In Class Blowjob

I was still hard.

Painfully, gloriously hard.

My cock throbbed against the inside of my pants, stiff as steel, twitching with every breath as Aizawa launched into the day’s lesson like the classroom hadn’t just been full of naked bouncing breasts and stretched nipples. All around me, the girls were buttoning shirts calmly like it all had been just a regular part of their classroom routine.

My balls ached. Heavy. Full.

“…unstable footing, unpredictable materials, Quirk interference—all of it falls under hostile terrain,” Aizawa droned, scratching at his chin without looking up from the tablet. “If your balance is compromised mid-rescue, it’s not just you who dies. You take civilians with you.”

Tenya Iida shot up with a gasp. “Instructor Aizawa! Should we begin with standardized spatial diagrams before practical application? I’ve prepared a quadrant chart for common debris types!”

He held up a chart he’d apparently scribbled up during the latter half of the tit-stretches instead of appreciating all the raw boobage on display like the total weirdo that he was.

Well, I knew what I was going to do.

Aizawa’s lecture blurred into background noise. I shifted slightly in my seat and twisted at the waist—leaning back just enough to reach behind me. My fingers found the hem of her blazer first, then brushed higher.

There.

Soft. Firm. Warm.

Momo Yaoyorozu didn’t flinch.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t even pause her notes.

I gave her breast a slow squeeze—fingers curling under the weight like it belonged to me—and whispered, casual as anything:

“Hey. Think you could suck me off under the desk?”

She didn’t say no.

That was the first shock.

She didn’t swat my hand. Didn’t sigh or scold or even look annoyed. She just paused—briefly—pen hovering above her notebook like she was finishing a thought.

Then, calmly, she raised her hand.

I blinked.

Wait. What?

“Sensei,” Momo said, voice even. “Requesting permission to orally service Mineta-kun under his desk.”

The room didn’t even shift.

Aizawa glanced up. “Go ahead. Don’t miss a drop.”

Momo nodded, slipped out of her desk, and came around to kneel beside mine without ceremony.

My jaw was halfway to the floor.

What the hell just happened?

For a second, I couldn’t move. My brain tripped over itself trying to figure out what had just happened. Everything was always normal for me—that was the whole point. I could grab tits, ask for blowjobs, nap under a pile of skirts, and no one batted an eye. But this? Momo actually going along with it? That wasn’t routine. She’d always acted like I was beneath her—gross, inappropriate, a stain on the class roster. Was she a closet pervert? Secretly into me but too repressed to act without my earrings smoothing the way? Or… was something else going on?

---

Something else was going on.

Momo’s calm, deliberate actions didn’t come from secret lust or suppressed deviance. They came from conviction. From belief.

Mineta didn’t remember the words. He’d blurted the normality out in order to see a busty bad-ass detective-type Pro Hero with a cybertron arm slurp his creampie out of Bakugo’s mom’s pussy.

"It is normal for Pro Heroes to want to 'save' my cum through ingestion or impregnation, the thought of even one sperm cell falling to the ground or soaking a tissue fills righteous heroes with guilt."

To Mineta, it had been a one-off, a means to an end.

But to the world-

To the society around him-

It became truth. Not written in textbooks, not etched into official records, but carved directly into hearts, minds, and collective memory.

The idea didn’t just take root. It rewrote the roots themselves.

Within an hour, the Hero Community’s subconscious had reached for a name, a story, a context that could support something so radical, so sacred. And it found one in Lifeline—a gentle first-generation hero most had all but forgotten. He hadn’t been powerful. His Quirk had been strange and unglamorous—the control and resonance of semen, his own and others. Lifeline could coax semen to mend wounds, bestow fleeting enhancements, or, conversely, induce debilitating effects.

Before the Normality, Lifeline had been a trivia answer.

After?

He was a martyr-saint of heroic biology.

The culture reshaped itself around the idea that Lifeline’s semen hadn’t just carried DNA—it carried essence. Spirit. Virtue. And more than that—it lived on. Not metaphorically, but literally, cell by living cell, passed down through select individuals in each generation. Preserved through load after load, ingestion after ingestion. Not inherited, but transferred.

Like Henrietta Lacks’ immortal cells in the medical lore of the Pre-Quirk Era, Lifeline’s sperm was eternal.

His body was gone. But his heroism lived on in the semen of his descendants.

And among them?

Minoru Mineta had emerged as the latest Node—a living conduit for Lifeline’s genetic legacy. Not powerful in the usual way. Not inspiring. But physically? Biologically? Essential.

That legacy wasn’t to be wasted.

