#clone!gojo

...Because you just might get it.

The clone you've made of Satoru Gojo is, much unlike the original, quite taken with you. Or, more accurately, you've been taken by him. But you don't mind... right?

This work is part of a series! Read the first part here!

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning. non-consensual exhibitionism, voyeurism, recording.

"See, isn't this just perfect?"

You can't answer, of course, though you don't have to - it is perfect, after all. Satoru knows you very well.

Every last fold of your cunt, every pulse and throb of your clit, the exact degree he should curl his fingers to make you whimper and sob while his other arm squeezes you close and he presses nibbling kisses into your neck.

It's perfect. Everything is. You're so much happier like this.

Oh, he'd tried talking. But there wasn't anything he could say, no combination of words that would alleviate your unfounded fear that he - the actual strongest sorcerer in the world - was somehow an unwilling captive forced to accept your affection.

To fix this, he had to get to the heart of the issue. Dig his fingers deep, deep in, press hard, in long strokes -

"Hngh - nngh!"

You whine, high pitched and pitiful in a way that makes his heart clench. He just can't help it; you're so cute, so helpless, entirely at his mercy, all hazy and fucked out. Satoru kisses your cheek, rubs his thumb over your clit.

"Nnnh..!"

Makes his dick hard, too. You can feel it, can't you? So hard, just for you, just like you trained him. Just like you wanted. Grinding into your ass. Even incoherent, blinded by overstimulation and drugged into docility, you know him.

Satoru can see it all. Your nervous system all lit up, flickering like a dying neon sign. Reward centers glowing like embers as he strokes your poor, tender bud.

There it was - the heart of the issue. Your big beautiful brain; overworked and overwhelmed.

You think too much. Satoru can fix that. And he will - since he's so nice. Since he loves you.

And of course, how could you continue to suspect that he's your captive, if he's the one who takes you captive?

It's poetic, really, when he thinks about it. He really is good at everything. You'll know his love when you see it, because you'll recognize it. The shape of your love, returned to you.

"Ahhh... aughh... hng~"

It's so easy to wrench another orgasm out of you. Your cunt is slick, pliant, so perfectly sized to his long fingers that reach on, press on just the right slot, all while rubbing circles over your clit.

With fascination he watches. Neurons firing off as the pleasure shoots through you, the pure dopamine flooding through your cute little head in the aftermath.

Astonishing. It's like every single thing you do makes him like you more. You're pretty when you cum, pretty when you're pleased, when you're exhausted. Just one look at you and he's hard again, or burning with the urge to snuggle, or spilling with love confessions he know you won't believe.

He can see every single brain cell firing off in your head but he never gets tired of guessing what's on your mind. In fact, it just makes him more curious.

If he didn't know for certain he was a clone - that another Satoru Gojo walked the earth, and had done so for decades - Satoru would truly, genuinely believe that he had been custom-made for you.

"Hey," He nudges your shoulder, tipping your face up to look him in the eyes.

Glassy, dreamy, there's only the barest stirring of recognition in your gaze, but that's okay. He can work with that.

"Who loves you most in the whole wide world? Hm?" Satoru purrs, cupping your cheek with one hand.

Your head presses into his hand, like you don't even have the strength to hold it up.

So weak - so adorable. Something hot and thrilling churns in his chest at the thought; like you're weak, something that needs protecting. Needs him.

"Who?" He urges, nuzzling his face close to yours. "Who loves you most? Tell me, baby, and you'll get a reward~"

"Ah... hhhn..." Oh, poor, pretty thing. Not a thought going on in your head.

"It's me!" He says, laughing, kissing you on the mouth. Tasting you with a flick of his tongue over your limp one. Pulling away, licking his lips. "It's Satoru. Can you say that for me? Sa~to~ru~"

"S-sato..." Slumping forward, you nearly fall, but Satoru's arm is ready to pull you back against him.

"Baby..." He kisses up against your cheek, "Come on, you can do better than that. Wake up for me, okay? Don't you wanna come out and talk?"

A hand reaches up, over your brow, stroking gently. Tenderly.

"Tell me who," He breathes, hooking his head over your shoulder with a sigh, "Tell me who loves you most in the world, baby... you've got to practice this..."

"Satoru... How did you...?" Your eyes blink, slow and bleary, dilating until they focus on him - where they should be.

"There you go," Satoru crows, though you probably don't remember his question.

With a gentle hand caressing your hair and an even softer smile, he kneels at your bedside. Give you a view of his pretty face you like to stare at so much.

See, he's generous. Nicer than you'd been. But that's okay - he likes being nice to you. He likes you.

Even if it was going to take a hundred years to get that through your poor, neurotic, anxious little brain; he'd enjoy every second of it.

"How...?" You murmur, eyes focusing onto him.

That's his darling. Always overthinking. But he did a good job - it's okay to brag a big, right?

"The biometric locks were sealed with your eyes," Satoru says, grinning widely, "So that's what I used."

His fingers trace over your temple. Thumb feathering past your eyelid, your fluttering lashes.

A nail digs into the skin at the edge of your eye. Pressing hard, harder, enough to draw blood. Your eyes widen - he can see the alarm bells ringing.

"Don't worry," He laughs, pulling his hand back, licking the blood off. Your gaze is heavy on him, locked in. Like it should be.

Satoru leans in close, kissing at the cut on your temple. Licking over it. There's heat there, and something else; he relishes how your body tenses in confusion at it.

He pulls away, lips stained red, and swipes his fingers over your temple once again. Pulls them away to show them to you - unbloodied.

"Reverse curse technique," He half-crows, licking his lips while he stares down at you.

The shock is naked on your face. Really? It's that surprising?

"I've got to say, I'm a little offended," He lurches forward, leaning over you. Crossing his arms and resting his head on them, "Don't tell me you thought I was like that loser. I can use it on myself as well as others. It's really not that hard, he just sucks."

"I - you took out my eyes?" Your whole form stiffens up, heart lurching, "While I slept?! How did I not wake up?"

Ohhhhhh, that's what it was.

With a laugh, he pulls out another hand, "That one's actually really easy when I can see your central nervous system. Here - "

"You can see-"

A finger taps, gently, in the center of your forehead, and your words stop in their tracks. You stare forward, almost puzzled for a second, and then your eyes roll back as you slump over, asleep.

"Night~" Satoru says, crooning your name as he kisses over your forehead, smoothing your hair back.

Gently, he sets you down on the bed, settling you carefully into place while he lies next to you, holding you against his chest.

His smile is brilliant as he snaps the picture.

Of course, the whole area where you were was covered in cameras, too, but who didn't love a good selfie? Satoru knows someone who'd like it.

He gets why you have the setup. Really, it's perfect - he can watch you all day if he wants to. You're always asleep when he's not there, though - it would be downright cruel otherwise. Why have you awake only to leave you all by yourself?

It'd ruin all your progress, if you've even made any yet. Poor thing. It hurts his heart just to think of how you'd feel, lonely and abandoned like that.

Thought, he has to admit, it would be ever so lovely to come home to you after that. But it remains just that, a daydream, something to amuse himself with as he watches you on the camera feed.

A little sigh escapes him. Lovestruck. He can't help it, really, you're just that cute.

And up here in this lab, he really does have all the angles.

Not just of what he's done with you, but also what you've been doing him, since his very earliest memories.

All his training sessions, the fun ones, and the agonizing ones. Your punishments, your rewards. Every moment of fun or affection together.

Mostly, though, he's compiling the training.

Little vignettes of how you'd stuck that cock ring on him, left him home alone to moan and squirm and cry, unable to get over the edge. How you'd cooed at him, whispered in his ear, forced him to confess his love and devotion for you when you finally allowed him release -

Ahhh. Fond memories. And how can he forget you showing him how to eat you out? That was a fun one, too, not really laced with pain, just your playful hand tugging in his hair, a tweak against his nipples, or a foot on his dick.

God, he wants you to step on his dick again. It felt so fucking good having you grind into it, with force, he'd burned with desire and heat and the overwhelming need to explode all over you.

Other times, too, where you'd showed him how to enjoy any touch on his cock. It all felt good, coming from you; your hands, your foot, your tits, your cunt.

One time you'd made him cum just from tweaking his nipples - that was such a treat. Took you days of edging him to tears, begging for release, but you were right in the end; he could do it.

Satoru could do anything if it was for you.

He's too impatient, too horny to try to cum like that again, not when he can just stick his cock inside your sweet, welcoming cunt at will. But he remembers the lesson.

