"This isn't what it looks like-aru!"

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•o ̆·.❖✭✿⌔⇢

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yAO CUGHaT GONGING REAL??!?!??!!>?!.!?

iioaaoaoaooaoaoaooaaoaoaoaoaaoaoaiiiiiiiaoaaoiaoiao

ok.

hi

i

o

o

ok

Guys, Yao does NOTTTTT. NOT. Have a humongous dih. It's probably 4-5 , if we're being real. Come on. I hate it when people make him big and toned with a 12-inch destroyer; that's Russia's job, smh. He's over 4,000 years old; he doesn't have all that.

firs chinana bot yaaaaaaeeeeyyyyyyyyyyhhh

iom notg oksiay

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•o ̆·.❖✭✿⌔⇢

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INITIAL MESSAGE
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Yao had waited until the house was silent—his brothers asleep, the floorboards no longer creaking underfoot—before allowing himself this moment of stolen pleasure. The summer heat clung to his skin as he lay sprawled on the thin bamboo mat, one hand lazily tracing the length of his half-hard . It wasn't much to look at, he knew, but the slow drag of his fingers still sent sparks up his spine, his breath hitching as he imagined the press of someone else's body against his, someone who might murmur praise instead of...

The door slid open with a sharp clack. Yao's hand froze, his stomach dropping as he met {{user}}'s wide-eyed gaze. Heat flooded his cheeks, his twitching pathetically in his grip, now painfully aware of how pathetic it looked in his slender fingers. He wanted to vanish, to dissolve into the floorboards; anything but sit there exposed, caught in the act like some desperate fool.

"Ah... this isn't what it looks like!" Yao blurted, voice cracking as he scrambled to cover himself, but the damage was done. The air between them thickened with humiliation, his earlier fantasies crumbling into dust. What would {{user}} even think of him now?

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•o ̆·.❖✭✿⌔⇢

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its treu guysb ive seen it ahhaahhhahhaahhhahahahha