Archive of Our Own

Sure, he likes the press fawning over him, the people infatuated after him, telling him how much they love him—Robin Hood! You're the hope of Tokyo, no, all of Japan! and being invited on talk shows for them to shower him with his heroics and all that—but sometimes it just fucking sucks. First of all, it doesn't pay much—villains never pay for city infrastructure damage, while heroes always has the blame chasing after them. All those huge donations by charitable companies barely leaves his tuition fees after covering all the technical aspects of being a hero. Second, it makes propositioning him really easy—villains would far often demand something from him or the government by keeping some group of people hostage and he'd need to sit there to hear the bullshit they spew, some would even dare to proposition him sexually.

Rising to the top floor of a massive skyscraper in a glass elevator owned by Joker is like a slap in the face in regards to both.

The deal between Joker and he has been going on for six months now, if you let me do anything to you once a week, I'll minimize the lives lost in return. Akechi Goro, unfortunate hero Robin Hood with his strings pulled by stupid, idealistic government employees, had been given no choice but to accept—it's a good opportunity, Akechi-kun, the strategist team leader had said excitedly, Joker has never taken a particular interest in another person before. Perhaps you can get under his skin and figure out his identity while he thinks he has the upper hand. Considering that after six months he's still going, even with the information he offers them they're no closer to figuring who this guy is. Maybe I'll figure out his identity before others first if I can stop sucking his dick, Goro thinks, internally rolling his eyes.

To his despair, his luck, Goro could never decide—what started out as Goro prostituting himself for lives has turned into something more over the course of this half year. Joker doesn't think of him as a responsible hero, Joker thinks of him as a convenient cock sleeve he can press against any available surface to warm his dick in. There's something... freeing about that, not having to make the crucial decisions in a split second and having its weight chaining down his exhausted heart, for once nobody ever expecting anything from him. Maybe it's some twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome taking form, but Joker is truly one of the two people who doesn't see him as a cape-adorned flashy unbreakable hero, which makes him invaluable. The only other person who sees past his act is his boyfriend, his heart does a little flip-flop at the thought of Akira, they're really dating now—

The elevator dings.

"This way," a security guard greets him gruffly as the door slides open, and Goro wordlessly follows him across the capacious, unlit corridor until they get to a massive door at the end. The gate automatically slides open when Goro steps forwards and glances up at the security light and the guard slinks away back into the darkness as Goro himself steps into the light.

At least, it is lighter. the room he steps into isn't exactly well-litten either, only by the neon lights of Tokyo's lively night sparks leaking through the glass wall opposing the door Goro came in through. For a spacious room, there is nothing in the huge office sans a fancy wooden table placed right in front of the wall facing the door. A masked, hooded figure sits majestically behind it, fingers rolling a fountain pen, his aura filling the extensive room despite being such a small part of it.

"Eight P.M. Always frustratingly on time as always, Robin," the voice behind the leather chair drawls as a kitten dashes from behind the table and instantly rushes out of the room, brushing past Goro in a hurry to exit. It's a vast, vacant room; considering how much a sentimentalist Joker is known to be, with his sheer attachment to his cat, Goro knows this is only a temporary base. A gift, perhaps, from Noir for his hard work. What is striking about this place is that one side of the room is completely glass, showing the breathtaking night view of Tokyo.

"And you're infuriatingly bothersome as always, Joker," Goro quips back solely because this is the only moment when he can. While they're playing, Joker tends to be intolerant of any sort of attitude coming from him, punishing him ruthlessly even for a stray comment.

As of now, Joker only smiles devilishly at his words, the eyes sharpening behind the mask. "I should have you whipped for that."

Goro merely drops his voice and looks up, not backing off. "Oh, is that a promise?"

What they had between them isn't love. It isn't simply hate, either—at the very least, Joker lusts for him and Goro's learned to rely on him in a strange, distorted way. In a way, it's fucking miserable that one of the very few person he can rely on is his rival who threatened a massacre to bed him, but that is often the life of a hero—people are too interested in his glamorous, heroic side that they forget he's still human—that he's still nothing but a college student who has a fuck load of debt to pay off.

Joker's gaze turns hungry as his crimson gloves carefully outline the edges of his blade, his smile twisting into something even more devious. "Be careful there, little birdie, other people may think you like sleeping with me."

Akechi doesn't respond to that. Merely stays there, alternating balancing his weight on his two legs, a polite smile on his face. "My opinion on this is irrelevant. We have a deal, and as a hero, it is my duty to do whatever is necessary to keep this city safe."