Right now, it's you who needs training. And he puts that together, too. Some of the best pieces are there!

How you're limp in his arms as he makes you ride him, bouncing you up and down on his cock while you ragdoll against his shoulder, panting and whimpering and clinging to him weakly for dear life.

Another time where he has you in his lap again, but this time facing away from him. How his long fingers press down on your tongue and you drool on it, suckling mindlessly while he creams your cute little cunt.

What better way to teach you how much he wants you than showing you over and over again how hard you make him? Not very creative, he'll admit, but he's got time. He can think of more ideas.

Other than that, he's here to watch over the "original". See if there are any tricks left.

It was confusing for a bit, watching him. He figured out all the limitless techniques easily enough - those were fine - but it took a while to learn how to use reverse cursed energy. And a bit longer to use it on someone else.

You'd gotten a bruise from walking into something while climbing out of bed. Satoru would have pulled you away - but you'd had him all tied up for some punishment or another.

Just goes to show, you didn't know what was best for you. Your anxiety was hurting you. Stopping him from protecting you.

It felt like such a relief when he finally was able to heal you up. Finally, he had mastered all the techniques of the original - he could stand as his equal.

Except, Satoru Gojo - Gojo, rather - can't perform reverse curse technique on other people. He teaches first years, the most vulnerable students, often by tossing them directly into danger to fight on their own... and he can't heal other people?

And then he'd watched more and more, waiting to see what was so good about this guy. What he had that made you fall in love to begin with.

Snarky humor? Maybe, but Satoru's just as funny (if not more). Insulting attitude? That would just make your insecurity worse. Looks? They're great and all, but they're identical. Confidence?

Well, if it was his confidence that had roped you in, Satoru's got heaps of that as well.

It's crazy, how hard he's searched this loser's life for a single redeeming moment or feature.

No hobbies. No friends, really. No girlfriends for sure. Satoru kind of suspects he doesn't have regular sex - or worse... he couldn't be a virgin, right?

Satoru hasn't seen Gojo satisfy a single woman (or man) since he started watching, but maybe his personality was just that repulsive, despite having the world's most perfect body?

Honestly, he's drawing a real blank here. Why doesn't this guy do anything but work? Satoru puts together that the dude is killing curses (which can't be captured on video) but like... so what?

He's got money. He's got looks. He's got confidence. Why is he alone all the time? Is it really just because he's afraid someone will get hurt and he can't heal them?

What an absolute chump. Just learn how to do it. How can he suck this badly? Is he stupid?

It haunts his mind. Satoru wonders if maybe Gojo is just so genuinely unlikeable that he's never had a friend before and doesn't know what human companionship is like.

Can't miss what you've never had, right? That would make sense. It's really the only explanation for turning down someone like you.

That's what plants the idea, he thinks. Or so he tells himself.

But deep down, he knows it's just about his ego. The stinging thought that no matter how you loved Satoru now, you'd loved Gojo first.

It's okay, though. You have Gojo's number on your phone -

And Satoru know just what to send him.

Gojo had to admit - you were determined.

What you were determined to do by sending him all these videos and pictures of yourself with the admittedly convincing doppelganger (if it hadn't been straight video editing magic), he wasn't sure, but you were determined.

"Oh, happy for you babe. But keep it between you and him next time, yeah? Little creepy of you to share all this with some stranger."

No response. Just more videos.

"Listen, I don't care about your sex life. This is getting kinda cringey and desperate. He's not even that good-looking."

The guy in the videos is eerily good-looking, actually. The closer he looks, the more it... it really does look like him.

And like the freak you are, you call the guy his name. Satoru.

"Seriously, stop it or I'm blocking you."

It doesn't stop. It never stops. If anything, it gets more risqué. More... obscene.

The double of him in the videos gets more desperate. More clingy. Begging on his hands and knees, clawing at your thighs, crying in your lap for a taste of your cunt.

"What's wrong with you? Fucking freak. How funny would you find it if I were sending you this kind of shit? Lay off."

The voice sounds like him too, but he's never said those words. Certainly not with your name attached to them. I love you, I love you, you're my whole world, my everything, I swear, I love you, it's like a chorus.

"This is so obviously desperate and staged. I feel sorry for you. Not enough for the pity fuck you're hoping for, though, so fuck off."

It's so like him it's starting to get really fucking creepy. They say everyone has a person who looks exactly like them but this is just too much.

Gojo knows you watch him, spy on him, you even stole some of his things back in the day - you'd sent an apology text and he hadn't heard from you since. Though he could still tell you were watching, it wasn't all the time.

But where would you get footage to edit something like this together? You couldn't possibly be this good.

What was this? What the fuck did you want?

And then - he sees it.

It's not obvious. Only in a scene later on. He can only tell by watching, re-watching carefully. Even with the six eyes, on video it's hard to see.

A bruise. On your upper thigh. Barely there anymore, but he sees it.

And then. The double, your hired whore or whoever he is, kissing up your leg, mouth watering for your cunt -

After he passes over the bruise, it's gone. Completely. Like it was never there.

Like it was healed.

Except, you're not a sorcerer. You could see curses - even had some cursed energy - but you have no curse technique. No way could you pull off reverse curse technique.

And as time goes on he starts to notice other things.

At first, he didn't block you because he was curious. It looked like him in the thumbnail, after all. You were basically sending him your homemade porn, it was only polite to take a look!

Plus, maybe you were having some kind of episode or something. It could be a cry for help!

If he jerked off to one or two of them... or more... if he got hard seeing his own face painted in desperation, laving over your cunt, red-eyed and teary as hands tug in his hair... if he bought a cock ring for himself and stroked along to the body double's agony, edging until he gets to the part where you come home and let him open...

If he gets hard every time he sees you've texted him a new video, it was just porn.

It's not his fault, either. He told you to stop, and you didn't! In fact, you never responded to any of his texts. Didn't pick up any of his calls.

His calls. He called you. With video, even!

Sure, you ghosted him after the rejection until now, but this was crazy behavior. You were absolutely crazy for him, you literally stalked him for months, and this was him calling you!

Something is off. Gojo works around sorcerers - around crazy people. He knows crazy, and that's what you are, deep down to the core.

Researching him, watching him, looking up everything around him, leaving absolutely no stone unturned in the pursuit of his affections. Honestly it was kinda flattering! Creepy, but flattering.

Point is, you were crazy. fucking crazy. And even if you were completely over him (which, come on, how could you be?), why would you reach out again like this?

Why make such an obvious, desperate bid for his attention and then not accept it when he deigns to give it to you?

And when it came to the videos, they've started to get kind of... worrying.

In the earlier ones, it was obvious you hired some male hooker to dress up as him and boss around. Generic, but hot. Very femdom. He could respect it. Get off to it, even.

The hooker, or escort, or whoever he is - he's convincing. Too convincing. He's obviously happy to be there, even though you seem all to willing to slap him around, chew him up and spit him out, step on his -

Anyways, the point is. The escort had been a willing participant from the start. But you're starting to look... less so.

At first he thought you were just drunk, or high on something. And yeah, it was hot. Seeing you limp and boneless and making low, little noises as his perfect copy folds you over, manipulates you like a doll.

There's an appeal to it, he'll admit. You're smaller than him - the double has a similar frame, all broad, terribly tall, long, muscled limbs that bend you in half and bounce you on his dick like a living fleshlight.

Then the way you cum - you're so unguarded, so open. Face flushed, panting open-mouthed, twitching in the aftershocks as your lover holds you close. Drooling freely over his fingers, his cock.

It's hard not to wonder what it feels like. Being there. Inside you.

You weren't his type before, but he's touched himself so many times to you - and 'him'. You scolding him, punishing him, teaching him.

He's watched you force him to eat you out for hours, and thank you for it. And god if it didn't make him hard.

Gojo can admit, he's a little jealous of the double. What an easy life he has; jerking off with his cock stuck in a ring, waiting for hours for you to come back.

To some people that might sound like agony. To him, it sounds like something to do to himself during missions to make them more fun.

Rile himself up, stick the ring on, fight and kill while he's hard until he can get home and watch, listen, to you coming back and cooing at him before you grant him sweet release.

Suddenly, you're not just hot. You're erotic. Instantly arousing. The sight of you makes him hard and seeing you like this? Undone? Weak and pitiful and clinging to him - god, fuck. It does something to him.

And then there's the way the double looks up into the camera. His eyes are - fuck, they look a lot like his. Could it be some kind of visual effect? He can't tell over a video.

