NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain

"Wh—WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Lily screeched, her body jolting as she finally processed exactly what was happening.

Her hands shot down to pry his perverted grip off her ass—but the moment she did, he squeezed again.

Firmly.

Possessively.

Like a man determined to leave finger imprints on her soul.

"W-WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

She yelled, flushed, flustered, and absolutely furious.

"L-LET GO OF MY ASS!!!"

And worst of all?

Nobody had ever touched her ass like this.

Not even her damn fiancé, Hajin and fuck, now that she was experiencing it—

She hated how much she noticed.

"Wh-what the?! What the hell are you doing?!"

Her voice cracked as her hands shot down to yank his perverted grip off her plump, round cheeks.

But Artis?

This lunatic didn't even flinch.

He held firm, fingers digging into the softest flesh he had ever touched, like a sculptor admiring his masterpiece.

"A kind thing, Lily. A kind thing."

His voice was silky, smooth, like he was doing some noble service instead of publicly fondling her ass in front of a crowd of traumatized men.

Lily's eyes twitched.

"A KIND THING?!"

Her ass wobbled in his grip, the tight fabric struggling to contain the obscene curves.

It was so damn tight, so damn perfectly shaped, that it molded around his fingers, leaving indents as he lifted and pressed like he was testing the bounce on a premium mattress.

The exposed, half-naked man, who had been forced into this nonsense against his will, was sweating bullets.

He wasn't even looking at the ass.

Because every single time he so much as tried to glance, Artis would narrow his eyes at him, as if daring him to make eye contact.@@novelbin@@

Meanwhile—

The knocked-out men?

Oh, they were very much awake now.

Their eyelids fluttered, their heads tilted, their breathing shallowed.

It was like watching a live performance of something they'd have to pay extra for in a back-alley brothel.

"W-what kind thing is that?!"

Lily shrieked, her face red hot as she desperately tried to process the absolute lunacy unfolding in real-time.

One moment, she was watching a brawl.

The next—

Her goddamn ass was being showcased like a rare, priceless artifact.

What the actual fuck happened in between?!

"To make these men accept homosexuality."

Artis declared, proudly. Like a noble crusader on a righteous quest.

He gave her ass another squeeze, gently lifting, then dropping—watching the way the plump flesh rippled through the fabric.

"To make sure they never bully this proud man again. And for that, Lily—I need your help."

Lily gawked. Her mind shattered.

Was this real life?

Was she hallucinating?

Because what in the absolute fuck was he talking about?!

Sure, she had heard the perverted comments about the half-naked guy earlier, but she had assumed it was just dirty locker-room banter.

But now?

Now, she wasn't so sure.

Because not only was Artis dead serious, but the poor, pants-ripped man was actually nodding along, eyes wide with sheer terror.

Lily felt her sanity slip.

...

The bicep guy stood hunched over, hands on his knees, sucking in ragged, wheezing breaths through his broken, hanging jaw. He was sweating like a whore in a confessional.

He had seen some shit in his life. But this?

This was a whole new level of disrespect.

He wasn't even mad about his friend's pants getting ripped off anymore.

No—his real fury came from watching another man do what he had only dreamed of.

His fists clenched. His blood boiled.

'That should be me! That should be my hands! My fingers! My kneading technique!'

The motherfucker wasn't just fondling Lily's juicy ass—he was putting on a damn performance.

And the worst part?

He was fucking good at it.

Each squeeze, each lift and drop of those plump, round cheeks was like a professionally trained masseuse handling a pair of divine watermelons.

The mockery was unbearable.

'That fucker is showing off!'

Bicep guy nearly bit off his own tongue in rage.

His friends—his perverted, down-bad, dogshit friends—had always dreamed of copping a feel of Lily's voluptuous, forbidden paradise.

But this lunatic?

This son of a bitch did it first.

Like it was his fucking right.

...

"B-But why does a homosexual guy need my body—"

"Shut up, Lily, now's not the time."

Artis cut her off with a firm tone, eyes blazing with what looked like righteous fury but was, in reality, a masterclass in improvisational bullshit.

"Now's the time to make them accept him. To make sure that future homosexual people have the right to live here, unjudged, unshamed, and free!"

Lily blinked, her lips parting slightly in confusion.

'What... what the hell was he talking about?'

She had so many questions.

Like, for instance, why would a gay man—who, by definition, likes men—need her body for anything? What was the need? What was the logic? Why did it feel like she was missing a crucial puzzle piece in this absurd equation?!

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But before she could articulate any of that, Artis's hands, with all the subtlety of a pickpocket in broad daylight, resumed their holy crusade—

Right.

On.

Her.

Ass.

A firm squeeze.

A greedy knead.

Like he was preparing the softest dough for the finest artisanal bread.

'Holy fuck.'

Artis thought, his face the picture of noble determination while his fingers sank into that perfectly plump peach.

'I can't believe this actually worked!'

Another squeeze. Another sinful press.

'Fuck, this piece of meat is divine...!'

Lily froze, her brain screeching to a halt like a carriage that had just crashed into a brick wall.

What. The hell. Was. Happening?!

This wasn't part of the plan. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This definitely wasn't how a proud, independent woman should be reacting—

But, oh gods, the way his fingers dug in...!

The rowdy gang, previously laughing and hollering, fell silent.

And then—

Then, like a synchronized orchestra of degeneracy—

Every. Single. One. Of their little soldiers stood up in rigid salute.

You could almost hear the collective tension.

The subtle shuffle of pants adjusting.

The silent, shameful acknowledgment that this—this unexpected display of power—was hot.

A bead of sweat rolled down one of the thug's temples.

Another licked his lips.