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[ Right right, either way whatever's between his legs isn't gonna count for much since Koujaku isn't fucking a drunk-depressed Aoba.

But he can cuddle. Oh, how he can cuddle. ]

Come on. [ He'll just steal a kiss to Aoba's forehead all sneaky-like, before leading him away, disaster averted, nothing to see here folks. ]

We're getting you home.

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