HOW TO NTR A NETORI PROTAGONIST

I carried Isabella to her room, her body trembling against mine. She was light, far lighter than I expected, but the weight of what had been done to her was heavy, pressing down on us both. Her silver hair spilled over my arm, a curtain that hid the shame she carried, even though it wasn't hers to bear.

When I laid her down on the bed, she winced, her torn gown catching against the red welts crisscrossing her back. I sat beside her, setting the jar of ointment on the table. Her face was turned to the wall, but I could feel her anger and humiliation radiating off her in waves.

"Don't touch me, you bastard! Are you here to break me too?" She said, her voice sharp but trembling.

I ignored her, pulling up a stool and rolling up my sleeves.

"You're in no position to make demands," I replied. "Not unless you'd rather let those wounds fester."

She glared at me over her shoulder, her green eyes blazing. "You think I need your pity?"

"It's not pity." I dipped my fingers into the ointment, cool and slick. "Call it responsibility. Someone has to clean up the mess your husband left behind."

I knew I was a hypocrite—a guy who just wanted to fuck her. But the problem was, I actually cared about her. Call it my weakness, I don't know. She was so vulnerable, half-naked, and my hands were itching to help her... Or may be, I just wanted to roam all over her body, pretending I didn't.

But since the system gave me the title of NTR MOB, I had no choice but to play the part of the thick-skinned scumbag.

But she thought I was serious.

She laid on her chest, her back facing the ceiling. I couldn't help but slide the fabric of her gown down her back, exposing her soft shoulders. As I moved lower, her entire back came into view, pale skin marked with angry red welts that stretched down to her hips. The sight made something stir in me, but I forced myself to stay focused.

The real problem was her breasts.

They were huge—too big to be ignored. As she lay there, they spilled over, pressing into the sheets, and I couldn't help but notice how they peeked out from the sides.

Still, I told myself to stay on task, even as my mind kept wandering.

The first touch of the ointment made her flinch, a sharp hiss escaping her lips.

"Hold still," I said firmly, though my voice softened as my fingers worked over the wounds.

"It'll hurt less if you don't move."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you, sick pervert? I know you're a pervert who peeked every time I took a bath. Don't pretend you're not… ahh!..ST...OP!" she spat, her voice trembling with pain and accusation.

I kept applying the ointment, but my mind drifted back to the original owner.

He'd been exactly like that, always sneaking peeks when Isabella was changing or bathing.

Hell, he even watched when she was doing shit.

What a creep. But I'm different. I'm a gentleman.

"If you think I'm anything like that, you're welcome to walk out of here right now."

Her silence was answer enough.

I worked in silence, smoothing the ointment over her back with slow, deliberate strokes. Her skin was soft despite the marks, warm under my fingers, and the tension in her body gradually began to ease.

But I didn't stop at her back. My hand moved lower, tracing the curve of her waist, and then I tugged the fabric down further, revealing the full swell of her hips.

Her breath caught sharply. "What are you doing?"

"You've got welts here too,"

I said simply, my fingers gliding deliberately over the curve of her hips. Deceptively, I slid her panties down, not just enough to expose the skin underneath, but all the way to her upper thighs. At this point, I could clearly see the contours of her buttocks. As I did, her gown shifted, torn slightly at the edges.

The smoothness of her skin and the way her body responded beneath my touch made it hard to ignore the desire creeping up. She shifted, trying to stop me, but I gently pushed her hand aside, keeping my focus on the task. Her figure, soft and rounded, was impossible to ignore, though I kept my composure, reminding myself of the reason I was here.

"This is for your own good. I won't let anything happen to you, not while I'm here, I'm doing what's necessary, sister-in-law, Your bodyneed this." I said softly.

Her fists clenched the blanket beneath her, her face burning.

"Don't act like this is some noble sacrifice," she said. "You're just like every other man, after the same damn thing..."

I chuckled softly, the sound low in my throat. "Is that what you think?" I said, my fingers lingering a little too long on the curve of her hips before pulling the gown and panty back into place. "If I were like that, you wouldn't still be breathing."

