God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem

The lingerie boutique sat nestled between two larger shops, barely noticeable from the main street.

Its exterior was modest, an elegantly curtained window with a single delicate sign reading "Lace And Silk" in hand-lettered gold script. A small bell chimed softly as the door opened, the kind of store that didn't draw in the foot traffic of tourists or casual shoppers.

You had to know it was there...And Kafka, clearly, did.

Olivia clung to his side tightly now, hand locked around his hand, her body half-pressed to his as they stepped toward the entrance.

Outside, in the open world of bustling pedestrians and market stalls, her grip might've looked romantic. Maybe a little shy.

But in here, where the store was quiet, soft-lit, intimate, it would stand out.

Inside, everyone would see.

Especially in a shop as fancy as this that smelled of fresh silk and faint perfume, the kind that seeped into the air from folded fabrics and lingering incense.

Lingerie lined the walls in soft pastels and deep blacks, sensual reds and floral blues, displayed on mannequins and ornate racks.

The space was quiet, intimate, and feminine, so much so that Olivia instinctively felt like an intruder just stepping in.

Normally, she would've dropped his hand by now, maybe even pretended she didn't know him.

But not this time.

Not after what he'd said.

Not after hearing him call her his girlfriend.

Something in her had shifted. She couldn't stop replaying those words.

If I had a girlfriend like you, I'd be the happiest man on earth.

She'd thought she was imagining things, reading too much into it, but his smile, the look in his eyes...it wasn't just teasing.

It made her feel chosen. Like she mattered to him in ways that weren't just about fun or flesh.

And so she held tighter, not looser. Her arm curled tighter around his hand, her side pressed more deliberately into his. She didn't care if anyone saw.

In fact, some strange, new boldness made her want them to see. She wanted it known that he was hers. Her man. The one who had made her feel like she could be sexy and filthy and shameless and still loved.

So when they stepped inside, and the doorbell chimed, and Olivia immediately felt the eyes of the room fall on her, on them, she didn't shrink away.

She leaned closer.

But before she could scan the room, a voice cut through the warm quiet like silk drawn over skin:

"Oh my, what a pleasant surprise. I didn't think you'd come back to this store so soon, Kafka."

Olivia's eyes snapped toward the source.

A tall woman stepped forward from behind the counter, her presence both elegant and cheerful. She had the striking beauty of someone who aged gracefully, though her features were anything but ordinary.

Her skin was a soft shade of blue, her long ears curved gracefully past her dark blue hair, and her bright blue eyes shimmered with warmth and mischief.

She was clearly one of the demi-human races, just like Nina, though of a different lineage.

What stood out even more than her unusual skin tone, however, was the walking stick in her hand.

She moved with a slight limp, each step deliberate and measured, the soft tap of her cane echoing across the wooden floor.

Yet even with that limp, there was a dignity in the way she carried herself, an ease in her smile, and a gentle twinkle in her gaze that made her seem no less radiant.

Her smile, sharp and teasing, was directed squarely at Kafka.

And Kafka...smiled back.

"It's been a while." He said, voice warm but casual. "How's business?"

"Oh, it's been wonderful." She said, stopping just in front of him now, barely sparing a glance at Olivia as her eyes remained locked on his. "In fact, I was just telling my staff the other day, I think you might be my lucky charm."

She laughed, light and airy, but with an unmistakable undertone.

"Ever since you visited last time, I've had more customers than ever. It's like your presence just...blessed the store."

She stepped just slightly closer. Olivia's hold on Kafka tightened.

"And you know, I'm honestly tempted..." The woman added, her tone playful. "...to hire you, Kafka. Not as a salesman, mind you, just to exist here. Maybe sit by the window. Attract even more women."

Kafka gave a short, amused huff. "That so?"

"Mm-hmm." She said, gaze drifting lazily down his figure and back up. "Or maybe I should just skip the formalities and hire you to stay at my house."

She smiled wider now, her lashes fluttering subtly.

"With you around, I think my life would go very smoothly. You always did have a way of making women feel...satisfied."

