Only I love Milfs: Transmigrated to a World Where Milfs are Hated

A/N:  Feeding me Power Stones = more chapters. Just saying. Enjoy!

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The memories of the previous owner surged once again—and with them, as always, came the stabbing pain. A searing echo in his skull.

Eren jolted, clutching his head with one hand.

"Are you alright?" came the concerned voice of the teenage boy seated nearby.

Eren raised a hand in reassurance. "I am. I am. It's... nothing." That seemed enough for the boy—Chib—who nodded and returned to his seat, tucking knife and fork towards the side before digging into the slab of meat with his hands.

While Eren's thoughts were:

'Overlord's Legion.' The phrase rang again in his mind like an ancient bell.

In this world, as far back as the former owner's memory stretched, there existed only one kingdom: Astraliza. And within it, the hierarchy of nobility was as sharp and rigid as carved stone.

At the very top stood the King. Beneath him: royal ministers and the elite marquises, who governed vast stretches of land.Those marquises held authority to appoint earls or counts, who then administered regions under their control.Beneath them, the barons—nobles, yes, but at the lower rungs of the ladder. They managed smaller fiefs, relying heavily on favors, influence, and strategic marriages to hold or gain standing.

For barons, alliances meant survival—and marriages were often their sharpest tool.

And so, when a baronial house gave birth to a daughter, the entire court would begin watching—waiting—to see if she might be... valuable.

Not for love. Not for grace.

But for the traits quietly praised behind wine-filled halls and closed chamber doors, it was always the same:

A slender build, no extra weight, no softness except where it counted.Tight skin, hugging every line of the body—nothing loose, nothing left to imagination.A small, tight bust—not drooping, not heavy—just enough to fill a palm and sit high on the chest.A flat stomach, narrow waist, and a small, tight ass that curved just right when walking or bending.Height didn't matter much—short or medium worked fine. But the body had to be lean, shaped, and firm.No extra flesh. No round softness. Just the kind of figure that looked young, disciplined, and molded.

That's what the nobles wanted.

They didn't want beauty. They wanted fu*kability—refined and controlled.That's what they hunted for in marriages.

A body that looked young, untouched, but ready to be taken.That was the truth under all the noble talk.

And if a baron's / low nobility's daughter looked like that, she wasn't treated like a daughter for long.

She became currency.

She was a bargaining chip.

Whether she knew it or not.

'Hmm... maybe they just wanted to show their dominance. Or maybe it's their thing—playing with women who are smaller, softer, more petite than them. Toys for their pride,' Eren mused through the fragments of memory.'Whatever the reason, works out for me. Most of the others were ignored.Though... shame I didn't see many curvy MILFs in the memories either.'

But while the marquises and counts played their power games on smaller fields, everyone in the kingdom knew who truly sat at the top.

There were two apex predators in Astraliza, each commanding influence that even the king couldn't casually ignore:

House Astra Lia.House Dovecheks.

Both were Duke families, but Dovecheks had always been the strongest—militarily, financially, even politically.Yet Astra Lia had one distinct advantage: loyalty.

Where the Dovecheks stayed distant from royal command, Astra Lia bent the knee and followed the king's every word.And so, decade after decade, the king favored Astra Lia, rewarding them not just with status—but with power.

By royal order, the title of Overlord—the highest authority under the king—was always chosen from one of the two duke houses.

And for generations now, it had always been Astra Lia.

The public noticed too. They laughed in taverns and whispered in courts:"Why are the Dovecheks even still called Dukes? Astra Lia already runs the kingdom."

And under the Overlord's rule—chosen mostly by Astra Lia—the military elite known as the Overlord's Legion was born and bred.

Handpicked. Ruthless. Loyal only to their Duke, house and the throne.

These legions were a display of power from the noble families.

Each year, a massive tournament was held where these families tested their strength—fielding their best legions in brutal competition.

Every five-year interval, the tournament reached its true scale. The legions of each noble house clashed, showcasing their might. If a Duke or the Overlord noticed someone promising, they would hire that house for legion support.

The chosen house was then promoted—elevated to a level closer to the Duke or the Overlord—and held that status as long as their legion served in the Overlord's forces.

