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    Summary

    Kacchan lies on the bed, utterly conked out. His head tips toward the door, blond lashes gracing his cheekbones, lips faintly pink and parted in slumber. Gold tufts sprout wildly like a crown; or like a messy halo. Angelic in sleep, alert and piercing while awake.

    Izuku’s dick twitches in his slacks.

    **

    Or, did you know weasels love the hunt?

    Language:
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