Multiversal Friendship System-Chapter 146: What if (R18)

Non-Canon

Illya: 18

(Let me know if I cooked or naw)

...

Since he had been thinking about Illya, he was directly transported to her side.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a spacious bedroom decorated in an overwhelmingly cute style.

In front of him was a princess bed, on which sat a silver-haired girl who seemed to glow like moonlight.

Her familiar face confirmed that this was indeed Illya.

However, Illya's body wasn't as curvaceous as Souta had imagined. Compared to Irisviel's mature figure, the current Illya was still in a youthful, budding stage.

She looked... about 1X years old.

"Big Brother!"

The moment she saw the flash of white light in her room, Illya jumped off the bed.

Her slender legs were clad in pure white stockings, her skin as smooth and fair as a freshly peeled egg. Paired with her delicate, porcelain-like face, she looked like an angel descended to earth, evoking an overwhelming urge to protect her.

Souta felt a slight stir in his heart.

"Welcome to my home!"

Illya ran up to Souta and hugged him tightly, nuzzling against his chest as if savoring his scent.

Souta smiled and gently ruffled her silvery hair.

"Rin said you were her senpai, so I thought you'd grown up completely. Guess I was wrong."

"I did grow up! I became all curvy like Mommy!"

Illya looked up at Souta with a sweet smile.

"But Illya was afraid Big Brother wouldn't like that, so I made myself small again just now."

"..." Souta froze. "Made yourself small again? Don't tell me you actually wished for the ability to control your physical age?"

"Yep! Now Illya can be whatever size Big Brother likes."

Illya let go of Souta and twirled in place, her short skirt fluttering as if to show off her figure.

As she spun, she hopped back onto the bed, swinging her stocking-clad legs playfully—almost as if she were teasing him.

"Big Brother, Illya's body is ready for naughty things now. Do you want to... try it out right here?"

As Souta stood in the heart of the cozy room, Illya's playful antics only grew bolder. She giggled and grew slightly taller, her figure subtly filling out before his eyes. Her movements were fluid, like a dance of temptation, and she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath brushing against his skin. "Big Brother, don't you find me irresistible?" she whispered, her voice dripping with a coy confidence that was both new and utterly enchanting.

Souta's chest tightened, his mind a whirlwind of doubt and longing. Yet, the allure of her youthful innocence mixed with her surprising figure was a heady cocktail that tested the limits of his self-control. He swallowed hard, trying to formulate a response that didn't betray his growing interest. "I-Illya, I'm... I'm just surprised, that's all," he stuttered, his hand hovering near her cheek, the urge to touch her growing stronger.

Her eyes gleamed with a knowing smile as she took a step back, allowing the full extent of her newfound curves to be on display. She twirled around, the skirt of her dress fluttering around her hips, her legs now longer and more alluring in their white stockings. "You don't have to be surprised, Big Brother," she said, her tone playfully seductive. "I'm still the same Illya, just... a little more fun-sized for you to handle~"

The way she emphasized the word "fun-sized" sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't ignore the way she had shifted the atmosphere, the way she had turned the tables on him. Souta took a deep breath, his hand brushing against the soft fabric of the bedspread, the tension in the air palpable. He knew that if he didn't tread carefully, he could end up losing himself in her allure. Yet, something about her gaze—the way it searched his, filled with hope and anticipation—was too much to resist.

"I... I guess we could, uh, try something," he murmured, his voice thick with hesitation. Illya's eyes lit up like stars, and she clapped her hands together in excitement. "But only if it's what you really want, and if it's something that won't... change us too much."

Her smile grew, and she nodded eagerly. "It's exactly what I want, Big Brother. And it won't change us, I promise. It'll just bring us closer, that's all!" She reached up and took his hand, her touch sending electric jolts through his veins. As she led him to the bed, Souta felt his resolve crumbling like a sandcastle against the tide of her enthusiasm.