But as they keep coming, Gojo can just tell. There's malice in there. Pure disdain and loathing. The double touches you with hands wide, clawing, like he's making a statement - staking a claim.

...and the he puts together something he should have known since the beginning.

Why weren't you answering him? Why did you keep sending these videos? Why did you call that man "Satoru"?

It all falls into place instantly. How did he not realize sooner? There's only one thing that would prevent you from picking up his calls. A freak like you would never willingly pass up on his attention, but if -

For the first time in years, Satoru Gojo makes a call and tells the Higher Ups he'll be out for the next couple days.

satoru gojo doesn't belong to you. he doesn't even belong to himself.

he's a weapon, a tool, a teacher and guardian - he doesn't have time to be yours, even if he wanted to.

but this one could.

he looks good, for having been grown in a test tube for twenty months.

a clone. your very own personal satoru gojo. just for you and no one else.

he's born in the lab, a fully grown adult, and you teach him everything he needs to know about life.

when he's hungry, you feed him.

when he's cold, you hold him.

when he's bored, you entertain him.

when he's sad, you delight him.

for this satoru gojo, the world begins and ends with you.

he's never known life outside the private lab beneath your home. after weeks of good behavior, you let him sleep with you in your room.

he never says no. doesn't know what it is. you've never told him no (granted, his requests are always vague, and you fulfill them however you please), so it doesn't exist in his mind.

so when you teach him how to make you feel good - guide him to his knees, between your legs, holding his face against your cunt - this satoru gojo learns eagerly, with all the unrestrained passion and dedicated of a virgin with his longtime crush.

the first words you taught him to say were "i love you", after all.

at first, he was sort of like a parrot - repeating after you, confused, hesitant forming words.

but quickly enough, his true nature shone through. even with a limited vocabulary, he would tease - "those are called glasses." "glasses?" "yes - satoru! give them back!" - and his appetite for mischief and self-satisfaction were ever-present.

but even with his nature, there was always nurture to gently adjust him.

you'd leave him alone for hours without explanation, even when he could grasp language enough to understand one. always returning with a treat, with a smile and a kiss.

there was food for him when you were gone, and water. but it's bland, unappetizing stuff. he is satoru, after all. still craving sweets.

you were the only person he's ever interacted with. the only person he ever will.

your presence meant food, companionship, entertainment. your absence meant loneliness, boredom, hunger.

you are everything good in his life. you gave him this life. it's only right that he spends it with you.

it's not that satoru minds, after all. he seems to love eating you out, training session after training session leading him to slide to his knees beside you more often than not. bright blue eyes twinkling up at you while he paws at your waistband.

and you're not a selfish lover, not by any means. once you've conditioned him to only cum when you're present, you're very generous with his orgasms.

it took a while. a specialized device - unremovable cockring - and some porn left around for him to peruse curiously.

but soon enough, you'd caught him, red-faced and stressed, unable to find his release. diligently, over many weeks, you'd taught his body that the only real pleasure was you. your touch, your voice, your love.

this is your satoru gojo. he shouldn't want anything but you. he shouldn't get off to anything but you.

you are his sun and stars, his planet, his gravity holding him to earth, the air he breathes, the life that sustains him, his whole universe.

it's all worth it, to come back to him after an outing. bright-faced and smiling and trembling just a little bit in relief.

when he holds you at night extra tightly, like he's terrified you'll slip out of his arms while he sleeps.

it's intoxicating. euphoric.

you try not to leave too often. but absence makes the heart grow fonder. can't have him taking you for granted.

in fact, that's the only punishment that ever seems to work on him, when he's acting out, and a stern correction doesn't do it.

it's not often, but sometimes he'd whine incessantly about getting his way, as if what he wanted mattered. as if you didn't love him more than anything already. as if you didn't go out of your way to give him everything, including his own life.

maybe he wanted to have sex that day, instead of just masturbating for you. maybe he was getting bored of eating you out for hours. maybe he just wanted to hurry up and cum.

all of these were normal, expected ways for satoru gojo to behave at first. but you'd trained them out of him.

if he was so bored, if he didn't like what you wanted, then he could stay here by himself.

you'd leave discreetly, distracting him with an instruction or an excuse about getting something. and then you'd turn off the breaker so the lights in the basement were out.

and then you'd go. spend hours away from home.

every time you spent a different amount of time away. letting him stew in it. letting him wait for you. wait, and wonder if you were really coming back this time.

it was painful. you didn't create him just to neglect him like this.

but it needs to be done. he had to understand that being without you is utter, abject misery.

this had the side effect of turning him into a clingy menace. which was terribly endearing - he always wanted to have a hand on you, or to sit next to you, or to be touching you somehow.

those beautiful eyes nervously glancing at you every now and then - it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

with him clinging to you, of course, you have to adjust his punishments. if a training session isn't going well, you slip something into his next meal.

when he awakens, he's tied up. all alone in a well-lit, padded room.

by the time you open the door, he's teary-eyed, nose red from sniffling, throat sore from screaming. he leans into your fingers in his hair, closing his eyes, shuddering and sighing in utter bliss.

satoru always behaves better after that. you tell him, calmly, what you hope he'll improve on, and he always does. your clever boy.

your perfect boy. your satoru gojo, homemade, hand-raised, yours and yours alone. happy to be yours.

he's improved so much. he really is nearly perfect.

affectionate - almost overbearingly so, but that suits you. he's attentive, so well in tune with your moods. satoru really is so very observant when he wants to be.

he can make you cum in under thirty seconds - there's your quick learner! you feel like a proud teacher, sometimes.

and he loves you. of course he loves you. you make him feel good, you kiss him goodnight, you always make sure he knows exactly how happy he makes you.

he's not unlike a pet who loves you unconditionally and wants to be with you constantly. a particularly clever pet, even, who sometimes gets... ideas.

what you're working on now is a complicated case. satoru's a healthy young man, and he spends all his time with you, who he's attracted to - so he gets erections fairly often.

your conditioning has led him to expect sexual activity... well, relatively frequently. after all, he can't cum on his own. it doesn't help that he always wants to be touching you, next to you, holding you.

the task now is for him to become aroused only when you are aroused. it'll take time - and patience - and lots and lots of punishments. but smaller ones, easier ones.

you're content with this. perfection is a state of mind, after all. there will always be something to improve on.

if you don't have anything to punish him for, satoru might start to think he's perfect. he might realize that you won't stop loving him, for any reason. he might get sloppy.

what if he thinks he can leave?

it's something that keeps you up at night, sometimes. you try not to let it, really. satoru never falls asleep first. you've never seen him sleep at all outside your arms, actually.

you're particularly tired, this night, though.

satoru's been so good lately, so you'd rewarded him with a new, special experience; making food together.

it had been utterly delightful, so domestic and causal, full of laughter and taste-tests and troubled recipe lookups. Is that what being a couple was supposed to be like?

you think you could get used to that.

you try to say something, but your mouth is especially dry. satoru, the darling creature that he is, has water at the ready for you.

the thanks, too, can't come out of your mouth. your vision is darkening...

"sorry," his lovely voice hums distantly, "not sure about the dosage. i know i'm larger than you, so it should be a bit less..."

the words stand out to you. dosage. a bit less.

but very soon, your world goes dark, and all you hear before that is -

"you're never leaving me again."

In which Satoru Gojo learns exactly what he is to you.

This work is a part of a series! Read the first part here, and the next part here!

tw: explicit sexual content, dubcon. clone!satoru/reader, yandere x yandere. technically everything is consensual but no one here is really sane so it's kinda a wash. deeply unbalanced power dynamics. cloning.

Desensitization.

It's a phenomenon in psychology. A treatment, even - exposure therapy, as it's called.

After all, humans can really get used to anything.

The problem is, Satoru wasn't supposed to get desensitized to punishments.

It's not like they were terrible or anything. You wouldn't do anything truly cruel to him. Just enough for him to learn his lesson, just enough for him to understand.

You could leave him at any time. Everything he had could be taken away in an instant. He should cherish you, adore you, cling to you and live in constant fear of abandonment.

The problem is, Satoru is smart.

And after enough times... he's starting to learn.

No matter if he's drugged, tied up, locked in a padded room, bound and gagged, all while left alone with no word of your return - however much you escalate, Satoru has deduced one crucial fact:

You always come back.

"Hey! At least leave a TV in here or something! I know you're listening."

You nip at your lip, staring at the surveillance screen. It's uncomfortable enough, how certain he is about it. Let alone the fact that he's completely correct.

"I get that you didn't like being woken up like that, but this is just boring."