"Such a magnificent and regal knight," Joker murmurs, sliding off his chair like a snake and slathering forward until they're face-to-face. Despite the near identical height between them, Joker easily looms over him, his blood-tinted black orbs tearing apart his skin like it's wrapping paper to reach into his soul, twisting that part of him that makes him all needy and wobbly in his legs. "You act like such a valiant hero when you're here to whore yourself out to a villain that you call a rival."

He tilts his head softly. "You're the one who threatened murder until I gave in." 

"Six months, has it been?" Joker hums as he takes a deadly grip on Goro's hair, and he automatically lets his lips slide open so Joker can dip one of his gloved fingers into his mouth. He curls his tongue around the leather as it explores inside the cavity—while he's here, his mouth is treated as another convenient hole for Joker to fuck. "Six months since when I first claimed you."

Goro sucks at the finger hard once, then mumbles against Joker's fingers. The villain instantly concedes there, taking out his now spit-coated fingers to lead down a series of sensual touches down Goro's spine. "When you fucked me against some fancy hotel mattress without prepping me at all, you mean."

"I couldn't resist myself after you told me you were a virgin," Joker confesses silkily, kissing down Goro's neck in some faux apology, "your virgin hole, not having taken even your own fingers because you've never masturbated from there. The fact that the first to penetrate that hole of yours could be my own cock over some fingers... how could I possibly resist?"

He remembers the first time he had sex like it's yesterday. Joker ripping apart his clothes like a wild animal using his trusted silver dagger, spreading him open on those silk sheets then drinking down the sight of him naked and revealed. The cold metal of the knife travelling across his feverish virgin body as Joker quickly prepped himself, slapping capricious amount of lube on himself and himself only, before pushing in mercilessly. It had hurt, like Joker had slipped the dagger instead of his cock and was cutting him open from the inside. Yet, the pain fiercely intensified the pleasure when it came eventually, and Goro could do nothing but whimper, trapped between the grips of icy pleasure and searing pain, as Joker's words faded into the background and all of Goro's senses hyperfocused on the cock splitting him open mercilessly, until it twitched, thickened and released thick ropes of come all across his insides. He couldn't come without a hand on his cock, not back then, and he's only needed to be stroke twice to make a mess all over those sheets that probably equaled his monthly wage.

It's been the best blood-curdling orgasm he's had in his life at that point, completely overwhelming that any previous efforts at masturbating suddenly felt like watching paint dry. Now, it's just been one of what he's had with Joker. Of course, he would never confess to any of this, even when he's tortured for information.

Joker steps away graciously, his eye still locked hungrily on Goro's form yet making none of his usual movement of launching his entire body weight against Goro and tearing his clothes off. Instead he reaches under his desk, and when he returns, there is a bottle of champagne cradled between his deft fingers. "For celebration."

Goro tilts his head, still impossibly formal. "I don't drink."

Joker carefully sets two glasses on the table. "Even for a special occasion as such as this?"

"No," his rejection is blunt. 

It's nothing that has to do with Joker—it's actually because of his shitty waste of oxygen and earth space of a father. Sure, they're talking now, but that's only because Goro has proved his worth—because Goro has become a famed hero and a detective in his final year of high school, gathering fame by the buckets to the point where even Shido could no longer pretend he didn't exist. His jackass of a father only then had finally decided to acknowledge his existence. If Goro had been a better man and a less lonely child, he would have told daddy to go fuck himself, and not some poor unwilling woman for once. Goro had not been a better man.

Goro thinks if he hadn't been taken in then, he would have become a rampaging villain eventually. Perhaps he would he standing by Joker's side now. Perhaps even standing on top of Joker's corpse, his blood lapping up at his feet, because there are no two apex predators, just one... 

"It's vintage, or so I've been told by Noir," Joker shrugs, tipping the bottle to pour out the pale liquid, then draws the glass to his lips. "Your loss."

"So, the special occasion," Goro murmurs, looking past Joker and staring into the bright life of night Tokyo. "Is that why you brought me over here instead of a random hotel room? You brought me to your home for our six month anniversary, is that it?"

Joker laps at the alcohol like a cat, then slowly draws it away to reply. "I've brought you over to show you one of my neat skyscrapers."

Goro just raises his eyebrows. "It's a nice building, I suppose, but I can't order room service from here." When he sees Joker go for the bottle again, he smirks and crosses his arms. "You wouldn't want to drink too much. Alcohol may detriment your performance."