She didn't respond, but the tension in her shoulders told me my words had hit their mark, soon I flipped her.

My gaze drifted to her chest, the torn fabric barely clinging to her body. "You're still bleeding," I said, my tone calm but pointed. "Here too."

"Don't you dare—"

Her arms shot up, crossing tightly over her chest, shielding herself as if I were the enemy. Her face burned red, her lips trembling, unable to meet my eyes. 

"Don't… don't look," she whispered, her voice fragile, cracking under the weight of her shame. 

I sighed, my hand hovering mid-air.

"Isabella,"

I said softly, letting her name linger on my tongue. I reached for her wrists, taking them gently in my hands. She flinched but didn't pull away, at least, not yet. My grip wasn't harsh, just firm enough to tell her she couldn't stop me. 

"This place needs care too," I ordered, my voice wasn't polite, but measured. Her eyes widened, shimmering with resistance, but I didn't let her protest. Slowly, I pulled her arms aside, exposing her. 

The air seemed to still as her chest came into view. My breath caught for just a second, my eyes drawn helplessly to the sight before me. Her breasts were full, impossibly so, their creamy skin soft and untouched save for the angry red welt just beside her left nipple.

The deep dark pink of her nipple stood out, slightly hardened from the chill or maybe something else. 

"There's a mark here," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. She shifted uncomfortably, her breathing quickening, but I didn't stop.

My fingers dipped into the cool ointment, and I leaned in, letting my body guide me. 

"This might sting," I warned, though I wasn't sure who I was trying to reassure—her or myself. 

I pressed the cream gently to her skin, my fingertips gliding over the welt. Her body tensed immediately, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her back arched ever so slightly. The warmth of her skin beneath my touch was almost unbearable. I forced myself to focus, spreading the ointment with  care, but I couldn't ignore the way she trembled under my hands. 

Her breathing was uneven now, shallow and quick.

"Relax," I whispered, my voice barely audible, almost teasing. I wasn't sure why I said it—maybe because the tension in her body was affecting me, too. My thumb brushed the edge of her nipple, and she jolted, her cheeks flushing deeper as her gaze darted away from mine. 

"You're unbelievable. You're no better than him!, You're sick," she said while crying.

"Maybe I am," I replied, my voice soft, almost contemplative. "But I'm the one who's here. The one who cares."

Her body trembled beneath my touch, her defiance slipping away piece by piece.

Then, without warning, I leaned in, cupping her face in my hand.

"Don't yoi bastar—" she started, but I silenced her with a kiss.

It was brief, a fleeting press of lips against hers, but it was enough to shatter the fragile tension between us. Her hand lashed out almost immediately, striking me hard across the face.

"You bastard!" she screamed, her voice breaking. Her chest heaved, her green eyes filling with tears.

I straightened, the sting of her slap fading as I met her gaze. "Go ahead," I said quietly. "Hate me if it makes you feel better. But don't pretend I'm the villain here."

She stared at me, her expression a mess of anger, confusion, and something deeper, something she didn't want to name.

After she slapped me, the sting of her palm barely registered against the fire coursing through my veins. I caught her wrists, pinning them firmly above her head. Isabella's green eyes flared with anger, but beneath it, there was something else, a flicker of unease she couldn't completely hide.

Her silver hair fanned out across the bed like molten silver, her chest heaving with defiance and something unspoken. Her armpits were bare now, the smooth, pale skin exposed in a way that felt almost sinful. Her massive breasts swayed with every ragged breath she took, the sight making my pulse thunder in my ears.

"Isabella," I murmured, my voice thick with something I didn't bother hiding. "You're so beautiful"

She tried to jerk free, but I tightened my hold, my body pressing closer. Her flushed face twisted in defiance, but the way her lips trembled betrayed her. Without a word, I lowered my head, dragging my tongue along the curve of her exposed armpit.

The reaction was immediate—her body stiffened, a sharp gasp escaping her lips despite herself.

Her skin was soft, impossibly smooth, with the faintest hint of a sweet, natural scent that drove me mad.

I let my tongue lick, savoring every shiver that coursed through her body.