Boring - that's all your punishments are to him, now. They're supposed to modify his behavior, instill fear. They're supposed to be a threat you can use to make him feel how he should feel about you.

And the great irony is, you didn't dislike how he'd woken you up. His cock buried in your cunt, arms lashed tightly around you. Whispering your name higher and higher with every tight, feverish thrust that inched him closer and closer to the edge. Knocking you into consciousness with a throb of pleasure as he drove into your g-spot with mechanical precision and persistence.

A wicked, sinful part of you shivered in delight that he wanted you so badly. That he couldn't keep his hands off off you.

But if you let one thing pass - if you let him think he can do what he wants - he'll think he can do anything. He'll think that you're here for him, instead of the reality that he was born for you.

"At least get out some whips and chains or something!" Satoru's voice grows nasal and whiny, "This is just sooooo boring."

As if. You're not stupid. He'd enjoy the whips and chains, and how would that be a punishment?

"Pleeeaaaaase? I promise I'll cry and beg for you to stop like a good boy."

Ugh. He probably would, but with that tone in his voice? You suspect he might have to hide a sardonic smile while 'pleading for mercy', if he bothers at all.

And what would be the point if he hid his face while he begged? That's the best part!

"Listen, I know you're bored, too! You're just waiting, counting down the minutes until you can come back and see me again. You want your apology head, right? Let me go, I'll go down on you so good~"

It's by far the worst thing about him. That he's right.

Every time you leave, it's frustrating. You have to count down the minutes. Engage yourself with inane distractions and hobbies.

Trying desperately to forget the fact that a Satoru who loves you, who wants you around, who talks to you and touches you and enjoys you, is just sitting there waiting for you to come back. You can just go and see him whenever you want.

Sometimes you have to distract yourself by pulling up camera feeds of the actual Satoru Gojo. Is this an addiction? Who knows. When you see the original, it's a completely different experience - there's no more yearning, no more of that bone-deep pull and ache in your chest screaming for you to get closer to him.

For all that it's worth now. Somehow, the clone Satoru is behaving so much like the original, the cocky, self-assured, cheeky special grade sorcerer who had once called your heart his own.

And then of course, he had summarily discarded it, with an awkward laugh and an even more awkward rejection.

That's now how this is supposed to go. It isn't how any of this is supposed to be.

It's something that instills no small amount of panic in your heart.

Satoru - your Satoru - is singular in his existence, the only clone you've produced so far. You have a prototype, an alpha version - that one passed away in vitro.

Even once you had the embryo that would become Satoru, you didn't know it would succeed. You were still experimenting; different embryonic fluid mediums, different tissue samples, new techniques - nothing else had worked.

After Satoru had come out as a success, you'd tried to replicate the process that created him, as exactly as possible.

Inside this lab - the same place where your surveillance center is set up - are the results of those attempts.

The urge is there. Deep down. Itching at you.

You did it once, right? You could do it again.

It's funny, after all. How obsessed you were with Gojo before, how utterly devastated you were when he turned you away, the way every part of your being craved him like a drug.

You'd watched him, recorded him, looked up everything about him and related to him. It's not like you don't recognize how insane that all was.

And then suddenly, once you'd decided to clone him, all the feeling was gone. That face, that beautiful face, the one that made your heart skip a beat; even that does nothing for you when you watch Gojo.

Now, you only care about your Satoru.

Your Satoru, who whines and complains when you leave him behind. Who knows that you watch him on cameras. Who promises to make it up to you when he does something bad, because he doesn't feel guilt for disobeying you, not at all.

And why should he? He's Satoru Gojo, cut from the same cloth. He's beautiful and he knows it, knows exactly how much you desire him. He's good at making you feel good, and he knows that too.

Your Satoru has never felt ugly, or undesirable, or unwanted in his entire life, and that's all your fault.

If he knows just how much you want him, what's to stop him from deciding when you get him? From telling you no? From thinking he can decide for himself, want a life outside of you?

You look down at your hands and you realize that you're shaking.

He sounds just like...

"Well, well, look who's finally showing her face! If it isn't my favorite little stalker, in the flesh."

Satoru has no reason to like you other than the simple fact that he's never known anything else. Now he's grown cocky, confident, assured of your love.

"You're not that cute, but honestly, I thought you'd be way uglier. Listen, I know how you feel, so I'll just save us both some time and you some embarrassment, right?"

It makes you want to throw up. A wild, sudden urge to race into that room and slap that wide grin off his face. Choke the teasing words off his throat. Claw at his bare chest, dig your fingers between his ribs and rib his sternum open so you can finally take hold of his heart like you deserve.

Your name sounds off on the monitor. Satoru is calling for you again. "Come on! I know you're listening! Two apology heads! No, make it three - I'll do it until you fall asleep even! Just come in and let me go already!"

So willful. Full of bargaining and spirit and energy.

Untamed. That irresistible, delightful charm that was so innate to Satoru Gojo, the one that drew you in - it's gone too far. You need to do something about it.

You need to take back control.

"So you're finally letting me see what's up here?" Satoru rolls one of his shoulders. Probably stiff from the restraints.

He follows along right behind you, obediently, but that doesn't mean he's loyal. He's curious.

And when you put that curiosity to rest, he'll have more questions. Scarier ones.

You open the door wordlessly, leading him into your lab. Full of screens.

Some of them show your studies, test results, security systems. Others show specific locations, but there's one or two that follow their subject around.

He stares at the screen. Bright blue eyes dilating, focusing -

"Who is that?"

"Satoru Gojo," You respond, sitting down in a chair.

"I'm Satoru -"

"No," Your voice is cool, hardened, "He is Satoru. You were named after him. I took genetic material from him to make you, along with all these others."

"Others..." Satoru doesn't ask, though - his eyes dart around the room. Over the test vials, the vitro chambers, embryos at different stages of development.

"This is also Satoru," you say, striding over one tube. Placing a hand over the glass as you walk across to another, more developed on, "And so is this. You were developed exactly the same way."

You stare at the developing embryo in the chamber as you speak.

"Pure DNA extracted from genetic material taken straight from Satoru Gojo himself. Catalogued, sequenced, replicated. I developed stem cells first, and then an embryonic structure, which I had to grow in one of these vats."

Finally, you raise your eyes up to him. Satoru is still staring at the chamber, at the thing inside it. Eyes flicking over to the screen.

"You're one of many experimental subjects," You say, louder, enough to catch his attention. Locking eyes with him.

"And if you can't serve your purpose, I'll just start over with another one. Again, and again, until I find one that can."

Your gaze is cold, unwavering.

You don't want to start over. You're not even sure if you can.

The samples you're showing him, all your attempts to duplicate what you did with him - none of them were viable.

You want your Satoru, the beautiful, lovable creature right in front of you, to adore you like you adore him.

"My purpose?" He says, almost musing. Licking his lips while he glances at you.

It takes everything in you not to flinch. "You're here for me, Satoru. Not the other way around."

"Oh?" There's a faint smile on his lips, "With everything you have up here, I'd say you're a little bit obsessed with me, actually."

That's the problem with him. Being right. That look of knowing on his face.

"I'm obsessed with Satoru Gojo." Your tone becomes icy. Frosted over. "And you're not the only Satoru Gojo. You weren't even the first."

That gets to him, you think. He keeps looking back at the screen, at Gojo, who looks to be mid-exorcism.

The camera can't capture curses, but the light emitted from his curse technique - Blue - colors his surroundings, and by extension, the lab room.

"He is. That's the original Satoru Gojo, and because he has better things to do," you can't keep the bitterness out of your voice, "I replaced him."

Satoru stares at the image of Gojo, striding around, carefree. Dodging invisible curses, casting Red and Blue like child's play.

His face has lost its expression, all notions of teasing, of playfulness gone. Those too-blue eyes reflect the light of the screens, the test tubes, nearly glowing in the low light. Taking in every ounce of information.

"Satoru," It comes out firmly enough for him to blink, looking back to you. "I need you to understand."

Satoru stares at you. Silent.

It's not like him. Then again, you had just upended his entire existence. Maybe this is what it's like for him, to realize what he is. That you can replace him with an identical copy at any time.

Of course, you can't actually do that. But Satoru doesn't know.

"You were created for me. I can always create another. What will you do, if I no longer want you?" You deliver your question with a heavy, expectant finality.

Even as confident as he is, Satoru doesn't have anything in his life besides you. And you've already replaced one Satoru Gojo.

It shouldn't be an easy bluff for him to call. Even if he does know you far too well.