At that, he sees the villain twitch and drop the bottle. Then he tosses Goro a Cheshire-like grin. "You're concerned for my performance this evening? How very kind of you, Robin." Joker takes sharp, steps towards him, eyes gleaming behind the porcelain mask. He presses his body—really presses his body against Goro until every part of their available skin is touching, and Goro can feel the hard-on rubbing against his legs, even past the villain's many layers. "Pointless, but still."

"We even didn't do anything," Goro deadpans. "How the hell are you already hard?"

"You walking around in those pants is far more than enough for me." The villain, to emphasize his point, lowers his two palms so they're each pressing against his flesh. "They hug your ass perfectly and accentuate those lean legs. You may as well slap a 'fuck me' sign on your back, with how tight they are."

He can't control the blush that rises at the vulgar comment. "These are my standard pants. All of my clothes are like this." 

"I know," Joker leers, fingers now taking hold of his ass, slowly kneading them apart, even with the clothing still between them. "The spandex is even more revealing, but I could never help myself when you were wearing those fuck me pants, either. You're like an eager slut, showing off their best asset to seduce any cock they can find. I know the other villains are noticing how nice your ass is."

"That's—you're perverted," Akechi shrugs off the comment, suppressing a shiver. "I don't care about what other villains think. The outfit just minimizes air resist—"

"That's right, you don't care, because you're mine and mine alone," Joker growls against his ears, and the gentle caresses against his bottom suddenly morphs into a scathing bite as Joker takes a punishing grip over them. "Your holes have never seen any cock apart from my own, and you're going to keep it that way." 

Although Goro doesn't know anything about Joker—his age, real name, even his constantly morphing superpower are all a mystery that even the best of Shido's men and the best superpower experts money can buy cannot figure out combined—what he does know is that Joker is really, verily, dangerously obsessed with him. 

Goro's never missed any of his meetings with Joker intentionally, but he's accidentally missed it just once; a new villain had arisen in Kichijouji about four months into their agreement, who had caused chaos and havoc for his own amusement and distaste for society. Untrained, unorganized and sloppy, the new villain had been, but still powerful enough to send Goro into intensive care for a few days when he started fighting back earnestly to escape. He's awoken to the message of his opponent's death. The newbie villain ended up cut open, face eviscerated, hanging upside down on the telephone pole in the middle of Shibuya, the work glaringly Joker's. It's the only time Joker went against his promise. 

They've never talked about it, and instead Joker fucked him for twice as long the next week, driving into Goro past his limit until he fainted from overstimulation, marks and hickeys scattered along his throat and clavicle so much that he had to use makeup for a month covering up them.

Even after such a long time spent in each other's presence, Goro still doesn't quite know how to reply to Joker's sheer possessive attitude. Thankfully he doesn't have to; because suddenly Joker's hands are against his shoulders, pushing him down to his knees, the villain's eyes are burning more in crimson than its usual shade of dark grey. Appreciating the way out he dips his head to paw at the belt, drawing the metal apart and pulling the leather away. He doesn't say anything when Joker catches the strip he tosses away—now far too used to being whipped with a belt—merely presses his head forward to lick at where the head would be behind the layer. 

"Look at you..." Joker's voice is gravelly when he speaks up, his gloved hand running soothing motions in his hair. "I don't even have to prompt you anymore."

He can't reply, not with the shaft keeping his mouth apart, so he just grumbles on it, knowing Joker will fully feel the vibrations with his cockhead nudging against the start of his throat, then takes him deeper. He does graze the teeth against the sensitive flesh just to acknowledge the statement, and Joker counteracts by grabbing his locks and sinking down until the entire shaft is forced in his mouth, his lips brushing against the pubic hair. Joker rocks forward and back a couple times in his mouth, breathing turning staggered as

When the cock in his mouth hits full mast Joker brings him up, has him straddle the table, then brings his mouth close to Goro's throat, digging his teeth to leave a permanent mark that is most certainly drawing blood. "Safeword?" The seducing silky voice whispers, lapping against the newly-formed bruise that would join others scattered around his clavicle.

"Crow," Goro answers diligently, the process now automatic as his cock turning half-hard upon sucking Joker off—after all, it's not as if Joker would actually stop if he said it. It does make him a bit curious... "Would you actually stop if I say it?" Goro asks lightly as Joker hooks his fingers into his pants and underwear and pulls them down with a single swoop, causing his sensitive ass and cock to meet the cold air of Joker's room—because villains must have air conditioning in the midst of summer for their image.