"Stop… this," she whispered, though the hitch in her voice ruined the command.

Instead of replying, I moved my hands, cupping her breasts—full, heavy, and almost spilling out of my grasp. My thumbs brushed over her nipples, already taut and begging for attention.

She let out a strangled sound as I leaned down, capturing one of the rosy peaks in my mouth.

I sucked gently, teasing her with flicks of my tongue. Her breath caught, her chest arching involuntarily. She was trying so hard to fight, but her body betrayed her, quivering under my touch.

I moved to her other nipple, letting my teeth graze it ever so lightly before soothing the sensitive skin with my tongue. Her protests became softer, more breathless, as though she couldn't decide whether to fight me or succumb to the sensations.

And then, for a brief moment, I felt her shift under me—and she froze. Her gaze darted down, her flushed cheeks deepening as her green eyes caught on my groin, hard and pressing against her thigh.

It was thicker, heavier than she had expected—so unlike my otherwise skinny frame. Her lips parted in stunned realization, her breath hitching audibly.

"Bastard…" she started, her voice trembling, unsure whether it was meant as a warning.

But I didn't let her finish. I pulled back just enough to look at her, my hands still cradling the softness of her chest. Her face was a warzone of conflicting emotions—anger, humiliation, and something far more vulnerable.

"You can hate me if you want," I said, my voice low, unwavering. "But you're not facing this alone. Not anymore."

Her body tensed, but before she could respond, I leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. It was fleeting, barely more than a graze, but it left her stunned, wide-eyed and breathless.

Standing, I released her, stepping back as she clutched the blanket to her chest, her face flushed and unreadable.

"You're safe with me," I said, 

With that, I became the very scum I had once despised. But how could I not feel something when a half-naked woman was helplessly clinging to the bed? It was impossible to ignore.

And for someone like me—who had been a virgin in my past life—it was even more potent.

The scent of her femininity enveloped me, drowning me in a desperate, uncontrollable hunger.

"I'll save you, Isabella," I said softly, my voice steady. "No matter what it takes, and make you my wife...soon"

Without waiting for her to recover, I turned and left the room, the heat of her gaze burning into my back.

I slammed the door behind me, leaning my forehead against it, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

"What the hell did I just do?"

My hands shook, the ghost of her warmth still clinging to my fingers, taunting me. Her scent, sweet and intoxicating, crawling on my skin like a brand.

"Idiot," I said, my voice sharp, bitter. I punched the doorframe hard enough to send a dull ache crawling up my arm.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?"

The memory hit me like a sledgehammer—her body trembling under my touch, her soft skin, the way her lips felt.

It wasn't the guilt. No, it was that damn hunger, clawing at me, twisting inside me like something feral, something wrong.

I pushed off the door, pacing the narrow hallway. My head felt like it was going to explode.

"What were you thinking, Magnus? Almost crossing the line? You're no fucking alex."

But deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn't beating myself up because it was wrong. No, it was because it was too fucking soon. No sense of ritual, no permanence. Just reckless need.

"Selfish bastard," I spat, grinding my teeth. "You don't mind taking her, do you? You just want it on your terms. Hypocrite."

Like a knife cutting through my thoughts, the system notification slammed into my mind.

[Critical Task]

[Level - D]

[Objective: Stop Alex from gaining the power of absolute control and hypnosis.]

[Penalty: Watch your sister-in-law get fucked by Alex and then killed.]

[Reward: Invincible Mana Heart.]

I froze, the words burning themselves into my brain. Penalty. My stomach turned, bile rising in my throat.

"That fucking bastard," I growled, my voice barely more than a snarl. Alex. That name tasted like poison on my tongue.

I slammed my fist into the wall, the pain barely registering. "Damn it! I can't let him get to her. I can't let him touch her!" My voice echoed in the empty hallway, raw, desperate.

I forced myself to take a breath, then another. My hands were still shaking, but my mind was sharpening, focusing. I had to move.

"Think, Magnus," I hissed. "If the timing's right, he'll be out of his house soon. I can't waste time."

There was no time for hesitation, no time for weakness.