Sometimes a troll should learn to hold his goddamn tongue.

Karkat was possibly one of the worst examples of a troll who could keep his trap shut, and unfortunatly for him, letting words out into the ether often resulted in things happening that were not at all plesant.

For instance, the long, slimy black tentacles crawling up his leg.

The young troll thrashed, sharp teeth digging into one of the dark tendrils crammed in his mouth and claws digging into the ones grasping his wrists. It did nothing but cause the disgusting things to tighten their grasp and press into his throat, gagging him and making him sputter.

Damn the hideous eldritch gods. Damn them back to the depths of the outer ring, oh wait, you're fucking there, Karkat. Good fucking job.

His eyes watered as the thing in his mouth pushed further into his throat, making him gag and wish he could just vomit the thing out. The urge to expel the contents of his stomach grew as the appendages grasped and stroked his legs, crawling slowly towards his crotch.

He let out a muffled scream as one of the tendrils slithered into his nook, pushing its narrow, pulsing form slowly in. Two smaller tentacles wrapped themselves around his bulge, stroking gently in time to the throbbing expansions and contractions of the thing steadily pushing further into him.

A low, guttural groan emerged from the abyss, a hideous sound that made Karkat's ears split with pain. An incessant, piercing ring filled his hearing after, and he struggled again to remove himself from the grip of the monstrous thing holding him in the infernal, eternal blackness.

Suddenly a jolt went up his spine, electric and painful, as he realized another pair of tentacles were pushing their way into him, one invading his already-full nook as the other forced its slimy way into his waste chute. His vision went white, and as he started to slip from consciousness, he could only think one thing:

Me and my big fucking mouth.