You are Karkat Vantas, and you're not even sure if you want to try and explain what is going on on your computer screen right now. In fact, you're not even sure why you've been sitting here staring incredulously for the past ten minutes — but for some reason, you can't look away.

There's the fucking fish face, seemingly completely oblivious, with his hand down his pants, and his scarf in his mouth, cheeks flushed violet and eyes closed tightly behind those dinky thick glasses that he wore for whatever fucking reason. You doubt he needs them, but you've never found a good opportunity to test that theory.

You slouch forward against the desk, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch too intently as he rolls his hips up into his hand. It's almost attractive, the way his teeth dig into the blue striped fabric; how his breath hitches and catches in his throat.

A creak behind you alerts you, and you snap your attention over your shoulder, but it seems the coast is still clear. You look back to the screen in time to see Eridan has replaced his scarf with his fingers, and … oh Jegus. You're actually feeling a little flustered now. You bounce your foot against the floor in an effort to channel some of the squirmy feelings in your stomach. Goddamnit, this is the last person you'd have expected to feel this way over.

He's writhing in his chair, now, tongue lavishly slathering over his fingers. You're not sure if you should even be watching this anymore. Fuck. Your hands move up to rest atop your head, fingers buring themselves into your hair. It's not working. It's not working …

You switch feet, digging the toes of your left into the floor and grinding it down to try and elicit a little pain to get your mind off of how fucking hard it is to look away from the screen. Nope, still not working. Especially now that he's panting, and groaning, and —

… … Did he just fucking say your name? No. FUCKING. Way. Did he just say that. You grit your teeth down, gnashing them against each other, and sink back into your chair limply, almost lifelessly. … He has done some red flirting with your future self — and you, occasionally — and you do know he has some flushed feelings for you, but … seriously?

And then, unfortunately, just like that he's finishing — but Holy Mother Grub, the way he whimpers your name again sends a little shiver racing down your spine. You stare dumbly at the computer for a few moments, then move to sit yourself up just as he does.

He grabs the webcam, and leans up closer to it with a rather lewd smirk. " … Hope you enjoyed your show there, Kar. " And with a cocky grin replacing his smirk, he covers the webcam with his hand, then disconnects it.

…

MOTHER FUCKER.