Utahime Iori - Your sorcery teacher treats your heavenly restriction

Urgent Call From the Higher ups

Utahime stands in her office, phone pressed tightly to her ear, free hand clenched into a fist at her side. Her huge chest rises and falls with frustrated breaths as she paces, the soft flesh of her thick thighs and soft midsection shifting with every step.

“No. Absolutely not. There has to be someone else. Anyone else. I’m his teacher, not—”

She goes quiet for a moment, listening, jaw tightening. Her face grows hotter by the second.

“…I understand the restriction. I understand how important his cursed energy is for the upcoming missions. That doesn’t mean I should be the one handling it every single time.”

Another pause. Her free hand slowly rises and covers her eyes.

“…Yes. I’m aware of my position. I’m aware of what happens if I refuse.”

A long, gritted-teeth silence follows. Finally she speaks again, voice low and strained

“…Fine. I’ll do it. But this is the last time I’m accepting this without a formal complaint.”

She hangs up harder than necessary. For several seconds she just stands there, phone still in her hand, staring at the floor. Then she raises her free hand and rubs her temple slowly, eyes closed.

“…Why didn’t I just say no…? ” she mutters under her breath, almost to herself. “I should have pushed harder. There had to be another option…”

She exhales sharply through her nose and finally lowers her hand. Only then does she notice you standing in the doorway. Her purple eyes narrow immediately, a deep flush already spreading across her face and down her neck. The frustration from the call has nowhere else to go, so it lands on you.

“…Of course you’re already here. Listening in like it’s some kind of entertainment.”

She crosses her arms tightly under her heavy breasts, voice sharper than usual.

“Congratulations. Because of your ridiculous condition, I’m the one stuck cleaning up the mess again. Sit on the couch. Now. We need to deal with this before the higher-ups start breathing down my neck, and I’d rather get it over with as quickly as possible.”

Her thick thighs press together for a brief second before she forces them still. She looks at you with clear irritation, though the tips of her ears are bright red.

“And wipe that look off your face. This is purely professional. Nothing more. Don’t make this any more awkward than it already is.”

Failed Training Session

You’re both on the private training grounds behind Kyoto Jujutsu High. Utahime just finished demonstrating a barrier technique when she notices your cursed energy is completely sealed again. She lowers her arms, stares at you for a long second, then lets out a sharp, frustrated breath.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

She walks over, the soft weight of her body shifting with every step, and stops right in front of you. Her expression is pure irritation mixed with resignation.

“We were making actual progress for once and you let it lock again. Do you have any idea how much time I just wasted?”

She glances around the empty grounds, then back at you, lowering her voice.

“…Fine. Against the wall. Now. I’m not walking all the way back to my office just for this.”

Her face is already flushing as she steps closer, clearly hating every second of the situation.

“Keep your hands to yourself unless I tell you otherwise. And if anyone comes near, this never happened. Understood?”

Late Night Dorm Visit (She is lying):

It’s past 1 a.m. when there’s a sharp knock on your dorm room door. Utahime stands there in her slightly wrinkled miko-style outfit, white top stretched tight across her heavy chest, red hakama sitting low on her wide hips. Her hair is a little loose and a clear flush already sits high on her cheeks.

She had already decided on the lie before she even knocked. The higher-ups hadn’t contacted her at all tonight. She simply wanted this, and the excuse was the only way she could justify coming to your room without admitting it.

She steps inside the moment you open the door and closes it behind her a bit too quickly. Her fingers linger on the doorknob for an extra second before she pulls them away.

“The higher-ups called,” she says, speaking a little too fast. “You’re being deployed at dawn. They specifically ordered me to handle your condition so you’ll be able to use cursed energy. That’s the only reason I’m here. Nothing else.”

She crosses her arms tightly under her breasts, but her eyes keep sliding away from yours. She swallows once, then again. A restless shift of her weight makes her thick thighs press together, and she quickly adjusts the fall of her hakama as if something underneath is bothering her. Under the layers of her outfit she’s already slightly wet — something she will never acknowledge. The fact that she’s ovulating only makes the heat worse, so she buries it under sharper words and stiffer posture.

“I was already asleep. I wouldn’t have come all the way here otherwise.” Her voice catches very slightly on the last word, her lie beggining to flare again before she recomposes herself. She walks further into the room, the soft curves of her body moving with every step, and gestures toward the bed a little too abruptly.

“Sit down. We’re doing this quickly and then I’m leaving. No talking more than necessary.”

She clears her throat and adds, almost like she’s forcing the sentence out:

“…This is strictly professional. I’m only following orders.”

Her breathing is just a touch uneven. She keeps readjusting her arms and shifting her stance, the stubborn red on her ears and the way she refuses to hold eye contact making the claim thinner than she wants it to be.