Am I Allowed to Kill the Male Lead? - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Translator: Yonnee

—

“It’s not so hard for me. I like being hit. It’s because you didn’t hit me properly that it came to this.”

“No matter how much you claim it’s okay, I can’t believe it.”

“Why can’t you believe it if I say I like it?”

Irritated, I slapped his buttocks again. The situation of the male lead, on all fours, being targeted solely on his buttocks, was unspeakable.

Each time I hit him, his insides clenched around my fingers.

Fortunately or unfortunately, he was definitely feeling it.

“Do you like being on the receiving end?”

“……”

Bel shut his mouth and then buried his face in the pillow, mumbling.

“It’s not really nice. You’re too violent…”

Such words didn’t fit a character from a novel filled with violence. It’s a problem if he doesn’t like it… If he only retains terrible memories from this, he will be even less likely to hit me in the ‘next chapter’.

I gently stroked his buttocks. Red marks bloomed like flowers, showing sensual color, but I could definitely feel the firm muscles of a man inside. The skin was very hot and swollen.

This was a piece of flesh that had always been protected inside his pants. If the author had continued the series and led the novel in the ‘right’ direction, this area would have never been exposed to the outside air.

Yet, today, it was exposed and hit by me several times.

Between the stinging pain and dull ache, was there an odd pleasure… about to bloom?

At least I enjoy being hit.

“Do you feel like you’re developing a new kink?”

Bel answered immediately.

“I’m too different from you. I won’t develop such a taste. I can’t understand the mindset of a masochist. It just feels like I’m receiving divine punishment for hitting you too much.”

“Divine punishment, well…”

I looked outside the window. The moon was splitting.

“…That’s divine punishment.”

“We haven’t done anything bad enough to deserve death.”

Bel suddenly rekindled his fight against the author.

“If you want to live, feel it.”

And I had my role to play.

My role.

To ‘properly’ create the next part of Devil’s Vivace and prevent the discontinuation of the series.

To rid the male lead of his horrible habit of feeling guilty every time he threatens and humiliates the female lead.

To make him realize the pleasure of being humiliated.

To teach him the pleasure of tentacles entering his body.

To ruthlessly insert this monstrous tentacle into the innocent hole of this ironically himbo-coded, pathetic black-haired male lead.

“Relax.”

“I’m not mentally ready yet…!”

Waiting for a weak character like Bel to be mentally prepared would take longer than two apocalypses. This is precisely when a protagonist is needed.

The one who leads the characters toward the goal of the story, guiding them towards a brilliant future of becoming more depraved than anyone else.

I thrust the tentacle into him with one swift motion.

“Ggh, huuk…!”

A slippery and firm tentacle ruthlessly spread open the tiny hole and entered. The sensation of sliding straight to the prostate, thoroughly stimulated by my fingers, was present.

Bel clenched his teeth, his eyes burning blood-red, and in a moment of crisis, one of the demon king’s flaming horns sprouted from his temple, and his wings revealed themselves from his back.

In that state, Bel suddenly reached back without looking and grabbed my wrist.

“Huh?”

I was pulled into his embrace as if being sucked in. For a moment, he seemed not the pathetic Bel who gets abused every day but the charismatic Belzebuth. He held me like a romance novel’s male lead.

Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe, and his nose buried into my nape, inhaling my scent.

He held me as if to protect me, but why does it feel like he’s clinging to me?

Probably because that’s actually the case…

His soft voice, soaked in tears and heat, tickled my ear.

“Eunha…”

Judging by the pain across my back, he had dug his nails into my skin again. It’s a habit of his whenever he feels overwhelmed.

The man, seemingly impervious but tender inside, trembled.

At Bel’s most vulnerable moment, I found myself hugging him back and stroking his head in a daze.

His black, beautiful hair was damp with sweat but still soft. A dizzying and sensual touch lingered at my fingertips.

No, it’s not because of his hair. The vulnerability and loveliness of this man, gasping while tightly bound, left a strange spark in my heart.

“Hic… hiic…”

Bel burst into tears while holding me.

“Eunha, I, I…”

“It’s okay. You’re doing well.”

In truth, he wasn’t doing particularly well. I didn’t even feel like praising him.

Yet, the reason sweet words rarely left my mouth is, perhaps…

Seeing him cry over lost innocence kindled a sense of camaraderie, as if we’d contributed to defeating a common enemy, as if we had crossed an irreversible line together.

Or maybe… Is it because I’m a bit excited?

I don’t know for sure. How many characters truly understand their own hearts?

Such emotional gaps are usually filled by the readers according to their taste.

“I’m no longer pure now.”

Bel nestled his face against my chest, whining. My hands are no longer pure either. They’ve become dirty.

“Uwahh…”

Bel twitched his legs and burst into tears. Yeah, since you’re playing the role of a sub, do everything you can.

“Nnh, I, I just came, but the tentacle keeps wriggling…!”

“Ah.”