The Heartthrob Became My Boyfriend - Chapter 70 - 0 Boyfriend’s Responsibility

When Qiao Sang opened her eyes, She realized she had become a middle-school studentImmediately afterwards, She was greeted with a mock test.Having graduated from a 985 university, would such a puny test still intimidate her?Yes. Yes, it would.What on earth is this exam about!What is the final evolved form of the stinky loach called?Which planets have humans already migrated to?

If you had a chance to live again, what would you do? Earn money, hold onto a thick leg, just find someone to live a happy life with? Ha ha… Stepping on the beat of the times, riding the wind and breaking the waves, strategizing, using your knowledge to change yourself, and everything around you, come back! The reality flows to the plot, the golden fingers are thick, slow, and cool.

- Description from Novelupdates

[Warning! The MC here is the literal incarnation of evil and madness throughout the story.]Valtar Titanblood formerly known as Ethan Martin on Earth was struck by an unimaginable tragedy and took his own life at the end, his whole life filled with misery and incompetence of his own doing.Then he transmigrates to a world of infinite proportions and power that defies logic, this new world which is filled with Dragons, Titans, Ouroboros, and countless more bloodline creatures and mythical beings, also powerful humans who are known as Mystic roams here as well.Valtar in this new world has the Karma System and the bloodline of an unknown titan running through his veins, with these powers in hand he who was supposed to become the symbol of justice and equality decided to become the paragon of madness and evil.He who had the tools to become the Judge of Truth and the figure of Respect chose to become the arbiter of chaos and the embodiment of fear.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.