That word, satisfied, was said with unmistakable weight. Almost a purr.

Olivia stared.

Her brows pinched faintly. Her lips parted slightly in confusion. It was very clear that this woman knew Kafka. Well. Fondly. And the way she smiled at him, tilted her head, touched her own neck when she spoke, it all screamed flirtation and familiarity.

Olivia didn't know what to make of it.

Was she...an ex? A flirt? Just a friend with heavy implications?

Olivia's eyes drifted upward toward Kafka's face, searching for clues, but he was cool as ever. Slight smile. Hands in his pockets. Relaxed.

And the woman noticed. She noticed Olivia's confusion, her rising tension, the way her fingers dug just slightly into Kafka's side in the protective way a girlfriend would. And just like that, the woman's gaze shifted, landing fully on Olivia for the first time.

And when she saw her?

Her smile faltered. Just a second.

Because even she had to admit, Olivia was stunning.

One of the most beautiful women she'd seen in years. Not just physically, though that was undeniable, her soft lips, flushed cheeks, luminous eyes, the dress that clung to her thighs and curved at her hips, but the way she was pressed to Kafka.

Not shy. Not casual.. But claiming.

Olivia clung to Kafka like he belonged to her.

Possessive. Protective. Proud.

The woman's eyes glittered with amusement.

"Well..." She said, brushing a lock of hair over her shoulder with a graceful flick. "I seem to have said too much."

Her tone remained pleasant, though it carried a subtle undercurrent of self-awareness.

She turned slightly toward Kafka again, tilting her head. "And who, might I ask, is this beautiful, but very, very protective, lady?"

Her eyes drifted down to Olivia's grip on Kafka, then back up to Olivia's face with an amused sparkle.

"You're absolutely breathtaking." She said kindly, and genuinely. "Truly. I don't think I've ever seen anyone quite like you. And the way you're holding onto him…" She smiled again, teasing now. "...makes me think I've touched a nerve."

Olivia blinked.

"I, uh—"

Kafka laughed, finally lifting his hand and placing it gently over Olivia's where she gripped his waist, his thumb stroking her knuckles reassuringly.

"This is Olivia." He said, glancing down at her with a knowing smile. "She's…my...well."

"...I'll just say that she's mine I guess."

Olivia's breath caught the moment the words left Kafka's mouth.

"She's mine."

He didn't say girlfriend. He didn't say lover. Didn't give her a tidy label to slot her neatly into the conversation. No pretense, no convenience.

He didn't offer the kind of explanation that would've made sense to a third party, especially not in a setting like this.

He just looked down at her and claimed her.

Mine.

The word echoed in her chest like a deep chime, resounding louder and louder the more she processed it.

It should've embarrassed her. Should've made her flush and pull away, deny it awkwardly, explain herself.

But no. What she felt instead, down to her very bones, was a swelling pride. He'd said it so boldly. So easily. So surely. And not just in front of a stranger, but a beautiful stranger, clearly familiar with Kafka.

He said she was his.

Olivia's lips curled into a grin she couldn't hide even if she tried. Her heart thumped hard as she turned her smile deliberately toward the woman standing before them, as if to say: See? He picked me.

The expression must've been more confident than she realized, because the woman's brows rose. Her eyes flicked between Kafka and Olivia, confusion blooming across her pretty face as if she'd just witnessed something completely unexpected.

And then, she said it.

"…Then what about Abigaille?"

Olivia blinked.

The woman continued, clearly shocked.

"Did you two break up or something? Did something happen between you? I mean, the way you two were so close, honestly, I never imagined anyone else could enter your life like this."

Her voice was gentle, even affectionate. But also...confused. Almost like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Olivia's smile faltered. Her mind scrambled.

She knows Abigaille?

What the hell is going on here?

Before she could even begin to form a question, Kafka shook his head, chuckling softly under his breath. "No, no. Not at all."

He looked off for a moment, as if collecting a thought, then smiled, soft, fond, and unmistakably wicked, as he added. "Abigail's still with me."