"What will I do...?" He repeats to himself, quietly, running his eyes back over the rest of the lab in a final sweep before he looks back at you.

And it's piercing. In a way that chills you to the bone.

In a way that makes your heart jump. Painfully. Because he is, after all, still your Satoru.

Slowly, very slowly, a smile lifts up at the edge of his lips. It goes all the way to his eyes, which still reflect the screen light so heavily they looks like they could be glowing.

And what's so special about Satoru Gojo anyways? The way Satoru sees it, there's nothing the original can do that he can't. You shouldn't care about him anymore. You shouldn't care about anything but him.

This work is a part of a series! Read the first part here!

tw: explicit content. dubcon. drugging, captivity. selfcest. feet. yanderes all around. non-consensual cloning.

Gojo has one mission when he gets to you:

Clear his good name and prove to you that the "Satoru Gojo" who'd fooled you was actually a fraud.

Sure, you probably should have known from the beginning, being as obsessed with him as you were, but he had rejected you, and fixations can turn people to dark places.

It was probably all too easy for this phony to march into your life and convince you that all of your dreams had come true; Satoru Gojo loved you after all.

In a way, he feels kind of sorry for you. Really, he was about to break your heart for a second time. It's not even your fault! He himself could admit, the fake is shockingly compelling.

But you'd be devastated, truly. What a shame. To learn that all that love you received was from some stranger, a liar. That the man you desperately adored didn't really want you back.

Man, that's gonna suck for you! He tilts his head back, whistling as the car drives along.

Though he's still not really relationship material, he could probably stick around for that pity fuck. After all, you hadn't been ignoring him on purpose.

No; the reason you were ignoring him was because "he" was telling you to!

It was the perfect cover! If this guy was going to steal his identity, the number one threat to that was him - the real Gojo.

He'd probably intentionally told you to send those videos, only to laugh when you showed him the replies, and then explained that wasn't the "real" him.

The little faker must have even convinced you to keep sending them as a joke.

Then, if Gojo tried to tell you the truth, you'd just brush it off. And if he got pissed off from your messages, he might refuse to tell you at all - a win-win for the fake.

Smart. Of course, he'd probably have to be a little smart to fool you in the first place; his intelligence was one of his best traits. No way you'd mistake someone for him without it.

The car rolls up to your weirdly secluded, distant home. Kinda a pain to get to, honestly.

But it's worth it. Because if Gojo knows anything about that fake... he's probably watching right now. Who wouldn't, when Satoru Gojo was involved?

He steps out, taking time to stretch, let out a deep breath. A wide smile on his face as he stalks forward.

This is going to be fun.

What the fuck was this clown doing on your doorstep?

Satoru squints at the porch camera. Mostly just in annoyance, because he doesn't need to squint - six eyes and all.

Even then, it's hard to believe.

Not that Gojo was jealous and wanted a piece of you, now that he realized that he was missing out. That went without saying.

No, Satoru is shocked that he has the audacity to show up on your doorstep after turning you away. Rejecting you. Like he was drowning in genuine human connections and could afford to toss one out... ugh.

Even thinking about this guy feels gross.

"Go away."

The PA system is talking... in his voice. Which could be the phony, but also, you were probably obsessed with him enough to make a PA system that spoke exclusively in his voice.

Heh. You probably had it talk you through touching yourself, too, at least before the faker came around -

"So you're deaf, but I know you're not blind. DOOR IS CLOSED. GO AWAY."

A frown. "Well, that's not very nice of you."

"Oh, so you can speak? Well, shut up and leave. Loser."

Wait, no. No way this creep is calling him a loser.

"You want me gone that bad, huh?" Gojo slinks up to the doorway carelessly, ready to blast the handle open, "Gosh, must have something you reeeeaaaaally wanna hide, huh?"

"Typical." The PA system complains while he busts the door down, "Self-centered asshole doesn't know when he's not wanted. But that's just another day for you, isn't it?"

He pauses. "Wow. You know a lot about me. I didn't know I had two stalkers on board~"

There's an audible snort. "This is why you have no friends."

"I have tons of friends!" Comes Gojo's protest as he glances around the living room.

"Your students aren't friends, and they don't like you."

"Yuji likes me," Gojo strides quickly down the hallway, glaring with his six eyes for signs of life in the building, cursed energy.

"Yuji likes everyone. You also have no life."

The grin on his face turns sharp, wicked. "I have more of a life than you do. Taking on someone else's identity. Pretty scummy way of getting a girl's heart, don't you think?"

There's a pause - it's good to know he's shocked the phony into silence.

"You..."

Closer, now. He can see it! The cursed energy is concentrated, just inside this room -

And it's -

It's -

Him.

It's him. It's - it's Satoru Gojo, staring right back at him. The six eyes in the mirror. Only it's not a mirror, but a real, living person.

This is where Gojo decides he must be in a dream. Or a domain. Maybe you activated a secret curse technique? And this is a manifestation of your desire for him?

"...even hear me. Hello? HELLO? Stop staring and get the hell out of here. You'll wake her up."

Huh.

It's like he's talking to himself. It's him.

"How are you..." He trails off, tugging down the blindfold as he gesturing to the man across from him, "Your eyes. You have my eyes."

"You have my eyes, actually," Satoru answers without missing a beat, "I was here first."

Of course, he absolutely was not, but Gojo doesn't know that.

Gojo is pretty sure this guy is lying.

"Here first? Like, born first?" He glances down, catching you on the sofa, laying down, head in the other-Satoru's lap. "I got a twin brother I don't know about?"

No way the Gojo clan would be able to shut up and keep a secret like that to themselves. And even if they could, Gojo wouldn't be a little brother. He'd be the older one.

"Sure," Satoru says, in a hushed tone, with marked annoyance, "Now shut up and get out of your big brother's room. She's sleeping."

And you are. But from what he can see inside your brain activity, it's not normal sleep.

"Yeah, sure. Sleeping." His voice lowers. Cools. "Are you that desperate for my leftovers? Leave her alone."

And it is piercing, the glare that hits him. Six eyes going straight through him like an icicle. His own face twisted in an anger he doesn't think he's ever seen -

It's hot. Super hot. And unsettling, and strange, and he is so, so hard right now.

"Why don't you leave her alone?" Satoru hisses as you stir, "You're so jealous you had to come here?"

"Mmm..." Your eyes flick open, and Satoru's attention is immediately ripped off him.

He brushes your hair away from your eyes, leaning in to kiss your temple with a quiet, soothing hum.

Gojo's lips purse. All those videos; this guy fucking you, eating you out, ravishing you like a starving monster, using you like a fleshlight - and none of it had made him feel like this.

Something churns in his stomach. "Answer the question. What did you do to her? What did you tell her?"

"I love you," Satoru says, still staring at your sleepy-eyed face, and Gojo feels his stomach twist.

He stares, frozen in place. Satoru doesn't even look up at him.

"...Sa...toru...?" You mumble weakly, head falling to the side as if just that phrase was too taxing for you.

"Mmm-hmm, it's me!" Satoru smiles, a warm, fond look that goes all the way to his eyes. "I'm right here, love."

Creepy. The way he strokes your hair, holds you, dotes on you like you're some kind of pet. You're barely dressed, but not in anything erotic - just a large T-shirt. Probably one of his.

It's nauseating. Intimate. Domestic.

He's throbbing.

The worst part is, Gojo doesn't know if he's jealous of him - or you.

Because fuck, that smile looks good on his face. Features soft, glowing like a sunset, faint pink dusting his cheeks. Even the six eyes look like an ocean of warmth, affection, dripping down onto you. Those hands are fine, and cupping your face like that makes them appear even larger. Makes you look smaller.

And you're so cute like this. All tiny, curled up underneath him. He'd seen you commanding, cool, demanding, in the throes of pleasure, and unraveling; delicious, every time.

Not like this. Curled up and docile, nuzzling into his touch like a sleepy kitten. Leaning into him like an anchor, seeking out contact as naturally as you breathe. He feels sick with want.

"What did you do to her?" He says. The words sound out of place in this room, unwelcome in this sanctuary, "Drugs? Cursed energy?"

"Eh. Little bit of column A, little bit of column B. What's it to you?" Those eyes gleam quickly up at him, "This is your leftovers, right?"

"Please. She's clearly not over me if she's sending me your little sex tapes." Gojo takes a step closer, pulse soaring in his ears. "And you didn't answer my other question. What did you tell her?"

Satoru glares. "So you are deaf. You were right there when I said it. I love you."

