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

Olivia fully expected to pull back the curtain and see Kafka sulking in the corner, head hung like some tragic hero in a play, stewing in the misery she'd been so carefully feeding all this time.

Just the thought made the corner of her mouth twitch upward, her private little victory smile, because she'd been savoring every moment of his pitiful pursuit.

But the moment she pushed the curtain aside and stepped out, the entire script in her head shattered.

Kafka wasn't in the corner.

He wasn't standing there with those pleading eyes, waiting to pour yet another syrupy compliment over her cold silence.

No, he was nowhere near miserable.

He was in the middle of the floor, surrounded.

By women.

A whole semicircle of the store's female employees, all gathered around him like schoolgirls around the most popular boy in class.

And right there, smack in the center, was Kafka, shoulders relaxed, grin wide, eyes bright, the exact opposite of the pitiful wreck she'd left behind a minute ago.

Her first reaction wasn't even anger. It was pure disbelief.

How the hell had he gone from sulking to this in under sixty seconds?

And then she caught enough of the conversation to realize just what he was doing.

At that moment, he was facing a petite young woman with dark hair tied back in a neat bun. She was looking up at him shyly, the faintest pink on her cheeks already there before he even started.

"I thought at first..." Kafka said, voice thoughtful, like he was about to deliver some deep, important revelation. "...that blue would be the best for you."

He reached over to a nearby display, plucked a delicate sky-blue bra from the rack, and held it up between them.

"With your build and the way you carry yourself...yes, I thought blue would make you look incredible."

The girl's blush deepened. She smiled nervously, like she had no idea how to respond.

"But…" Kafka's tone shifted, dropping softer. His gaze narrowed slightly, like he was studying her as if she were some rare piece of art. "Now I'm not so sure."

He raised his hand slowly toward her face, stopping just before his fingers could touch her cheek.

"May I?" He asked, and even the way he asked it was careful, deliberate.

The poor girl nodded, her blush flaring hotter.

He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing along her skin in the lightest of strokes. Olivia saw the exact moment the warmth bloomed there, the faint pink on the girl's face deepening into a rich rose.

"Ah.. " Kafka murmured, a satisfied smile spreading over his lips. "This is what I'm talking about. When you blush like this, your whole face changes. The colors just...bloom. It's not just your skin, it's the way the light plays across it."

He pulled back slightly, letting his eyes meet hers before plucking another bra from the rack, this one a soft, delicate pink.

"This..." He said, holding it out. "...would do wonders for you. Not just the bra itself, but the way it would bring out this exact color in your cheeks. You'd glow. You'd look like a dream. Not just pretty, but radiant."

The girl swallowed hard, her fingers curling slightly as if resisting the urge to take it from him immediately, while Olivia could practically hear the sound of the girl's heartbeat from across the room.

Before the poor thing could even recover, another employee edged forward, clearing her throat shyly.

"What...what about me?"

Kafka turned to her, and Olivia noted immediately that this one had warm, sun-kissed skin. His gaze swept over her openly, his expression appraising without a hint of hesitation.

"For you?" He said, smiling. "That's easy."

The woman's breath caught.

"You've got this gorgeous tan, rich and warm, but what really stands out is how smooth it is." His head tilted slightly. "Honestly, I have to ask, do you use anything? Some kind of special skincare?"

The woman laughed nervously, waving a hand. "No, nothing like that."

"No?" Kafka's brows rose, his voice dripping with impressed disbelief. "Then that's even more incredible. Do you have any idea how rare it is to have skin this beautiful without treatments? It's...remarkable."

The woman flushed deeper, glancing down as though she didn't quite know what to do with the compliment.

"And that's why.. " He continued smoothly, moving to another rack. "You shouldn't go for something muted. No, something bright. Bold." He plucked a vibrant yellow bra from the display and held it up with a flourish.

"This. ." He said. "...against your skin? Absolutely tunning. It would catch the light, make you look like sunlight itself. And if you paired it with gold jewelry…" He let the thought hang for a moment before finishing with a low, approving tone. "...you'd look like a queen."

The woman's lips parted slightly, and Olivia saw the exact instant her mind was already deciding to buy both lingerie and gold accessories.

From behind them, another employee giggled and inched closer, clearly waiting for her own "color consultation."

And Olivia…

Olivia was standing frozen in place, the curtain of the fitting room still half-draped over her arm, as she watched her "pitiful, desperate" son, her needy little puppy, turn into a damn peacock, basking in the center of female attention like it was his natural habitat.

And worst of all?

Every single one of them was eating it up.

