God of Milfs: The Gods Request Me To Make a Milf Harem-Chapter 606: You Know What Happens In This Household

Kafka sat wedged between Bella and his mother on the couch, a fork in each hand as he fed them bites of pasta, their eyes still locked on the television where the drama unfolded in a whirlwind of tears and shouting.

He squinted at the screen, his brow furrowing in confusion as the heroine wailed about yet another betrayal, the plot twisting in ways that felt all too familiar.

"Okay, I don't get it." He said, his voice cutting through the orchestral swell as he twirled another forkful for Bella. "What's so appealing about this? All these twists and turns—they're so predictable! It's the same old story over and over—cheating lover, evil mother-in-law, dramatic slap—boring as hell."

"...Why do you two like this stuff so much?"

Bella didn't even glance at him, her eyes wide with focus as she opened her mouth for the bite, chewing quickly before responding, her tone dripping with playful condescension.

"Oh, Daddy, you wouldn't understand the greatness of this even if I sat you down and explained it for hours. It's not about the plot—it's the feelings! The passion!"

"...So, just stop asking questions and feed me like the good daddy you are, okay?" She flashed him a cheeky grin, then snapped her attention back to the screen as the music hit a emotional peak.

His mother nodded sagely, leaning into Kafka's side as she swallowed her latest bite, her voice carrying a hint of maternal authority.

"She's right, Kafi—these are things you just won't get. It's a girl thing, pure and simple. We need our little moments like this—our drama nights—so let us have it, alright?"

"...Oh, and my mouth's empty again—spoon, please!" She tilted her head toward him, lips parted expectantly, her tone teasing but firm.

Kafka stared at her in disbelief, his jaw dropping slightly as he scooped up another forkful and fed it to her, the pasta disappearing into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

"Just what am I doing..." He muttered, shaking his head as he turned to Bella, who piped up with a sudden whine, her voice pitching into a playful pout. "Daddy, I've got something on my lips—wipe it off for me!"

He glanced at her, spotting a tiny smear of sauce on her lower lip, and raised an eyebrow.

"You've got hands, Bella—wipe it yourself." He said, his tone dry as he twirled the fork in the plate on his lap.

She pouted harder, her eyes glinting with mischief as she leaned closer, her voice a sugary taunt.

"But I don't wanna miss anything—it's too good right now! Come on, Daddy, please? You're right here!"

She batted her lashes, clearly teasing him, and he sighed a long, dramatic sound—as he relented, grabbing a napkin from the table and wiping her lips with a gentle swipe, her satisfied giggle ringing in his ears.

"Happy now?" He grumbled, but as he settled back, he noticed something—both Bella and Abigaille had latched onto his hands, their fingers wrapped tightly around his arms, their bodies snuggled so close he could feel their warmth seeping into him.

The plate wobbled on his lap, the forks awkward in his grip as he tried to maneuver.

"Okay, hold on this isn't gonna work." He said, his voice tinged with exasperation as he tugged lightly at his trapped hands. "How am I supposed to feed you two when you're holding onto me like this? I'm not a contortionist!"

But they didn't budge. Bella squeezed his hand tighter, her voice a stubborn chirp as she nestled against his shoulder.

"Make do with it, Daddy—it's your job to feed us no matter what! And there's no way I'm letting go—you're the perfect snuggling pillow for drama night!"

Abigaille echoed her, her grip firm as she pressed closer, her tone warm but unyielding.

"She's right, Kafi—you're stuck with us. You're too cozy to let go since you make us feel so safe, like nothing in the world can touch us...So figure it out, because we're not moving!"

They snuggled in even tighter, their heads resting against his chest, their bodies molding to his like he was their personal fortress, the safest place they could imagine.

Kafka stared down at them, his disbelief melting into a reluctant grin as he felt their warmth, their trust, their silly, stubborn love wrapping around him.

"You're both ridiculous."

He muttered, but there was no bite to it as he struggled to feed them, twisting his wrists awkwardly to scoop up bites while they clung to him like koalas.

The pasta dwindled slowly, their hums of approval punctuating the drama's dialogue as he worked around their grip, the night stretching on in a cozy, chaotic tangle.

Finally, the episode ended—the credits rolling, the music fading into silence and Bella and Abigaille let out twin sighs of satisfaction, their hands loosening slightly as they leaned back, still pressed against him.

"Oh, that was such a good one." Bella said, her voice dreamy as she stretched her arms, her curls bouncing. "I'm glad it wasn't too sad this time, since we had no tissues around to wipe our tears!"

Abigaille nodded, her smile soft as she patted Kafka's knee. "Yes, thank goodness—no crying tonight. It was just the right amount of drama—perfect, really."

Kafka snorted, glancing at the coffee table where his own plate of pasta sat, cold and untouched, the sauce congealed into a sad little puddle.

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"Yeah, well, you two should probably wipe my tears." He said, his voice laced with woe as he pointed at the lonely dish. "You happily ate your fill while I'm sitting here starving since haven't even had a bite of my own masterpiece! All that hard work, and I'm left with a cold plate—tragic, really."

Their eyes widened, guilt flashing across their faces as they turned to him, their earlier smugness evaporating.

