((Talk about crack pairing... and I thought Eridan/Feferi was bad. What am I doing with my life.)) Jane/Gamzee. Second person perspective from Gamzee. Mature themes. ((Oh gog why))


Jane flicks the switch on the mixer off once the batter looks to be the correct consistency. She lifts up the head of the mixer and the creamy substance slowly drips down off of the beater back into the bowl below. You watch in fascination as she bustles around the kitchen from your perch on a stool (not on the counter, can't sit on the counter when she is baking). The faint scent of vanilla hangs on the air. You breathe it in deeply and smile. "Cinnamon," you murmur. "It needs some motherfucking cinnamon."

"You think so?" You hum in confirmation. "Alright." You watch as she reaches up to the top cabinets, having to get up on her toes and stretch all the way to get her fingers to the container. Her shirt pulls up with her arm and you absently lick your lips at the exposed sliver of skin. You think you might have hummed again, because she is glancing over at you. "You asked for cinnamon just to get me to look like this, didn't you?"

"Nah, but it doesn't hurt that you get all up and motherfucking cute like that."

She smiles and giggles lightly at that. As she goes and reaches for the container again, you slide off of the stool and walk over to her. You easily reach up and over her to lift the cinnamon down for her. She turns around and glares up at you.

"It's not fair that you are that tall all the time!" she huffs at you. You know she is only playing with you so you just smile back at her. "Ooooh! And you are just so smug about it too!" Instead of replying you simply sink to your knees so that now she is taller than you. "Hoo hoo! You are too much!" She leans over the short distance to kiss you on the forehead as she plucks the canister from your hands.

You settle back to watch her from this new location. She opens the cap and shakes some of the reddish dust into the mixing bowl. With a snap she closes it and turns the mixer back on. She glances behind her and finds you still kneeling on the ground. She just sighs loudly at you. Instead she gathers up all of the measuring cups and spoons and other used pieces and places them in the sink. It takes her just long enough that the cinnamon is now mixed in.

She lifts the mixer and scrapes the sides back into the bowl with a spatula. When she has gone all the way around she lifts the rubber head up to her lips and delicately licks some of the batter off. Your eyes are locked onto her mouth. You feel a light hum rattle through your chest. She looks over at you in the middle of a lick. You note how the creamy tan of the batter contrasts with the pink. She finishes the lick and another hum escapes you. When she pulls the spatula away from her face, you can't help the way the corners of your mouth fall a little. She must have noticed because her eyebrows are all up and getting away from her.

She brings it back to her mouth and licks it again, starting with a flat wide stroke and ending with a pointed tip. You can feel the flutter beasts in your stomach start to dance. "Hmm... needs something else." She holds the end of the spatula down to your level. You lean forward just enough to reach it with your own mouth, not even bothering to use you hands to take it from her. Your own tongue wipes a smear of the batter away. Your eyes never leave her face so you watch with a slow smirk how she tracks the action.

You smack your lips together. "Cardamon."

"Yea... Oh! I mean yes. That would be perfect," she startles herself out of her reverie and turns back to the cabinet to get the named spice. She has no issue reaching this one and adds it quickly to the batter. She turns the whirring machine on again but avoids looking at you again. That doesn't keep you from missing the pink flush on her cheeks. You silently get to your feet just in time to catch her wrist lightly before she uses the spatula to scrape the sides again. With your arm going around her other side, your long fingers dip into the edge of the batter. You bring them up close to her lips. When they are a couple inches away she opens and leans forward like you had with the spatula. Her tongue peaks out and makes contact, cleaning some of the batter off. Warm... Like the rest of her. And soft, you think as she takes another lick.

A deep thrumming noise starts in your chest as she licks again and again until your fingers are clean. She turns around in the circle of your arms and gets all up on her toes again to get close to your face. Her soft lips press against yours and you can taste the cake batter with all of it's vanilla and cinnamon and motherfucking cardamon notes but it tastes much better than that when you open your mouth to get just a little bit more from her. You just want a little bit more as your hands drift down to her waist. Just a little you think as you pull her in closer. You just want a taste...

Her tongue caresses yours and flavors explode in your mouth. So motherfucking delicious. She giggles as the noise coming from your chest increases in volume. You love those motherfucking giggles. You step forward and she steps backward. You step forward and she steps backward. You step forward but she is stopped by the counter. Well that won't do. Your hands make easy work to lift her up and sit her on the counter. (You aren't allowed to sit on the counter but she never said any motherfucking thing about her sweet ass sitting on any counter.) Your lips don't leave hers as your hands start wandering. Her hands start their motherfucking journey as well. She touches so motherfucking well. Gets you all riled and ready to motherfucking go.

She does her job so well that you don't even realize that your shirt is all up and missing. Or that your pants are all open and sliding down your hips. Your sneaky fingers slide underneath her shirt to stroke against smooth silky skin. Up higher and higher until there is no more shirt. All that remains is that extra piece she wears to hold in those miracles that fill out the now missing shirt. That goes away quickly and you get to behold the miracles in the flesh.

She distracts you again with her mouth against your neck. You shiver at her touch as her fingers trail down your sides to your hips. She leans forward to press herself against you, holding your hips apart. Her hands keep moving, reaching down to stroke you once, twice. You moan into the crook of her neck. Your horns tap against the cabinet doors behind her. Then she reaches lower. Motherfuck.

As you gasp you hear her own breath catch. Both of her hands are moving but you can only feel one. You motherfucking know what that means and it just gets you all hot and bothered and she knows it gets you all hot and bothered when she touches herself. You know what she is doing to herself because she is doing it to you as well. And oh it feels so motherfucking good. She works fucking miracles and you tell her so.

Her hands shift up again and strokes your bulge and you know it's showtime. She leans back and lets you push forward in between her legs, forcing her skirt up to her hips. You groan deep as she guides you to her motherfucking heat. It's always so miraculous how you slide into her and those motherfucking sounds that she makes just makes you shudder with their wicked goodness. You press against her. You breathe her in. You lick the sweet flavor off of her neck. You listen to your name fall from her lips. Your movements roll against her in beautiful rhythm that brings more of those sweet sounds out. All of those sensations mix together like wicked ingredients in the tastiest dessert ever made.

You know she feels the same because she tells you so. You relish the way she holds onto you. The way that her fingers dig into your shoulder. The way she tucks herself against you. The way she shakes and shivers. The way she makes you feel whole. It is motherfucking miraculous.

You feel the pleasure curl up at your core as your hips work harder and she grips you tighter. You aren't even aware that you were talking until she interrupts you with a soft command to "Let go."

So you do.

You let go of the building pressure with a low moan. You don't know how your knees don't give out (a motherfucking miracle). Jane cries out in your arms as her achieves her own wicked bliss. You collapse together in a quivering mess of heavy panting and shaking muscles. You are just enjoying the motherfucking sensations when she starts giggling. It's a soft sweet sound that just makes you think of smiles and summer nights and happy times. You start chuckling along until her lift her hands to your face and pulls you into the sweetest motherfucking kiss.

When you finally pull apart both of you are wearing soft smiles and she just looks so beautiful. You could just stare at her forever but you realize that she is talking to you.

"... very nice. Why don't you go start us a shower while I get this cake into the oven, sweetheart."

"Sounds like a motherfucking good plan, babe."

"Hoo hoo!" she laughs at you. "Well get going!" She pushes at your shoulder but you just lean in and steal another kiss because you can't get enough of those wicked sweet lips. She indulges you but is soon pushing you away with more force and finally you relent. That cake is going to be motherfucking delicious.


((I am so sorry))