God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem
Chapter 677 - 677: Who's My Cutie Patootie?~

Olivia's gaze lingered on Abigaille, her mind reeling at the sight of her best friend's unashamed lewdness, the way she'd swallowed the sausage, Kafka's special dish, made for her without a hint of hesitation, her throat taking it deep, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

It was as if Abigaille were a succubus, a creature of pure seduction, weaving her spell over Kafka with every sultry moan, every obedient act. Olivia, on the other hand, had gagged, her innocent throat rebelling against the sausage's girth, spitting it out in a humillating display.

The contrast stung, a sharp reminder of Abigaille's ease, her skill, and Olivia couldn't help but wonder: How does she do it? What did she mean by 'practice for the real thing?.'

The questions gnawed at her, but beneath them simmered a hotter, uglier feeling...jealousy.

That sausage was hers, crafted with Kafka's love, his effort to welcome her home, to make her feel cherished. Every bite was supposed to be hers, a taste of his devotion, but Abigaille had stolen it, swallowing it whole, claiming it with a greedy delight that left Olivia feeling robbed.

She hadn't meant to spit it out, her gag reflex had betrayed her, but Abigaille's swift opportunism, her perfect execution, made Olivia feel like a failure, a second-rate mother in her son's eyes.

Abigaille was the good one, the one who embraced Kafka's every whim without protest, while Olivia's hesitations, her rejections, painted her as the villain, the cold, distant mother who couldn't keep up.

The thought twisted her heart, a pang of sadness mingling with a fierce envy, she wanted Kafka's love, his attention, as much as Abigaille did. She didn't want to be the lesser mother, the one pushed aside for not playing their depraved game.

Kafka's gaze shifted from Abigaille, who was still kissing his chest, her lips trailing over his skin with a loving, submissive fervor, to Olivia. Her face betrayed her, her eyes glistening with a pitiful, wounded expression, her lips trembling as if she'd lost something precious.

"Hey, Mom..." He said, his voice a soft, concerned rumble, his hand brushing her cheek, tilting her face toward him. "What's wrong? Why you looking so sad? Dinner not to your liking or something?"

His eyes searched hers, a flicker of worry softening his usual dominance, and the tenderness in his tone cracked Olivia's defenses, her resolve wavering under his care.

She looked away, her voice low, almost a whisper, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No, Kafi, it's...it's not that." She mumbled, her eyes fixed on the table, avoiding his gaze as if hiding a shameful secret.

But Kafka didn't relent, his fingers gently lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, those pretty, vulnerable eyes that shimmered with unshed tears, a silent plea for understanding.

"Come on, Mom." He urged, his voice warm, insistent, his thumb stroking her jaw. "Be honest with me. I don't like seeing you like this, all sad and quiet. I wanna make you happy, you know that."

"...So, whatever's on your mind, tell me, let me fix it."

His sincerity was disarming, his care a balm to her wounded heart, and Olivia's lips trembled, her guard crumbling as she looked at him, her expression pitiful like a child confessing a fear.

"I...I know it's probably just in my head." She said, her voice soft, intimate, as if revealing a secret she'd guarded too long. "I'm overthinking it, I'm sure, but...I feel like you're prioritizing Abi over me, Kafi. And I can't even blame you sincs she's doing everything you want, kissing you, doing n-naughty things, accepting all of...this, while I'm...I'm rejecting it, saying it's wrong, making it seem like I don't want you."

"...And because of that I worry you're pushing me away, embracing her more, and I hate that thought..."

"...I'm your mother too, I raised you from birth, just like she did and I don't want to be second best, not to you."

Her words spilled out, tender and vulnerable, her eyes glistening, her heart laid bare.

"I-I know I haven't been home as much as Abi, always working, always gone, but I love you just as much, Kafi. I want to feel your love back, not...not be the villain because I'm not as...open as she is."

"...It makes me feel like I'm the bad guy, and I don't want that."

Olivia thought that after hearing this, her son would have a hard time answering since what she told was really confusing and contradictory to how she was acting and not something a son would want to hear from his one mother.

But to her surprise, he had a much more casual reaction.

Hearing this, Kafka's eyes widened, a soft chuckle escaping him, his hand cupping her cheek, his touch warm, grounding.

"Villain?" He said, his voice laced with amusement, his gaze softening with affection. "You're calling yourself a villain, Mom? For real?" His tone was teasing, but there was a warmth in it, a reassurance that made Olivia blink, her surprise cutting through her sadness.

"Yes." She said, her voice trembling, her eyes searching his. "Why's that so surprising? People always look at me like I'm...cold, distant, like I'm the bad guy."

"I've seen it my whole life, Kafi, my face, it's...it's not warm, not like Abi's. I know I look scary, unapproachable. I've been told I'd be the evil witch in any story, the icy queen who rules with a glare. "

"...Even as a kid, I accepted it, knew I'd never be the soft, sweet one. So yeah, I feel like the villain here, pushing you away, ruining your fun."

Her words carried a quiet resignation, a sigh of someone who'd long embraced her fate, her cold exterior a shield she'd worn too long.

But Kafka shook his head, his chuckle deepening, his hand sliding to her neck, his fingers stroking her skin in a loving, possessive caress.

"Wow Mom, that's some story you've told yourself." He said, his voice rich with affection, his eyes locked on hers. "I don't know about how you look out there, scaring strangers with that 'icy queen' face of yours...bet it's terrifying, after seeing how you looked when you tried to stab me."