Even after the legion was gone, the houses that once supplied them still enjoyed various benefits, depending on how well their forces had performed.

Unofficially—but acknowledged by all—these legions were considered equal to Earls and Counts in both social and political standing.

A rule set by no one.But accepted by everyone.

'Though none of it has anything to do with me,' Eren thought.

As he drifted through these thoughts and memories, he realized he'd already finished serving the plates.

'Oh. Well, that's over.'

"Well, little boy. The serving's ove—oh, you've already started eating. Well then. Enjoy! If you need anything—just give a call—I'll be right there."And as Eren said that, he turned and started leaving for the kitchen—to check on his beautiful and curvy step-aunt, who he hadn't seen for a few minutes.

"Hehe," Eren chuckled with a grin.

"Hey, Twawer...n Bouwy," the teenage boy called out, his mouth still full of food."Mwke shore thwo take thome methitation for the headcake."(T/N: Make sure to take some medication for the headache.)

Eren turned around—a warm smile covering his grin.

"Sure," he said, then turned back toward the kitchen hallway.

Meanwhile:

Mira was preparing the aromatic base in a deep frying pan when Eren arrived.

Noticing him, Mira spoke up, her back still facing him."Oh Eren, here you are! Do they need something else?"

She was still cooking, fully focused.

Eren, noticing her wild curves and with the vitality pill still kicking in like a caution, mumbled—though a little too loud—"They? Not... but I might."

A grin tugged at his lips.

Mira turned, puzzled. "Huh? What'd you say?"

Eren—though not startled—still covered his tracks."Oh, it's nothing, Aunt Mira. Did you finish up the preparations for the evening?"

"They said there'll be a huge flow of adventurers and Kingdom battalions marching this way from tomorrow. Something about the Southern Front…" Eren added.

Mira, turning back to her cooking, paused for a moment."The Southern Front… huh. I wonder…" she murmured, a trace of mystery in her voice.

"Huh? Do you know something?" Eren asked. "They said a large horde of wilderness beasts is pushing in against the Kingdom's defenses."

Mira didn't answer immediately—her silence carried weight. Thoughtfulness. Caution.

Then—

"Yes… I've heard certain rumors. I didn't know how true they were. But with how things are being said now… it sure feels like something's not right at the front."She spoke with calmness, but a thread of unease laced her voice as she continued preparing the food.

"Don't you think so too, Eren?"

"I think? Woman, I just came from another world yesterday—one motto: crush your back and make you moan, come hard inside you—how the hell am I supposed to know it all?"

But Eren didn't voice it.

Instead, he chose the gentle path—the knowing one.

"Yes, I also think so, Aunt Mira," he said, gathering every ounce of willpower to lay his hand on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, leaning closer to her ear, he added, "Though no matter what, Aunt Mira… I'll be there to protect you."

As he spoke, his gaze dropped—straight down at the warm, sweat-slicked swell of Mira's bust. He caught the view from above. His heart kicked in his chest. His hand twitched, aching to slide lower, just a little. And as he began to move it—

Mira turned suddenly. Her face flushed, lips curled in a smile—maybe too wide. She reached up, tugged his cheek with a teasing glint in her eye.

"I know that. And I'll do the same for you."A pause. Then, still tugging gently, she added, "That's why I love you."

A faint red rose to her cheeks, carefully hidden as she turned back to her task.

Eren stood there—mind blank, body lit.His face burned. And her side—too close, pressing just shy of his shaft through the fabric.

She was his Step-Aunt. Not blood. Not related.And right now, none of that mattered.

He couldn't take it anymore.

The vitality in his body—once aimless—had turned downward, drawn to the one thing that understood him like no other. Either in this life or any other.

His shaft strained beneath his clothes, no longer patient, no longer ignorable.

It rose.

Like a buried stone, hardened and aching—straining upward toward the sky, or maybe downward into the bottomless sea.

Eren's eyes lit.

And with his conscience and morals all gobbled up by his libido, he suddenly grabbed Aunt Mira's shoulders with both hands and pinned her to the side wall—not forcefully, but gently.

A flush of full-blown red crept into his face—as he looked straight at Aunt Mira.Or perhaps… just Mira.