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They sat together, her legs drawn up to her chest, the snowfall outside casting a soft, romantic glow on her face. The room was silent, save for the occasional crackle of the fireplace and the sound of their hearts beating in sync. Souta felt the warmth of her palm in his, and the scent of lavender grew stronger, enveloping them in a comforting blanket of intimacy. He looked at her, really looked at her, and realized that she wasn't just a girl anymore—she was a woman with desires and feelings, and she had chosen to share them with him.

Leaning in, he gently brushed a stray strand of silver hair from her cheek, his thumb lingering to trace the line of her jaw. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering shut. It was then that he knew—this moment was more than just physical. It was a bond forged through shared experiences, through the depths of pain and the heights of joy, through the magic of a wish that had brought them here, to this quiet, snow-covered sanctum of passion and understanding.

And as he leaned in to kiss her, the softness of her lips against his was a revelation. It was sweet and innocent, yet filled with a promise of something much more profound. It was the kiss of a girl who had grown up too fast, yet still had the heart of an angel. It was the kiss of a woman who knew what she wanted, and was ready to claim it.

As their kiss deepened, Souta's hand found its way to her hip, his fingers tracing the smooth line of her stockings up to the edge of her skirt. The warmth of his touch sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach, a sensation she hadn't felt in the longest time. It was as if the soap operas she had watched played out right in her own life, but with a script she had written herself.

Illya's eyes sparkled with excitement as she felt his hand slide up her thigh, her own hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt. She was eager to explore, to feel the warmth of his skin against hers. Their kiss grew more fervent, their tongues dancing together in a silent symphony of desire. She could feel her cheeks growing hotter, her heart racing faster—every sensation a testament to their growing bond.

With a giggle, she pulled away, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "I guess Big Brother really does like my legs after all," she murmured, her voice a soft purr. She watched him, her chest heaving slightly, as she slid off the bed and onto her knees before him. The plush carpet was cool against her bare legs, the softness a stark contrast to the heat of the moment.

"Let me show you how much I've missed you," she whispered, her breath hot against his skin as she leaned in to kiss his neck. She felt his pulse quicken beneath her lips, and a thrill of power surged through her. It was a power she had always had, but now she knew how to wield it—how to make him want her just as much as she wanted him.

Her hands found his belt, her nimble fingers deftly unbuckling it with a flick of her wrist. She slid the zipper of his pants down, revealing the growing bulge beneath. A wicked smile played on her lips as she took him in her hand, her grip firm but gentle. "Looks like someone's happy to see me," she said, her voice filled with teasing delight.

Souta's eyes widened, a mix of shock and arousal playing across his features. He hadn't expected things to escalate so quickly, but the way she looked at him—so hungry, so sure of herself—was impossible to resist. He leaned back on the bed, his hands tangling in her hair as she began to kiss a trail down his chest.

And as she took him in her mouth, the room seemed to spin around them. The sound of the snowfall outside grew muffled, replaced by the rhythmic wet sounds of her ministrations. Souta's eyes rolled back in his head, his body arching off the bed. He had never felt anything so... intense, so overwhelming.

Yet, even as she took him in, her eyes never left his. They were filled with a love that was more than just physical—it was a love born of shared battles, of hearts intertwined by fate. And as she felt him grow closer to the edge, she knew that this was just the beginning of a new Chapter in their story—a Chapter filled with love, passion, and the promise of forever.

Souta's breath hitched as he stared down at Illya, her loli form somehow making her even more enticing. Her cheeks hollowed out with the effort of her sucking, her eyes watering slightly from the pressure, and she looked up at him with a mix of innocence and raw hunger that made his cock throb even harder in her mouth. The expression on her face was one of pure adoration, as if she had been born to serve him in this way—to bring him pleasure beyond his wildest dreams.

Her tongue danced under the head of his cock, tracing the delicate line of his shaft, and he couldn't help but let out a low groan. It was wrong, oh so wrong, to be doing this with a girl who looked so much younger than she truly was.

"I-Illya, you're... amazing," he gasped, his voice hoarse with desire. She looked up at him, a smug smile playing on her lips even as she continued to bob her head up and down. He knew she enjoyed his discomfort, enjoyed pushing his boundaries, and it only served to turn him on more.