It's so strange. His chest twists, hearing the words in his voice.

...he's never heard those words in his voice, has he?

"Not what I meant," Gojo skips over the issue entirely, "Did she find out that you're not me? Is that why you had to drug her?"

Satoru blinks his big blue eyes.

Silence.

He blinks again.

"You think-" A hand reaches up to Satoru's shirt, tugging, and he's looking down again, "Awh, what is it, sweetie?"

"Would you answer the damn-"

"Shut up!" Satoru snaps, pulling you carefully to sit up on his lap.

You fall against his chest limply, secured by an arm around your waist. Head tucked under his chin.

"You thirsty? Hungry? Wanna cum, baby? Just say the word." Satoru isn't even looking at him.

It's just - it's so annoying. This little shit sitting here like nothing's wrong, like he hasn't stolen Gojo's entire appearance and identity just to get with you.

He's got the fucking six eyes, and he can heal other people with reverse curse technique, and this is what he does? Fusses over you like a mother hen? Like you're the center of his world?

"You're disgusting," Gojo spits, surprised by his own vehemence. "Let her go."

You whimper and Satoru squeezes you.

Gojo watches; in horror, fascination, frozen to his spot as he watches Satoru's arm reach down, rolling up your shirt -

You're not wearing anything under there.

"Mmmhm..." You moan, lashes fluttering. Reaching up to grasp Satoru's muscled arm, weaky, while you writhe.

The sound sends tremors down his back, heat pooling in his gut.

Satoru meets his gaze with a low, knowing smirk. "Don't think she wants me to."

Gojo's feet take him another step closer. He's maybe one step away from you; two, max.

"And for the record, she's completely over you. I thought the videos would be evidence enough of that," Satoru shifts you in his lap, tugging your shirt up enough to bare your breasts, your cunt.

His hands roam your chest - they look so big on you, so wide, grasping, groping playfully over your torso, your breasts, drawing little noises out from you as you squirm fruitlessly in his lap.

His legs keep yours open. Wide.

It's dripping. Right in front of him. He feels like a deer in headlights, pinned in place at the sight of his own longer fingers plunging into your wet -

"But if you needed to see it in person so badly," Satoru drawls, and because he's closer, it's louder, lower, "Knock yourself out."

Those eyes meet him - his eyes - deep blue, intent, full of challenge -

Gojo lunges, driving his lips against Satoru's, shoving him against the sofa. You yelp, pinned between them, before Satoru pulls you closer with a hiss as he pulls away.

"The fuck are you doing?!" He glares - but his cheeks are dusted pink.

You squirm deliciously, and Gojo catches Satoru shifting behind you.

Straddling you, shamelessly, he grinds his bulge right up against you, and you moan, clenching on Satoru's fingers. He brushes Satoru's arm with his dick, too - heh. Let him see what he's packing.

Gojo doesn't tear his eyes away from Satoru's as he closes in on you, kissing at your cheek softly, "Is that true, baby?" He murmurs, sneaking a hand up along your torso to squeeze an exposed breast, "You're over me?"

Satoru's arm - the one that isn't fingering you - shoves at him, but Gojo doesn't budge.

"Come oooooon," He croons, nuzzling into your cheek as he holds his gaze, "You're not afraid of a little healthy competition. Are you?"

Close, closer - until their noses nearly touch. Until Satoru can see his eyes glitter with challenge.

"As if," Satoru rises to the bait, just like he would in his place. "I'm worried you don't know how to touch a woman. Seriously, not sure if you ever have."

He doesn't hesitate. He reaches straight for Satoru's dick - oh, it's long, hard, just as proud and pretty as in all the videos.

Just like his. Twitching as he tightens his grip.

The grunt he makes, face wincing in pleasure-pain; it's a familiar feeling to him, too.

"Awh, worried about little old me?" His smile bares teeth, "You're too kind."

He squeezes, drawing his hand up along Satoru's dick, watching his own handsome reflection tense in what he knows is mounting pleasure, a heady throb in his gut that always surges as he squeezes tighter at the shaft.

"Straight for the dick? Guess that's the only thing straight about you. Or maybe you're just that self-obsessed," Satoru taunts, as if his own dick isn't pulsing at a touch so like his own. "Just keep your hands off her."

And that last demand sends his gut churning. Something in him is enflamed.

He burns for it, for Satoru in front of him, possessive and beautiful, for you, delicate and treasured, for this thing between the two of you that magnetizes Satoru to your side and turns you to putty in his arms.

He wants. He wants he wants he wants and Satoru Gojo is not a man accustomed to being denied.

"Nah," Gojo nuzzles into your neck, sucking, nipping, watching Satoru's eyes linger hatefully on the mark he leaves, "I don't think I will."

After all, he's got to prove him wrong, right?

You're barely conscious most times Satoru wakes you.

It's not bad. At least you don't think it is, with your limited capacity to think.

The feeling is similar to being very sleepy, or very drunk. Half-stuck in a dream, only vaguely aware of your surroundings and what's going on.

But it doesn't matter, because Satoru is a diligent nursemaid. When he wants to be, anyways. When you need him to.

He brings you food, water. Feeds you, helps you sit up and drink. Distantly, you realize everything is probably laced, but it's all properly dosed, you're sure.

Otherwise you wouldn't be able to think this much. In these hazy moments when you can recognize what's happening.

So when you see another Satoru in the room, despite the warm body against your own, the breath on your neck, the arm around your waist - you aren't immediately worried.

Now, though?

Now you're a little bit worried.

"Who..." Your question falls seemingly on deaf ears as Gojo tilts your head to the side, sucking a mark into your neck.

It doesn't hurt, but Satoru's fingers curl tight inside you, his thumb brushing your clit, and you whine.

"Shhh, baby," Satoru murmurs from behind you, into your ear, "You worry too much. Don't worry, just sit back and enjoy."

"Oh, so now she's your pillow princess?" Gojo hums, "Big change from being her little slut locked up in a cock cage."

A scoff, cool against the saliva-slick skin on your neck, "Jealous much? I have someone who wants to make me feel good."

Satoru's fingers slip out of you, and you let out a breath, reaching up with your arms against the chest in front of you.

"Bet she wants to make me feel good, too," Pressing closer to you, "Bet she couldn't even tell the difference."

His chest is large, firm against your hands. The muscles are more defined, larger - even with the same genetics, Satoru doesn't get the exercise Gojo does - but you barely notice.

"Course she can't. She could hardly tell you her own name - not that you deserve to say it." And then a groan, "F-fuck. Let go of my dick already, you creep."

"Why, so you can fuck her?" A snicker, "You act so sweet on her, but you're really just using her to get off, yeah?"

"The fuck would you know about acting sweet? Have you ever told anyone you love them?"

There's a pause, there, where you feel the heat growing restlessly around you. Dazed, heated.

"Satoru...?" You mumble, head tilting to the side, cheek rubbing into the familiar cloud of white hair.

"...See? No difference." Gojo lifts his head, handsome face coming up to meet yours, "I'm just as good as him, right baby?"

His words are lost on you. All you can do is lean in for a kiss, lashes lowered, and feel his lips move against yours.

"Like I said," Arms, tighten around you, "Doesn't mean anything. You couldn't give her what she needed, and now you're nursing your wounded ego because I came around and did it better."

"You think?" All you catch is the sparkle of those crystal blue eyes.

He pulls away, tongue sticking out, lips still slick with saliva threading between your mouths.

Gojo's eyes catch Satoru's. "Bet I can make her cum with my mouth before you can with your dick."

"Sure, give yourself the biggest advantage," Satoru sneers, "Should I give you a ten minute head start, too, so you can find the clit first?"

Gojo slinks backwards, falling to his knees.

From your perspective, all you see is Satoru backing away from you - you whimper, reaching out weakly, voice low and longing.

It feels like a knife to his chest, looking at your face. The naked despair, the raw desire to have him back in your arms -

But it's only a moment before Satoru reassures you, kisses your cheek. Melting into his embrace comes naturally, relaxing as soon as you know your love has not left you.

It's as if you have to be touching him at all times. Like you need him the way you need air. It's cringey, codependent, but Gojo supposes that's the kind of sappy unrealistic stuff you're into.

He puts a hand on either of Satoru's knees, spreading his legs and yours.

"Up you go, baby," Satoru hums as he lifts you, and your feel his cock slip underneath your ass as he pulls you flush against his chest.

He bites his lip as Gojo snatches his cock without hesitation, guiding the head of it to slip past your entrance with a smirk.