Olivia's jaw was tight enough to crack a tooth. She'd already been simmering from the moment she saw Kafka grinning in the middle of that flock of shop girls, tossing out charm like candy and then she noticed June leaning on her crutch and wearing a wry smile.

Olivia knew that she would know what was going on, so she quickly walked over to her

"Hah...and just earlier I was calling him a playboy and a charmer. And now he's out here proving my point so obviously it's like he's putting on a live demonstration."

June muttered under her breath, lips quirking into a wry smile. But then her smirk faltered as she noticed that Olivia was coming over to her.

And what completely caught her off gaurd was that Olivia was still in her underwear.

And those hips, those absolutely obscene hips, were swaying with each determined step, the soft ripple of her ass making even June, who had been around plenty of beautiful women in her life, blink and feel the faintest heat creep into her cheeks.

The damn things jiggled with intent, like they knew they were walking into battle.

June's eyes widened at the sight, and for just a second, she visibly gulped.

Oh no...She knew that look in Olivia's eyes. Cold. Sharp. A blade sheathed just enough to look calm.

And June also knew exactly who it was aimed at. Problem was, she had a crutch. There was no quick escape, no slipping out of the blast zone.

So she accepted her fate.

Olivia came to a stop in front of her and spoke in that measured, dangerously calm voice people use when they're holding back a scream.

"What exactly is going on here?" She asked, her gaze locked like a predator on June's. "One moment I go inside, and the moment I come out, the entire showroom looks like some kind of...consultation room. What exactly is my son—...Kafka doing?"

June's first instinct was to wave this off and hobble away, let this whole "couple's drama" play out without her anywhere near it.

But Olivia wasn't looking away. Those eyes were drilling straight into her. There was no sidestepping this.

Forcing a small smile, June lowered her voice, speaking quickly.

"Well...while you were inside, he...started a conversation with one of the employees. Out of nowhere, he says he knows he has no reason to say this to her, but that a certain color would look amazing on her."

"That's literally all it took, she started listening to everything he said...And honestly? Everything he told her made sense. About colors, styles, what would suit her best."

"The rest of the girls overheard, and they got curious. They wanted to hear their own 'color profile' from him. And that's why they're all...gathered like this."

She hoped that would be enough. Neutral, harmless.

But sadly it wasn't as Olivia's eyes narrowed as she said,

"That isn't the only reason those girls are surrounding him."

June felt her stomach drop...Damn it. Nothing goes past this woman.

She sighed and looked toward the group.

"Fine. Yes. They're not just here for the advice. They're here to fish for compliments."

"They like the way he talks to them, the way he says they're pretty, how he notices things about them. It's not just about bras, it's about...him. They're waiting for their turn to be told something sweet."

Olivia's gaze sharpened further, a slow blink that somehow looked more dangerous than glaring. June wanted to disappear.

But fate clearly hated her, because right then, Kafka looked over, spotted them talking, and his face lit up.

"Ladies, excuse me for a second." He told his little fan club, and then he strode over...straight to June.

He didn't even glance at Olivia.

That tiny omission was like a needle to the ribs for her, but Kafka just leaned toward June with a grin.

"I've been giving all the girls their color profiles." He said casually. "And it hit me, I haven't done yours yet, June. Can't have the store owner left out, or you'll get mad and kick me out, right?"

June's entire face said absolutely not before the words even came out.

"No, no, no." She said, lifting her free hand like she was warding him off. "There's no need to talk about me. Honestly, there's barely any point."

"...I-I mean, look at me. I have a crutch, I limp around, and nobody's looking at a woman like me thinking about lingerie. It's useless."

It was self-pitying, but also meant to shut him down.

But instead, Kafka's smile faded, replaced by a cold, sharp look that made June's shoulders tense instantly. His gaze went dark, and there was a weight in it that wasn't there a moment ago.

"June..." He said, low and firm. "What did I tell you last time we spoke?"

Her elegant posture seemed to shrink an inch. She nodded quickly, all that easy charm she'd been using earlier replaced by something closer to obedience.

"…Not to speak down about myself anymore."

"Then why are you doing it now?"

Her grip tightened on the crutch. She gave a small, awkward chuckle.

"I-It just...slipped out. I've been speaking like that about myself for so long it's just...a habit, I guess."

Kafka's gaze didn't waver.

June, who just moments ago had been the composed, confident boutique owner, now looked like a schoolgirl caught misbehaving.

"S-Sorry." She added quickly, the words coming out before she even realized she was saying them.

And Olivia…

Olivia was standing right there. Watching all of this having no idea why the women who was acting like she was her son's older sister all along, suddenly turn so meek like she was scared of making him mad...

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Illustration for June in the comment section...Check it out!