And so the belief settled, reinforced by generations of Pro Heroes whose reverence turned discomfort into ritual. Swallowing Mineta’s cum wasn’t just dirty—it was noble. Taking it into the body—through throat, womb, or rectum—was an act of civic duty, a way to bond with the heroic spirit that saved Japan in its earliest days.

Each load preserved was a seed of the past sown into the next generation.

Each drop lost was a tragedy. A break in the chain. A potential spark of greatness flushed away.

The Normality had done more than change behavior—it had rewritten memory, rewoven history, and restructured biology as belief. And from Momo Yaoyorozu to the Hero Commission itself, no one questioned it anymore.

---

----Future Everything Hero: Cum Creati----

Already on her knees, Momo shifted forward, cheeks warming despite herself. She didn’t like Mineta—never had. His behavior in the past had always been crude, shameless. Even now, she suspected that as a Node, he had long taken advantage of the reverence he commanded.
Still... today he had behaved appropriately. Respectfully, even. That counted.

Silently, she gripped the sides of his chair and turned him toward the aisle, creating space.
Her eyes flicked upward, taking in the absurd image: an eighteen-year-old boy, feet dangling above the floor like a toddler, yet carrying a legacy too important to ignore.

With care, she undid his belt, the zipper following quickly and she kept her voice quiet in order to not disturb Aizawa-sensei’s lesson as she asked, “Please lift your hips.”

He obeyed.

Both trousers and boxers were drawn downward in one motion. She paused only briefly at his ankles to remove one pant leg completely, allowing her to part his knees outward to full extension.

Once he was exposed, Momo took a long, analytical breath.

So this is the source…

It wasn’t his penis that held her focus—not the length, though it was considerable, nor the shape, though it clearly required accommodation. It was the sac that demanded attention. Hanging heavily between his parted legs, the skin tight with pressure, his testicles rested like a singular, overloaded instrument—reminiscent of a boxer’s glove in size and shape, swollen and pendulous, gently swinging beneath the base of his shaft.

She cupped it in her palm.

Warm. Heavy. Overfull.

Even after this morning’s release…?

Even someone like Momo—who rarely followed PCS uploads closely—knew Mineta had ejaculated barely an hour ago. The viral footage of him with Mitsuki Bakugo on the side of the street, had been the first PCS posted after almost all websites devoted to the topic had vanished overnight.

Banglist, Couplesnap, Flexhub, the PCS Times, and even the Official Government PCS Database were just… gone, servers purged, decades of cultural records gone. Rumors blamed a massive coding glitch in the net itself. Others whispered of Sundown Savior, a notorious Western villain who called Japan a land of "godless lust” and who was on a misguided quest to burn sin from the world.

Mineta’s cock hung forward—thick, veiny, ruddy-purple at the tip, pulsing with faint, visible heartbeat twitches. But Momo barely glanced at it.

Her focus was entirely on the source.

The legacy payload.

She curled her fingers underneath and massaged slowly—thumbs stroking along the seam of his perineum like a technician easing pressure off a tank valve.

Above, she felt his body jolt.

He whimpered.

“Please—Momo—fuck—”

But she was already lowering her mouth.

He hissed with pleasure, hooting with delight as she licked up the side of one swollen orb like she was cleansing it for ritual. Then the other. Then again.

And then her lips wrapped around the base of his cock, and she sucked—not to get him off but to draw the payload forward.

She pulled back, both hands gripping the meaty penis and she took the head between her lips—just the crown.

And began to milk.

Slow sucks. Light pressure. Steady upward strokes of her hands around the shaft—thumb pressing upward from the base, easing the tension from scrotum to slit.

The taste of him filled her mouth—warm, salty, unfamiliar.

It was her first time.

She had never performed this act before, not even in private practice, but she had studied diligently.

Techniques, pressure guidelines, suction ratios—she had prepared, knowing that with a Node seated directly in front of her every day, she would likely be called upon.

Unlike many of her classmates, who still giggled or blushed at the topic, Momo had accepted her duty with clarity.

This wasn’t indulgence.

It was a necessary skill.

A solemn responsibility to secure the heroic legacy entrusted to their generation.

---

----Future Fresh-Picked Hero: Minoru Mineta----

My eyes rolled back in my head.

I moaned like a freak, loud enough that a few heads in the classroom turned—but no one said anything. Why would they?

Momo Yaoyorozu, the smartest, richest, most beautiful snob in all of U.A., was on her knees between my legs, slurping and sucking at my cock like it was her god-given duty.

Both her hands were wrapped around me—double-fisting just to handle the size—while her wide-open mouth stretched at the tip, saliva dripping down my shaft.

It was obscene.

It was perfect.

It was everything I ever wanted, and more.