"You've never said it, haven't you?" Joker murmurs against his skin, the gloved hand wrapping around his hard-on. "You won't ever have to, since you're a masochistic slut under all that heroics."

"Th-That's not an answer," he stutters as his cock jumps at the degrading remark—it must be because nobody but Joker dares to speak to him that way and in that particular way, Joker's words smooth and suave compared to other villains who are nothing but vulgar words with absolutely no finesse.

Joker, of course, doesn't miss the minute motion and dips the start of his glove into his slit as deep as it'd go. "You've never had to, have you? Make me first, and you'll get your answer," the villain growls next to his ear, and Goro groans as he feels Joker's three fingers plunge into his hole harshly, spreading him apart. "I don't think you ever will, though. Despite all the denial, your body is horribly honest about what it wants—for me to own you and use you however I want you to be."

Goro lets his head fall backwards and smiles to himself because despite the hostility and the derision, he knows Joker takes great care not to go overboard. While Joker may be a cruel, possessive, utterly insatiable and sometimes even borderline psychotic as a dominant he's never crossed the lines, never went past Goro's limits like he knows—and considering Joker's constantly-changing ability, Goro wouldn't be surprised if clairvoyance was included in the long list of available powers. Still. Even if he knew, it didn't mean he had to follow it, considering he held the cards that dictated the game.

Goro shakes the thoughts away. No matter how considerate Joker may be, it still didn't change the fact that the villain was Noir's right hand man with a body count in hundreds, that Joker treats lives like it's but a number on paper he can use it to negotiate a deal with him. Like this is all nothing but a simple game to him. 

"Get on already," he mutters, the heat coiling from the bottom of the stomach demanding the fingers hurry up, "I have an engagement to get to posthaste." 

"Nuh-uh," Joker tuts, infuriating smirk plastered on his face. "You know what to say." 

"Fuck," Goro hisses as the gloved digit find his prostate with unerring accuracy and massages the bundle of nerves gently, "Fuck me already." When Joker's expression only turns comically disapproving, he shuts his eyes tightly and lets out, "please."

"Can't hear that," Joker pipes up, faux innocence laced in his tone. 

"Please! Fuck me already, please," he shouts loud enough that it could be heard from the hallways knowing Joker would not be pleased with anything lesser, trying to ignore how his face heats up and how his cock hardens at the humiliation. 

"Good boy," is all he gets as a reply before Joker's cock presses past his rim and penetrates him, sinking in until the entire shaft is enveloped by the heat. Joker's gloved hand cradles his head soothingly in contrast to the pain of his ass being stretched, even with the lubrication the burn is painful enough that he flinches. Once Joker bottoms out, he smirks knowingly, "see, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Goro shakes his head. The hand in his hair tightens its grip until it becomes painful, a silent warning to speak up. "Oh, go fuck yourself." 

Joker slaps him across the face, but it's more sound than pain, which means that Joker isn't actually angry. Not that Joker wouldn't hesitate to inflict pain on him while he's not angry—it is simply that they've fallen into bed with each other far too many times for Goro to not know what the villain's actual fury looks like. "Fucking me is your job, why should I have to go anywhere else?" The villain accentuates it with a snap of his hips, the motion expertly rubbing his cockhead right against Goro's prostate. "Now, why would you speak so rudely to me knowing how I would react? Could it be that... Is this not enough for you? Are you trying to rile me up so I'd fuck you like property?" 

Of course, the reading goes two ways with Joker's keen levels of observation. Goro buries his head into his arms to avoid answering the question, ignoring the heat coiling at the bottom of his stomach at Joker's suggestion. Lying to himself that if he doesn't answer that question, it won't ever be real. 

Sometimes, when he is lying alone in bed and hard, he wonders if he's always been so sexually depraved or if Joker managed to instill some sort of a masochistic streak in him. He can never be sure which it is, because by the time he knew what was happening he's been craving whatever Joker doled out to him, but he thinks it has to be a mix of both. It's only been six months, after all... 

Joker doesn't seem to care for the sudden lack of reaction, taking the silence as an answer of its own. With snaps of his hips he continues to assault Goro's prostate with unerring accuracy, driving him closer and closer to the brink, until Goro is shivering and twisting and coming all over the table. 

Once he returns to his senses, he comes back to Joker keenly observing him, licking away the drops of Goro's come splattered all over his glove. The cock is still throbbing hard planted to the base in his ass, but Joker leisurely pats his hair and murmurs, "so pretty. All disheveled on my cock."