He glanced at Olivia now, deliberately. That look again, lazy, amused, and knowing.

"She's at home."

Olivia's brows rose higher, the gears in her mind turning wildly now. What was he saying?

Kafka didn't stop.

"What I'm trying to say is if Olivia belongs to me…" He said slowly, drawing out each word like a ribbon being pulled from a gift. "...then Abigail belongs to me too."

His voice dropped slightly.

"They both completely belong to me."

Olivia stared.

And so did the lady.

But where Olivia's stare was blank with shock, hers slowly transformed, her brows lifting, mouth parting slightly, before a slow, dawning smile spread across her lips.

Then she laughed. Not mockingly. Not scandalized.

A soft, relieved laugh.

"Oh, thank God." She exhaled, placing a hand delicately to her chest. "I thought for a moment you broke things off with sweet Abigail. I couldn't imagine it, how heartbroken she would've been if something had happened between you two."

She shook her head with a small, genuine smile.

"I'm so glad. Really. That nothing like that happened."

Then she turned her eyes back to Olivia, and this time, there was something new in her expression.

A playful, measuring glint. She looked at the way Olivia still clung to Kafka's side, at how her body leaned possessively against his, how her fingers had never once loosened their grip.

She smiled slyly.

"And of course...it only makes sense." She said, her tone lilting with a teasing elegance. "That someone like you would have such a beautiful woman at your side."

Her gaze lingered on Olivia. "You wear possessiveness quite well, dear."

Olivia's cheeks flared, though this time it wasn't from panic or guilt, just confusion at what was going on.

And the woman herself didn't seem even slightly fazed at the fact he boldy proclaimed two women as his own.

In fact, she looked like it made perfect sense, that Kafka would end up with two women. One sweet and loving. One cold and regal. The dynamic wasn't questioned. It was expected.

The lady's expression softened. "Ah, but I'm being rude."

She turned slightly, brushing her hair behind one ear.

"I haven't even introduced myself properly." She gave a small, graceful bow. "My name is June. I own this little boutique. And I'm an acquaintance, perhaps even a friend of Kafka's."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement. "And I don't see any reason for us to be strangers. Not if you're with him. If that's the case, then you're close to me too."

Olivia blinked.

The words caught her off guard. Her mind was still trying to process everything, but her body moved on autopilot.

Straightening her posture, she stepped forward half a beat, slipping into the cool, practiced politeness she defaulted to in new social situations.

"Ah, hello, my name is Olivia."

She said, voice firm despite her fluster. Then she paused. She glanced sideways at Kafka. Her expression softened. Something warm, something private passed through her face, like she was searching for the right words to say what she meant.

Her mouth opened.

"I'm his…"

She paused again.

She could've said "friend".

Could've said "girlfriend" like he had suggested.

She could've said nothing.

But then her gaze flicked back to Miss June. And with a small breath and a bold rush of heat to her cheeks, she smiled shyly.

"Just like he said I…"

"...I belong to him..."

"...T-That's my relationship to him."

June blinked. For a moment, even she was surprised.

She hadn't expected that from someone like Olivia, someone who looked regal and controlled.

That poise, that cold beauty, she'd assumed she'd be the type to look down her nose at words like that.

But instead, she said it so plainly. So honestly. A slight blush colored her cheeks, but her voice didn't waver.

She wasn't ashamed.

She meant it.

And that made June smile even more.

She let out a small breath of laughter, shaking her head slightly.

"Of course, Kafka." She said warmly, eyes glinting as they flicked to Kafka. "Of course you'd be the one to tame a lady like this."

She looked back at Olivia with open admiration now.

"And of course she'd say something so beautifully embarrassing with that straight face."

Then, with a quiet chuckle, she added: "You really know how to pick them, Kafka."

Kafka just smiled, amused but pleased, while Olivia was still utterly confused about what was going on but still did her best to make her presence known since it was quite obvious that this Miss June had some sort of fondness towards her son which for some reason really bothered her...