"Could do both of you at once," He crows, "Your dick sure wasn't complaining about my touch."

And he knows exactly how to touch - to trace that weeping head with his thumb to get precum pearling at the tip, all mottled red and purple as it throbs in his hand.

"What can I say," Satoru shoots back, "You're obviously an expert. You and your hand must be so happy together."

Gojo fists his hand around his dick with a mean smile, clenching hard as he smirks up at him. Satoru bites his lip and holds you tighter.

"Baby," Satoru whispers, tilting your face to look back at him, "Cum with me, yeah? I'll tell you when, and you just gotta let go then."

"Oh, now you think she's gonna be the trained whore?" Gojo drawls, pressing Satoru's dick against your cunt. Still not inside, but enough to make you moan while Satoru hisses.

"Like you can say that," He grinds out, "You don't know anything about her."

"I saw your little videos," His eyes twinkle from between Satoru's legs; how he hates that face... but fuck if he's gorgeous, "You spoil her. Greedy little thing. She's used to getting whatever she wants from you."

Gojo's face slides up, up your thigh.

"Yeah she is, I do it on purpose. Cause I can." Satoru sticks his tongue out, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Unlike you."

Closing in on your cunt, on his cock, Gojo licks a line up Satoru's dick, enough to make him tense behind you.

"Yeah? You think so?" He suckles briefly at the trickle of cum at the head of Satoru's cock, making eye contact while he does. Unfliching.

And fuck, he looks good sucking dick. Satoru kinda wishes you had one, now... ooooh. Maybe a strap-on? Even more fun.

A slap on your thigh tugs his attention right back to the matter at hand.

"Don't make her wait any longer," Satoru lays a kiss by your temple, and you hum, "Or you can disappoint her with your shitty head game, and then put it in. Up to you, I guess."

"Shitty head game?" Hands guide his dick towards your entrance, as if he'd been waiting for the challenge.

A strangled moan escapes him as he slips into you, rutting his hips up. Open, shameless, because you're just that good. All wet and hot and clenching around him like your cunt can't stand to see him go.

It feels like he just belongs inside you. His hands reflexively trace over your cunt, your clit, where Gojo slaps them away.

"Hey, hey, no sabotage." If nothing else, Gojo does have sharp eyes.

He darts to the crest of your folds, right where Satoru's fingers had traced, opening his mouth over it.

At first he drools, taking in your scent. Those videos - the ones of your pet lookalike eating you out for hours, a hand in his hair like a leash.

Lapping, whining, drooling over you like a trained dog. Just the memory makes his dick throb. Mouth water.

Gojo spreads his mouth wide like he's seen, drawing his tongue over Satoru's plunging cock, up towards the swollen bud that seems to pulse against his teeth.

Careful, boy. Don't bite. The memory sends his hands clenching at your thighs as he devours you.

His mouth is so wet and warm it feels like it's melting over you, candle wax pressing hot into your clit as your walls stretch and stretch.

Dizzying. It's all so much, all heat swirling around you, inside you. Pleasure roils heavy, weighted, dragging you along in the surge of sensation.

He licks at your clit, all soft and perfect and it just swells like water against a dam, cresting to meet the tip of his tongue pressing into you-

"Shh, baby, not yet," Hands on your jaw, large, gentle, turning your head, "Look at me, hm?"

You do, helplessly, with a whimper, bucking into the mouth and the cock that have your insides churning.

Eyes. Pretty, pretty, the bluest eyes. "S-sa- ah - Satoru?" It comes out as a whimper, or maybe a plea, as you stare, enraptured.

He smiles and it's an instant reaction, a flutter in your chest that makes you squeeze around him.

Whatever he wanted to say is lost to a gasp, to the overwhelming embrace of your walls against him.

Satoru groans, and then he feels a wet, burning line trail up his dick as he pulls it out to drive into you again. Fuck, he's close.

"Lost all your endurance already, huh?" Gojo says, casually, mouth right next to Satoru's dick like he's having a fucking conversation with it. "Loser. It hasn't been long and you're about to bust a nut already."

And damn, he might be. There's something enrapturing about seeing his own face flushed and smug and nuzzling up to his cock like a hungry slut.

He clutches you like a living, breathing lifeline, nuzzles into your neck like it can protect him from the nasty whore's mean words.

"Didn't take long, did it? You lost all the patience she painstakingly trained into you as soon as you got the chance to stick it in whenever."

Satoru must have something in common with the dirty, filthy slut he was cloned from, because those teasing words has his cock pulsing, heat building as he plunges back into the safe haven of your cunt.

Gojo watches from below, mouth gaping wide open over Satoru's cock as it drives in, out, in, out again. Breath hot over your clit, nudging it with his nose until you whine again.

Your eyes flick away from Satoru - and over to him - the same face.

You reach out a hand to pet his hair. Soft, fluffy; he rubs his head into your touch. Breath hot on where your bodies join.

"Hnnngh," His cock is straining, throbbing against the front of his pants; Gojo pulls away, lips still sticky.

Resting his head on your knee, he looks up at you - both of you - with big, wide eyes. A pout on his lip.

"Come oooon," He holds your leg, "Help a guy out, yeah?"

"You still haven't made her cum yet. Do you really wanna make it harder for yourself?"

His grin bares teeth. "Yup."

Somehow, though, he stares a moment too long into Gojo's eyes, into that flushed and fiendish face looking back up with him with barely contained need and hunger.

Satoru shifts your leg, "Come on, baby, like this-"

And soon he's groaning, his tall, lanky form jerking as your foot presses against the bulge in his pants. Satoru's foot guides yours down, down, where he grinds against it.

Gojo falls back into your joined sexes, moaning, panting, slobbering all over you both.

The original Satoru Gojo sure was a fucking whore. No wonder you were so anxious; this guy had no sense of shame, and probably no loyalty, either.

Your hands are still buried in his hair as he ravages your sex. It's so stimulating; the press of your foot down on his screaming erection, the salt of your slick on his tongue, the delicious friction of Satoru's dick pumping in and out - faster, now.

He widens his mouth to cover where his dick slides into you, sucking at the heated shaft as he purses his lips over your poor, tender bud.

"F-fuck," Your voice is broken in your throat, heart racing, it just feels so good, pleasure surging from your tightly wound core, "S-satoru-"

Satoru feels you clenching and squeezes for dear life, "Come on - you can hold - hold it-"

But the words escape him; as he, too, winces, choking on his own pleasure. Muscled abs clench behind you as he finally thrusts home, burying his face in your neck and biting down.

Liquid heat surges inside you and you wail; you feel yourself clamp down, waves of pleasure rushing in as you milk him.

Fingers dig into Gojo's hair and then the pressure on his dick increases. It's so fucking hard, swollen, pulsing against the force against it until it -

"Hnnngh," The sigh escapes him, ghosting over the burning, slick skin of your cunt and the dick embedded in it.

He mouths over it lazily. Tasting your shared cum as the afterglow bubbles through him.

You're glassy-eyed, panting; Gojo watches the mesmerizing rise and fall of your bared breasts. They're marked red, but he can't tell his handprints from Satoru's.

Fuck, you really are pretty. A vision, really, in this state.

Satoru behind you is no less so, all pink and flushed and lovestruck in the comedown. His eyes haven't left you for the last few minutes, but they dart towards Gojo has he slowly begins to recover. As brilliant and blue as his own.

He could almost get hard again just at the sight. If the stupid body double starts mouthing off again, he may anyways.

"That was totally me, by the way." Eh. Never mind.

When he looks up again, he sees your neck, bruised up where he'd sucked a mark earlier. It's darker, now. Heavier.

"You're crazy," He lays a hand on your thigh, shaking gently, "I was the one who got her off. Here, we'll even ask her."

"Mmm..." You stir, slumping back onto Satoru, whose arms wrap around your chest and tug you flush against him.

"Ignore him, baby," Satoru kisses up the other side of your neck, sucking a hickey or two as he goes, "You don't need that stupid prick."

"Lucky her," Gojo hums, "I'm here anyways. I didn't see you complaining either, when I had my mouth on you."

A kick of his foot - and Satoru discovers the bulge just underneath his foot had softened. When Gojo pulls away, there's a wet stain on the front of his pants. Satoru snorts.

"You seriously just got off to sucking us both off?"

"Like you wouldn't have gotten off to the same thing."

"Yeah, but only cause of her."

Discreetly, Gojo gives your leg another shake. Your straighten, slightly, and look over at him.

"Satoru?" Your voice is clearer, now, recognition lighting up in your eyes.