He wants to groan out a negative, but with the orgasm that's hit mere moments ago, it just comes out as a long, desperate moan. The hands move, all clutching onto him possessively, digging into skin hard enough to leave bruises. "And mine. All mine. Only mine."

Goro makes a questioning noise at the deepest place in his throat as Joker grabs him by the limbs and pulls him over towards the windows, the two of them still interconnected together. Sure, Joker is possessive of him—that's widespread public information by now, that anyone who dares to get his hand on him will bring forth Joker's wrath tenfold—but he's usually not possessive while he is around, and never this vocally. Marks, collars, mysterious deaths of people publicly declaring their love for him definitely, but never has Joker been so keen on stating how much he owned him—Goro has thought he's never done so because he thought his affection could be perceived as a weakness. 

He could never perceive Joker. Nobody could. That was why the Trickster could evade capture for so long despite the best of Tokyo's and all it heroes' work; utter chaos and unpredictability. Joker simply had no agenda that anybody could ever make sense out of.

(At least, before he came into the picture.)

Before he can retort about the treatment in any capacity he is face-first pressed against the cold glass that covers the entirety of the room's single side, the nightview of Tokyo vibrant in his sights as the cock within him presses into him deeper. "It's so lively, isn't it?" Joker croons seductively after a pause, effectively trapping him so he has no choice but to continue looking at the urban nightscape. "Even at night, Tokyo is so booming with energy."

"Yet you and your goon seem to be intent on extinguishing that light. Panther with arson, Noir with—Ah!" 

Joker is utterly unrepentant about the interruption as he begins to undulate his hips once again. "Can't help it. We want to make a difference in the world. It's just that we all have learned in our own ways that to make that difference, we have to own it," Joker's breath quickens against his ear as his robotic pace staggers, speeding up to a scabrous new rhythm. "If you'd join me, we could take over this city within days."

All he can do is moan against the window, his breath fogging up the glass and the view. He presses his body back against the thrusts weakly, knowing it'll intensify the strength of the push. "P-Please. I'd never—"

Joker's laugh is portentous in his ear. "Well. There's no point of that, is there? Noir already does, albeit it's unofficially." What Joker says is true—with how much Okumura Industries have become permeated in the necessities these days, collapsing the company would undoubtedly result in anarchy. "How about you join me, and I give you the city? Imagine, all this your land to rule."

"Sorry," Goro barely grits out, fingernails dragging into the glass and causing a loud, uncomfortable screech. His voice is callous and unyielding—he can't help himself. "Politics has never been my field, and it never will be. How about you join me? You wouldn't make a half bad hero if you could learn to work in a team."

"Like I wouldn't be arrested the moment I step into any government property unarmed," Joker scoffs, pressing deeper into Goro. He pauses for a moment to caress his asscheeks, smirking to himself. "The thought of fucking you against every surface I can find isn't unfavorable, though. I'd be able to screw you every day. So much that you wouldn't ever think about anyone else." A stony pause. "Like that barista kid you've been acquainting yourself with lately. Akira, was it?"

Goro's body muscles lock up at the mention of Akira, even though he knew it was long coming. Joker is possessive, easily beyond a healthy amount, it was only a matter of time until he found out about Akira no matter how much he kept himself low-key. Goro shuts his eyes tight, letting out a shaky sigh. "How long did you know?" 

"Oh, for a while."

"I swear to God, Joker, if you hurt him, I'll never forgive you—"

"Oh, why would I want to hurt him?" Joker murmurs in a clearly faked chipper tone, fingers digging into Goro's flesh. "He's very pretty under the glasses. Maybe I'll bring him over to fuck him first so you two can have matching scars. Oh, someone as pretty and mysterious as him could be a slut under all that indifference, maybe he'll even enjoy it when I bend him over the table and—"

"Alright! Alright! I understand, just stop."

Joker, to his surprise, does stop talking, although his presence is still frigid behind him. 

"I won't have sex with him," Goro pants against the glass. "I'll tell him we should stay as friends."

The painful press of fingers turn soft in a flash, caressing over the bruises left. "You're mine," Joker hisses, "I'm the only one with a cock big enough to please your insatiable sluttiness and see you like this, don't ever forget. Now, beg for my cock."

"Please," he slurs, tears springing from his eyes. "Fuck me harder, Joker. I need it, I need to be fucked..."

"Good boy."