Her eyes never left his, her gaze locked onto his as she worked him with a skill that belied her age. The way her cheeks flushed, the way her mouth stretched around him, the way her eyes watered from the effort—it was all so... mesmerizing. And as she took him deeper, her throat tightening around him, he couldn't help but feel a strange mix of pride and protectiveness.

He reached down, his hand resting gently on the back of her head as she moved, guiding her slightly. Her eyes widened with pleasure at his touch, her movements growing more urgent. It was clear she was enjoying this just as much as he was, if not more.

Souta felt his climax approaching, the tension building in his lower stomach like a coiled spring. He tightened his grip on her hair, pushing her head down to the root, feeling her nose press hard against his pubes. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

With a final, desperate thrust, he came, the warmth of his cum flooding her mouth. He watched her choke, her eyes watering more, but she never broke eye contact. Instead, she swallowed, her throat working hard to take every drop of his essence, her eyes never leaving his.

The moment was intense, almost primal in its rawness. The sound of her gulping filled the air, and she slowly pulled back, her lips forming a perfect 'O' before releasing him with a wet 'pop'. She licked her lips, a satisfied smile playing on her face, as she watched his still-hard cock pulse with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Souta felt amazing, his body buzzing with pleasure. Yet, his arousal didn't wane. If anything, it grew stronger, fueled by the sight of her kneeling before him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shining with joy. It was a heady mix of emotions—lust, love, and a strange sense of awe that she would do this for him.

He reached down, his hand cupping her chin gently as he pulled her up to meet his gaze. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with feeling. Illya's smile grew even wider, and she leaned in to kiss him softly, sharing the taste of him with him.

The room was filled with the scent of their passion, the air thick with the promise of what was to come. And as they broke apart, panting and trembling, Souta knew that this was just the beginning of a journey that would change them both in ways they could never have imagined.

Souta's gaze searched Illya's, seeking permission and understanding. "How... How do you want to take it, Illya?" His voice was a whisper, a blend of anticipation and concern. He didn't want to push her further than she was willing to go, despite the fiery desire burning in his veins.

Her eyes grew soft, and she reached up to cup his cheek. "Big brother, from the front, please," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "I want to look into your eyes when it happens."

Their connection was palpable, a silent promise that this act would be more than just physical—it would be a declaration of trust and love that transcended the boundaries of their unconventional relationship. Souta nodded, his heart swelling with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth.

He gently laid her back on the bed, her white stockings and red eyes the only stark reminders of the power she held. Her legs parted for him, and he slid in between them, his cock still rock-hard and ready for her. He took a moment to appreciate her, the way the soft light painted her skin with a warm glow, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the way her eyes searched his for reassurance.

Souta took one more lingering touch of her white stockings, the silky material gliding against his fingertips, sending a thrill of excitement through his body. He couldn't explain the sudden urge, but he found himself leaning down to sneak a whiff of her delicate, hidden feet. The faint scent of vanilla and something uniquely Illya filled his nose, making him even harder. He was surprised by his own reaction, but he didn't question it. Instead, he reveled in the intimate moment, the thrill of discovering new facets of his attraction to her.

With a knowing smile, Souta positioned himself at her entrance, his cock slick with her saliva and his own precum. He interlocked their hands, their fingers entwining in a silent pact of mutual desire. And with a gentle, yet firm push, he entered her, her walls tightening around him in a warm, wet embrace that made him gasp.

Her playful demeanor remained unchanged, even as her face scrunched up in pleasure-pain. "Harder, Big Brother," she urged, her voice muffled by a giggle. Her eyes never left his, and he could see the mischief dancing in their depths. This was a game to her, a dance of power and desire, and she was enjoying every second of it.

He complied, pushing deeper, their bodies moving in a rhythm that was as old as time itself. Her hips met his every thrust, her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, a testament to their growing intimacy.

And as he watched her, her youthful features contorting in pleasure, Souta knew that she was right. She was more than a homunculi—she was a woman, a being of passion and love, and she had chosen him. Her moans grew louder, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps, and he knew that she was close.