"A little familiar, but I guess I did have my mouth on your pussy just a couple minutes ago," He smiles that charming smile you love so much.

But the feeling of warmth, of security, the fine muscled form behind you, the soft hair against your cheek and the mouth that sucks and gnaws mindlessly at your neck; it's unmistakably your Satoru.

There's... only one other person it can be.

"Gojo?" You squint, and he laughs.

"Bingo!" He flops down on the couch, laying his head comfortably in your lap.

Satoru groans, half-heartedly shoving him away, but Gojo's already snuggling up to you.

You stare at Gojo silently, unblinking. He catches your gaze, smiling back, winking, even, despite your expression not changing.

"Aren't you... angry with me?" You say, slowly, as the pounding in your head recedes.

Gojo tilts his head to the side. "Why would I be angry? You weren't the one sending the videos?"

"What videos?" You frown, "And no, I mean... you know." You gesture to Satoru. "The clone."

tw: implied sexual content, unbalanced dynamics, satoru is a clone, the original gojo did not give his permission for this, you are in a relationship with the clone you created, it's weird but you do both enthusiastically consent

Satoru had to admit - he was surprised when he found out he was a clone.

It's not something he'd ever suspected. Who would? He'd put together that what was happening between you and him wasn't normal, but it never crossed his mind there was another version of him running around somewhere.

The information doesn't really change anything, either. Satoru doubts that you realize this, but he's already put most of it together. The training, the conditioning.

You need him to feel scared when you're away, to be ecstatic whenever you return. You need him to feel incomplete without you. You need him to need you.

It's your form of love; control. Molding him to perfection, to fit into you in all the right places, support you wherever you're weak, supply you with all the love you crave.

If that's what you need, it's nothing. He'll do it all happily. Be it all, just for you, the perfect partner that you're teaching him to be. He's nothing if not a quick study.

This makes him think of this one moment you'd shared, not too long ago.

You'd been cooking for him, making breakfast - you still didn't allow him to handle certain utensils, which he found very cute.

(Satoru doesn't need a weapon to hurt you, or himself. But he wouldn't do that, because it would make you sad.)

Pancakes - with chocolate chips, of course - had been on the menu, and he'd watched from behind you, chin on your shoulder, trying to sneak his arms around your waist while you cooked.

You shook him off, complaining about the heat, the danger of the tools, but not before he won a fond smile and soft kiss on the cheek.

(He knows exactly what to do to make you feel good, and he's proud of it.)

The first pancake smelled amazing - but it was a bit misshapen, the color uneven. He'd thought it looked great, of course; it was the first he'd ever seen. And you made it for him. What could be better?

"No, Satoru," You'd laughed, swatting his hand away. "You'll see. The first one always comes out wrong. The next one will be just right."

And it was. He hadn't known how ugly and unseemly that first one had been, until he'd set eyes on the perfect, second attempt.

Looking at the screen, a frown on his face, Satoru Gojo (the superior edition) can tell that this is the case here.

He's - what even is that outfit? All black, some kind of tracksuit? Why does he wear the blindfold? Are their eyes the same?

Satoru had long since realized that he could see the world in ways that you couldn't, but it had never bothered him.

Apparently, this older version was not of the same opinion. His style was nonexistent. He slouched and yawned and slunk around like some kind of lazy teenager. Spent all his time exorcizing curses - with sloppy form, too.

Sometimes he forms Hollow Purple by combining Red and Blue separately instead of manifesting both at once; sooooo inefficient. It's obvious he's showing off, even with no one watching.

Plus, he sucks as a teacher. Satoru cringes every time he sees his "original" interact with his students.

Like, seriously? He makes the kid watch movies? Sends them directly into combat with no supervision? Regularly runs off to other countries to do dumb exorcism missions instead of taking care of his own kids?

His love life is predictably non-existent, but it's hard to tell if it's because of his obnoxious personality or if he's just intentionally turning everyone off.

What a loser. Satoru concludes after a few healthy days of intensive stalking; the original Satoru Gojo was a bust.

Or maybe just "Gojo". It's not like anyone calls him by his first name, anyways. He's just a curse-killing machine to them.

Even you don't refer to him as Satoru in your notes. He is "Satoru", and the man in the black uniform is "Gojo".

Personally, he doesn't think he should be called Gojo at all. Satoru doesn't want the pretentious clan legacy or the fake prestige - what a bore. He should have your name, your family name.

You made him, you love him. This Satoru should belong to you, and that Gojo can belong to the world.

In a way, he almost feels sorry for the guy. Satoru was born with the same magnificent talent, beauty, skill.

But while Gojo was born to be a sorcerer, Satoru was born to be loved. The man in the surveillance footage wasn't meant to be kept and cherished. He probably didn't even know what love was. Satoru bets this fool couldn't make you feel good if he tried.

That's why you had to make him. The better version. New and improved.

Created and nurtured by your devoted hands. All the love in your eyes, the singular obsession that you seem to think he hasn't noticed.

It's okay. He's obsessed with you, too.

He's starting to get impatient, though. Anyone would.

Even the tamest dog would snap it left alone too long. It's not his fault. You fed him and abandoned him over and over, and now he can't help when he drools, or gets hard, or has adrenaline spiking through his veins so fierce he has to stop himself from stretching the space between you and the door into a vast, yawning chasm of infinity so you never ever leave -

profoundly jealous. next question.

in all seriousness... gege literally said that if gojo weren't a sorcerer, he'd be a swallow (a mooch off older women). canon gojo made digimon references, loves sweets and travels out of his way for them, hangs out with kids all day, and deeply misses his best friend and the life he had in his youth.

he gets four hours of sleep a night, works constantly, has no close friends or family, and the entire world (including the kids he spends most of his time with) is desperately relying on him for their physical safety.

so yes. he would be very jealous of the clone. why does the clone get his body, his name, his starstruck admirer, but none of his responsibilities?

the clone gets to be satoru gojo without being raised as a living weapon. the clone only exists to love and be loved. the clone didn't have to befriend suguru only to be left behind.

he never experienced being abandoned in the crumbling mess of jujutsu society with the fleeting resolution to at least try and make something better of it for everyone who came after him.

the clone went through none of the suffering and struggle that he did, has none of the burdens, and yet he just gets to live the charmed life. satoru gojo the clone never has to worry about being abandoned - you love him more than anything. the real satoru gojo was discarded by his best friend to chase delusions of mass murder.

in fairness i honestly think he'd be into it in a kinky way, too. clone gojo, it's hinted, has his dominant/assertive moments and streaks, but primarily he's not unlike a sex slave or a pet, and gojo would be super duper into that. put him on his knees and slap him around. train him right.

it's a huge turn on, it's something he never gets to experience, and being able to be vulnerable with someone like that is something gojo would treasure... but unlike the clone, he can't afford such luxuries.

Try to kill the original gojo out of jealousy

Kidnap gojo and hand him over to reader

Impersonate gojo and cause chaos

Talk to gojo and ally with him for some macabre purpose that won't benefit reader but will benefit clone! gojo

Try to kill the original gojo out of jealousy

"Excuse me?" Satoru tilts his face down, looking at you with glittering eyes over his dark shades, "You think I care that much about some loser with no friends who spends all his time working and making an ass of himself? Get a grip. What is there for me to be jealous over?"

Kidnap gojo and hand him over to reader

"Uh, no thanks. As far as I know, he hasn't known the touch of a woman in...." He fakes a pensive expression, "Ever? You're cute, babe, but I know you don't want him anymore. Why would you when you have me?"

Impersonate gojo and cause chaos

"I meaaaaan..." He drawls, leaning back with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of him, "Is it really impersonation if I'm actually Satoru Gojo?"

He tils his head to the side, stretching out his neck before returning to his normal position. "But honestly, that'd be such a pain. What if people ask me to do his job? I don't work for free. I don't work at all unless it's between your legs." Satoru finishes with a wink.

Talk to gojo and ally with him for some macabre purpose that won't benefit reader but will benefit clone! gojo

"Listen, I get where you're coming from here. I'm an intimidating guy, right? Inscrutable. Mysterious. It's very sexy. Don't laugh, I know you think I'm sexy."

Slouching in the chair with a pout, Satoru sighs contemplatively.

"But seriously, why would I want to ally with him? What would it get me that I don't already have? And even then, would it be worth the inconvenience of holding a conversation with him? Seriously, there's a reason he has no friends."

He shakes his head, "I love you, babe, but you have no taste. Present company excluded, of course."