"O-Oh, Daddy, we're so sorry!" Bella cried, her voice a rush of remorse as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. "We didn't mean to ignore you—the drama was just so good!"

"...And just know that you're the best daddy in the world—nobody cooks like you, nobody takes care of us like you!" Bella said trying to appease him.

Abigaille joined in, her hands cupping his face as she planted a kiss on his cheek, her tone adoring and contrite.

"She's right, Kafi—you're such a good son, feeding us like that even when we were lost in our little world. There's no one like you—absolutely no one! We're awful for letting your pasta go cold—forgive us, please?"

He rolled his eyes, his lips twitching as he tried to play it cool, brushing off their praise with a gruff.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever—save it."

But inside, warmth bloomed in his chest, their coddling melting away the last of his mock frustration. He couldn't stay mad at them—not when they looked at him like that, their affection wrapping around him like a blanket.

Still, they pressed on, sensing his resistance, their voices growing more insistent.

"Come on, Kafi—what do we have to do to make it up to you?" Abigaille asked, her tone earnest as she squeezed his hand, her eyes searching his. "We'll do anything—you name it!"

Bella nodded, her hair bouncing as she leaned in, her voice a soft plea. "Yeah, Daddy—tell us! We feel so bad, how can we make you happy again?"

Hearing this, Kafka paused, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face as he looked between them, his eyes glinting with a lewd, teasing spark.

"Oh, you know exactly what you two can do to make me happy." He said, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive drawl as he waggled his eyebrows, the sudden shift catching them off guard.

Bella's eyes widened, a flush creeping up her neck as Kafka's suggestive words hung in the air, while his mother's cheeks burned red, her hand darting to her throat as if to steady her racing pulse.

"Kafi!" Abigaille sputtered, her voice a flustered mess of shock and admonishment as she swatted his shoulder, her fingers trembling slightly. "You're such a pervert—how can you say such a thing when Bella is around?!"

"Oh God, Daddy!" Bella squeaked, her tone pitching high as she clutched the throw pillow to her chest, mimicking what Abigaille said. "That's s-so gross! Where do you get off saying stuff like that with Auntie Abigaille around?!"

But Kafka didn't fall for the bait, his grin stretched wider, a wicked glint dancing in his dark eyes as he pulled them both closer, his arms wrapping around their waists in a firm, teasing hug.

"Oh, don't act like you're not already familiar with how things go in this house."

He said as his hands slipped beneath their tops, his fingers grazing their warm skin with a slow, deliberate touch that sent shivers racing down their spines.

Bella gasped, her body tensing as his hand slid up to cup her breast, pressing the soft, apple-sized flesh through her bra, his thumb brushing her nipple until it peaked against the fabric.

His mother moaned softly as well, a shudder rippling through her as he kneaded her fuller curve, his fingers sinking into her plush softness, tugging her nipple with a gentle pinch that made her squirm.

"Kafi—what are you, oh!♡~ Ohhh!♡~"

His mother's protest dissolved into a breathy whimper, her hands gripping his arm as his touch ignited a flush across her chest, her resolve crumbling under the familiar heat of his hands.

Bella echoed as well, a soft whine escaping her lips as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, the sensation sparking through her like a live wire.

"Daddy—no!♡~ Stop, you're so bad!♡~ Haughh!♡~"

He chuckled, his hands moving with shameless confidence as he pressed their breasts harder, savoring the way their flesh yielded under his palms, the fabric of their tops bunching up to reveal slivers of skin.

"You two know exactly what I want and what happens in this house when I'm left alone at night with two beautiful women like you." He murmured, his voice thick with playful lust as he leaned in, his breath hot against their flushed faces. "I get all worked up and I can't help myself, and now you're both trapped here with me, all night long."

"...And right now I'm feeling awfully excited, and I need somewhere to vent it—guess where that is?"

"Hmmm!♡~ Nnn!♡~ Ahhh!♡~ Nooo!♡~"

Their moans grew louder, Bella's a high, needy trill, Abigaille's a deeper, trembling groan as he squeezed harder, his fingers digging into their soft mounds with a teasing firmness that made their bodies arch against him.

"That wasn't our plan!" Bella gasped, her voice quivering as she tried to muster a glare, her blush betraying her as she squirmed in his grasp. "We just wanted to watch the drama—honest! You're making this...Ahhnn!♡~...i-into something it's not!"

Abigaille nodded, her hands clutching his shirt as she writhed, her tone shaky but defiant.

"She's right, Kafi—we didn't mean—oh, heavens!♡~—for this to happen! It was supposed to be a quiet night—just pasta and TV, not—not this!...Hmmm!♡~...Y-You're twisting everything!"

Her words faltered as he pinched her nipple again, a sharp moan breaking free as her head tipped back, her resistance melting into the steamy air.

"I don't care." Kafka growled, his voice rough with desire as he squeezed them harder, drawing louder moans—Bella's a desperate whimper, Abigaille's a throaty cry—that filled the living room.

"Plans don't change facts—you're here, I'm here, and I'm too excited to let it slide. You're mine tonight, and I'm gonna vent every bit of this heat...starting right now."