He grinned, teasing, but his tone softened, his gaze warm, disarming.

"But right here, right now, with your family? There's not a damn bit of scariness in you. You're all soft, all heart, full of so much fucking emotion it's spilling out."

"You're nowhere near that cold witch bullshit you're talking about. You're...you're fucking adorable, Mom, like a little fox, all wide-eyed and cute, sitting here worrying about my love."

Olivia's cheeks flamed, a flush spreading down her neck at the word cute, the unexpected compliment catching her off guard, her heart fluttering with a shy, flustered joy.

"C-Cute?" She echoed, her voice incredulous, her eyes wide as she stared at him. "Kafi, don't...don't tease me like that. I'm not cute, I'm—" She faltered, her usual composure shattered, her lips trembling as she tried to reconcile his words with the image she'd carried for years.

Kafka shook his head, a playful grin spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling with affection as he leaned closer, his hand cupping her cheek.

"No, Mom, not at all." He said, his voice a warm, teasing rumble. "You're cute, no, you're the cutest. Absolutely, one hundred percent, the most adorable creature I've ever laid eyes on."

"...You might not hear it a lot, but trust me, every inch of you is screaming adorable right now."

His tone was exaggerated, almost theatrical, but the sincerity in his gaze made her heart skip, her cheeks flushing a deeper red as he went on, his words a relentless cascade of praise.

"Look at you those big, sparkly eyes, all wide and worried, like a little fox caught in the headlights...That pouty little mouth, trembling like you're about to cry...Even your nose, all perfect and twitchy, it's all so fucking cute, Mom, I can't stand it!"

Olivia's blush deepened, a wave of embarrassment crashing over her as she squirmed on his lap, her hands fluttering nervously, unsure where to rest.

"Kafi, stop." She mumbled, her voice soft, flustered, her eyes darting away, unable to meet his gaze. "Don't...don't say that. I'm not cute, I'm...I'm your mother, not some...some little girl." Her protest was weak, her heart racing with a shy delight she couldn't suppress, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket.

But Kafka didn't stop. His grin widened, his hands moving to both of her cheeks, gently pinching and pulling them down, stretching her flushed skin as he chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Oh, Mom, look at these cheeks." He teased, his voice dripping with playful affection, his fingers tugging lightly, making her face even redder. "So rosy, so soft, like a little baby's. Even now, I just wanna coddle you, scoop you up and treat you like a tiny kid who needs all my love."

"...You're too damn adorable, I can't help it!"

He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, and to her shock, he rubbed his nose against hers, a childish, affectionate gesture that sent a jolt of embarrassment through her, her body tensing as he treated her like a toddler.

"Who's my little cutie pie?" He cooed, his voice a sing-song taunt, his nose still brushing hers, his eyes sparkling with delight. "Who's my adorable little patootie, huh? Come on, tell me who's the sweetest, cutest little baby in the whole wide world?"

His teasing was relentless, each word a playful jab that made her squirm, her embarrassment surging as she realized Abigaille was watching, her lips curled in a knowing, amused smile, her eyes glinting with mischief from the sidelines.

"Kafi, stop it!" Olivia squeaked, her voice high, flustered, her hands swatting at his playfully, though she didn't pull away, her body leaning into his touch despite her protests. "I'm not a baby, I'm your mother! You can't...you can't treat me like this, it's embarrassing!"

Her words were a half-hearted scold, her cheeks burning, but the truth was undeniable, she was enjoying it, the warmth of his affection, the playful teasing, completely different to the cold, distant image she'd always carried. Her heart fluttered, a shy joy blooming beneath her embarrassment, his love a balm she craved.

Kafka's chuckle deepened, his hands still tugging her cheeks, his nose brushing hers as he shook his head, his voice a low, teasing purr.

"Mother, woman, whatever you wanna call yourself, Mom." He said, his eyes locked on hers, his gaze warm, unrelenting. "Right now, you're just my cute little girl, sitting here all blushy and pouty, begging to be coddled with all my heart. And I'm not stopping, not till you admit it, till you see how adorable you are."

He pulled back slightly, his hands releasing her cheeks, only to cup her face, his thumbs stroking her skin as he tilted her head, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"So, who's my cutie little baby? Who's this adorable little fox in front of me, huh? Say it, Mom, tell me who's the sweetest little patootie I love so much."

Olivia's cheeks burned, her embarrassment peaking as she glanced at Abigaille, who leaned against Kafka's chest, her smile widening, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Go on, Liv." Abigaille purred, her voice a sultry tease, her hand trailing lazily over Kafka's thigh. "Tell him you're his cutie patootie. You know you want to be his and his alone. Don't fight it, just give in, be his adorable little girl."

Her words were a playful nudge, laced with a dirty undertone, and Olivia's blush deepened, her heart racing as she realized she couldn't escape, not with Kafka's insistent gaze, Abi's knowing look, and her own desperate need to please him.

"Fine..." Olivia whispered, her voice trembling, her cheeks blazing as she met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with a shy, reluctant joy. "I'm...I'm your cutie patootie, Kafi. I-I'm your adorable little"

"...T-That should be fine, right?"

Her admission was a flustered rush, her body tensing as she braced for his reaction, her embarrassment a fire that burned through her, but the joy in her heart was undeniable, his love a gift she couldn't refuse...