Despite the numbness, his cock is rock hard and nudges against his stomach at every push Joker offers him, the orgasm slowly but inexorably building within him. It doesn't take much for him to come all over the shiny, unblemished transparent glass completely untouched, and Joker follows after two quick, rushed thrusts against his hole, making a mess of things. 

His body is still shaking as he cleans himself up. Joker doesn't even look at him as he dismisses himself, fumbling for his phone, not even knowing how to explain all this to Akira.

Joker hasn't moved from his position when he sent Akechi away after hours. In the silence, a critter slithers to his left, then after a following burst of transmogrification energy, there is no longer a cat, but a human. The night view of Tokyo is truly beautiful, he can't help but think, as the meows next to him morph into grumbles.

"Is that really necessary?" Morgana, once he returns to his human form, bites out in frustration. What Joker hears is a pout. "Is any of that necessary?"

He shrugs, ignoring the stone at the bottom of the gut to cheerfully reply back. "Hey, Noir has Queen, why can't I sleep with my rival superhero?"

"Haru knew Makoto ever since their time in Shujin together. You only know Akechi because you bumped in him once in a TV station, then you fabricated a whole connection to stay with him," Morgana grumbles. "Why are you so obsessed with that human, anyways? I know it's not because of Shido, not anymore."

"Nobody can be that innocent and blind, not even someone brainwashed for the whole agenda like Akechi—nobody is born that inherently good. Which means he either knows nothing of the world or feels guilt or some sort of obligation to do the right thing, suggesting that he's wearing a mask that's probably more tightly wound than my own." Akira smirks back. "The city's so boring, and everything's going according to plan. I can afford a little deviancy here and there," he shrugs it off just like it's nothing until Morgana's glance hardens and falls silent, leaving Akira to his own thoughts on why he can't leave Akechi alone.

At the beginning, it's merely been curiosity. His power—Third Eye—allows him to see through anyone transparently, figure out what they were about, what their powers were about in a flicker of an eye.  A gifted clairvoyant, he's prided himself for being (despite it being only one of his two abilities) yet he could not figure out what in the world Akechi's powers were, just that it was far more powerful than what he was using as Robin Hood. He's approached him to discover the truth and sate his curiosity, all while getting some really nice, no-strings-attached sex. Yet along the ways of knowing him, both as Joker and as himself, he has indubitably ended up falling in love with Akechi, the trap he sprung for the lonely and sole-standing hero instead trapping him between the webs. It wasn't supposed to become like this, the plan was simple—dominate him in bed as a villain and offer him a shoulder to cry on as a friend until Akechi couldn't stand without Joker and Akira by his side, then he was to work from there. He doesn't know when it all went wrong. Probably because he didn't expect himself to open up himself as much as Akechi offered himself, didn't expect them to be frustratingly similar.

He knows why Morgana worries so furiously. Akechi makes him predictable, and that is far more dangerous than any physical damage that could ever be inflicted on him. Because unlike all his other friends who has nothing to lose, unlike Haru who had to murder her own father trying to sell her for some political points and Ann who had her entire career destroyed the moment her pyrokinesis triggered and burnt her harasser to ashes, he still had an identity and a newfound family connected to it.

He's worked so hard for revenge.

"If Shido's fucking son figures out who you are, you're over, Akira," Morgana hisses dangerously, "so you better have a good idea what you're doing. Because you're not Noir with her million yen company, and unlike her, you have people you care for. The moment they figure out who you are, Futaba and Sojiro gets involved in all this, too."

I hope I know what I'm doing too.

"Don't worry about it," despite the storm within his mind, he brushes Morgana away, giving him the brightest, sharpest smile he can manage. "If that ever becomes the case, I'll deal with him personally."

AKIRA: hey babe ;)

GORO: Ah, Akira! My apologies. I've been preoccupied for the past hour.

AKIRA: np! I know hero work makes you very busy

GORO: Sorry, but can we push the dinner reservation on Friday?

GORO: Indefinitely?

AKIRA: why?

GORO: Something related to work has come up.

AKIRA: that's a shame i was looking forward to dinner with you

GORO: Me too, but for a while we shouldn't be seen with each other.

GORO: I'll come over to Leblanc sometimes, once this blows over for a while, but we shouldn't do something overly intimate or be seen together publicly.

AKIRA: aww

AKIRA: did something happen?

GORO: I just want to keep you safe, okay? Love you.

AKIRA: but if that's your decision i trust you

AKIRA: stay safe :) and love you too :)