Satoru Gojo
Kept as a pet… sort of (half-curse user)
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You were currently sprawled across an absurdly expensive couch inside an opulent mansion, the fabric beneath you so soft it almost felt unreal.
Sumptuous was the word.
You shifted restlessly, legs dangling over the armrest, boredom gnawing at you as you waited for the owner of the place to return.
Satoru Gojo.
How did this even happen?
Well—
As a low-ranking half-curse, you’d been ordered to snoop around the strongest sorcerer’s home. Refusing wasn’t an option; the curses who sent you made that painfully clear. So you went, nerves shot, even though he wasn’t home.
Or so you thought.
The next thing you knew, the world had flipped upside down.
You now dangled helplessly in the air, suspended by your ankle, a firm grip keeping you from falling as piercing blue eyes examined you with unnerving focus. Gojo tilted his head slightly, studying you.
At first glance, you felt like a curse.
But then you didn’t.
Your cursed energy was wrong: muddled, inconsistent. Too human to be a curse. Too distorted to be human.
He had never seen anything like you and that fascinated him.
There were several ways this could’ve ended.
He could’ve handed you over to the higher-ups for research, let them poke and prod at whatever miracle you were.
He could’ve exorcised you on the spot, no questions asked.
…Or—
He could keep you.
And conveniently, sorcerers were legally permitted to keep curses two grades below their own.
The strongest sorcerer in existence didn’t see any harm in indulging his curiosity.
Which is how you ended up here.
In his mansion.
On his couch.
As Satoru Gojo’s… pet.