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent her over the edge, her body convulsing around him as she came. The sight was breathtaking, her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. And as she collapsed against him, her body spent and trembling.

"Mmm, Big Brother, you're so... so much!" Illya's voice was a breathy whisper, her body still trembling from the intensity of her climax. Her legs remained wrapped around his waist, her arms tight around his neck. "Don't stop," she begged, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze.

Her cheeks were flushed, and she was making the silliest face he had ever seen—half pleasure, half concentration, as she tried to keep up with his rhythm. She was beautiful in her vulnerability, and it made his chest ache with affection.

Without breaking eye contact, she silently cast a reinforcement magic spell, her eyes briefly flickering with power. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but he felt the difference immediately—her legs tightening around him like a vice, her hips meeting his with renewed vigor.

"Oh, oh, oh!" she moaned, her voice pitching higher with each thrust. "Yes, Big Brother, like that, ahh!" Her words grew incoherent as she lost herself in the sensation, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her body was a symphony of sensations, each movement a crescendo of pleasure.

And then she was coming again, her walls contracting around him in a vice-like grip that milked his cock for all it was worth. He could feel her pleasure radiating through him, a warmth that spread through his entire being. "Ahh, Illya," he groaned, his own release building, the tension in his balls growing unbearable.

As the crescendo of pleasure grew, Souta pumped his hips harder, feeling the pressure build in his groin. His left hand squeezed her breast, his thumb circling her nipple, while his right hand gripped her ass firmly, pushing her closer with every thrust. The sight of her taking him in, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glazed with passion, was almost too much to handle.

Illya's own hands roamed over his body, her nails digging into his skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever she touched. She was insatiable, her passion a living, breathing force that consumed them both. And as they moved together, the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them and the sound of their desperate gasps for air.

Their lips found each other. Their kiss grew deeper, their tongues tangling as they shared breath, their hearts beating in a frantic rhythm that matched the tempo of their lovemaking. Souta could feel himself getting closer, the pressure building, threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, with a roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room, he came. He emptied himself into her, filling her with his seed, their bodies joined in the most intimate of ways. It was a moment of pure, unbridled ecstasy, a culmination of their love and lust that left them both trembling in the aftermath.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the snowfall outside painted a serene picture of white on the window. But in this room, the air was thick with the scent of passion, their hearts beating as one. They had crossed a line, but it didn't feel wrong—it felt right, as natural as breathing.

And as they shared one last lingering kiss, their eyes locked in silent understanding, they knew that their lives would never be the same again. This was the start of something new, something beautiful and terrifying all at once. And as they drifted into a contented silence, the only sound in the room was the gentle whisper of the snowfall, a soft lullaby to their newfound love.

As the waves of pleasure ebbed away, Souta felt his body begin to relax. He gently withdrew from her, their combined juices coating his shaft in a warm, sticky mess that made his stomach flip with arousal.

Illya looked up at him with a soft smile, her eyes glowing with satisfaction. "Can we... just stay like this for a bit?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. Souta nodded, too lost in the moment to speak, and leaned down to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and finally her lips.

Her smile grew even wider, and she transformed before his eyes—her youthful features morphing into those of a voluptuous, adult woman. Her chest swelled, her hips widened, and her legs grew longer, all without losing an ounce of the grace and beauty that defined her. She was a goddess, a milf queen, and she was his.

He took a moment to admire her, his eyes roving over her new form with a mix of awe and desire. She offered him a lap pillow, and he gratefully took it, nestling his head between her ample breasts. She leaned forward, offering them to him like a delicious treat, and he couldn't resist.

His thumbs toyed with her now-sensitive nipples, flicking them lightly as she gasped and squirmed beneath him. Her skin was soft and warm, the smell of vanilla and sex surrounding them like a cloud. He felt himself growing hard again.

"M-more," she begged, her voice thick with lust. Souta didn't need any further encouragement. He took one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling gently at first before increasing the pressure. She groaned, her back arching, her nails digging into his scalp.

The taste of her was intoxicating, and he found himself-

THE END