she gives me toothaches just from kissin' me

by bluenote

Summary:

Quackity and Niki have shared interests. Interests including one softening ram and an assortment of baked goods.

Notes:

this is probably the most self indulgent thing i've ever written and i don't regret it at all

title from "work song" by hozier!

a sequel to "(this is) hungry work", you don't need to read it beforehand, but it might be more enjoyable if you do and also if you enjoy this you'll definitely like that :)

hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: cream puffs

Quackity isn’t quite sure how exactly baked goods became such a cornerstone of his sex life.

Okay, well, that’s not entirely true. He knows how, and it has to do with a long time of him being and admiring his ex-fiancé’s steadily growing figure from afar over months but not feeling like he deserved to talk to him, until suddenly they found themselves with Quackity on his lap feeding him the last bites of an entire cake. That’s how. But he still finds it funny, sometimes. How being given pastries to take home to his fiancé feels like something risqué.

“Those are for Schlatt, he’ll like them,” Niki tells him with a knowing smile as she hands him a neatly packaged box of cream puffs.

“Schlatt will like anything you give him,” Quackity replies dryly.

“Fair,” Niki giggles. “But he will especially like them.”

It’s a routine that Quackity has fallen into. On days when he actually has to do work for his position as secretary, when he needs to actually pull out his nice dress pants and brush the part of his hair that sticks out of his beanie, he rewards himself for the effort. And by rewards himself, he means that Niki’s bakery is right along his way home from Tubbo’s house, and he’ll stop in for tea, and she’ll invariably send home a box of pastries intended for Schlatt, with a look that says she knows he’s going to eat them all in one sitting and that Quackity is going to enjoy that immensely. Niki’s close enough to both of them that she knows, more or less, what their whole relationship with food is. Not in the bedroom, per se, but she’s very aware of Quackity’s desires to keep Schlatt fed (or more accurately, overfed), and she’s observant enough to fill in the blanks.

“He’s really not far from needing new clothes again,” Quackity says conversationally, raising his eyebrows. “I have a feeling your baking has a large part in why.”

Quackity doesn't miss the light blush that dusts Niki’s soft cheeks at that. He knows there's very much a reason why Niki is so eager to supply Schlatt with high-fat treats, and she knows that he knows, and it's fun to tease her.

“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Niki says, with a remarkable amount of dignity. “And I really think you are more to blame for that.”

“Both of us are,” Quackity grins. “You’re my partner in crime.”

Niki rolls her eyes, smiling.

“I am running a bakery, I’m doing my job,” she says. “Is that a crime?”

“No, but I think it’s a crime that you won’t let me pay for these,” Quackity replies, lifting the box.

“No, no,” Niki insists sternly. “Don't you dare.”

“The only reason I’m letting it go,” Quackity chuckles. “Is because I know damn well that the fact that Schlatt is going to eat these is payment enough for you-”

“Get out of my shop, you scoundrel!” Niki scolds him with a scandalized laugh, raising her nearby rolling pin threateningly.

“Alright, alright, I'm going,” Quackity grins, moving the box under his arm to free a hand to get the door. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Tell Schlatt to come by soon,” Niki calls after him as he goes. “And tell me how he likes the cream puffs.”

“In detail?” Quackity laughs, earning a last view of a middle finger from Niki as the door closes.

Most of the time while Quackity’s working, Schlatt does fuck-all. Schlatt doesn't do much in general. He loves not doing much. Quackity always monitors him carefully, making sure that it’s not in a self-isolating or depressed way, but he’s learned that no, Schlatt is just, in a lot of ways, kindred spirits with Jambo. That is, his ideal day includes a lot of napping and sitting around and being fed and given attention. Luckily for him, Quackity’s more than willing to indulge him. Sure, he makes sure Schlatt gets out of the house on days when both of them have nothing, but when Quackity leaves for work, he's content with leaving him to sleep in as long as he wants.

He's not asleep when Quackity gets to his house, which is more accurately their house at this point. He’s on the couch, still in his pajamas, Jambo curled up on his lap contently and a book in his hand. He looks big and soft and relaxed, hair tousled from sleep and t-shirt ridiculously snug around his belly. His face brightens when Quackity comes in, looking up from his book.

“Hey,” he smiles. “You look very professional.”

“You look very relaxed,” Quackity grins, hanging up his coat and kicking off his boots.

Jambo yowls a little in greeting and hops off of Schlatt’s lap to weave between Quackity's legs, and Quackity leans down to scratch him behind the ears some before crossing to the couch and taking his place on Schlatt’s lap in a very no-nonsense way. Jambo wanders off to bat at a milk jug ring somewhere.

“I know that box,” Schlatt chuckles.

“Have you eaten something real?” Quackity asks.

When they'd really started to get into all of this, about a month after they’d gotten back together, they'd laid down some ground rules. Obviously, things like that Schlatt could opt to stop at any point, that it was all up to what he wanted to do, what Quackity could and couldn’t say and do, basic safety and consent type concepts. But there were also other things, like that they both had to make sure Schlatt got real nutrition and ate substantial, at least semi-healthy meals outside of whatever he consumed for more pleasure based reasons. That doesn't, of course, mean counting calories or anything, just making sure that he gets protein and nutrients and all that shit on top of everything else, as tempting as it would be for both of them for him to eat nothing but sugar for the rest of his life.

“Yeah, I reheated the leftover pasta from last night,” Schlatt tells him, eying the cream puffs.

“All of it?” Quackity asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes?” Schlatt says, squinting as he tries to gauge his tone.

“Good on you for eating well, but fuck you, because I was thinking about those leftovers for when I got back,” Quackity huffs, opening the box.

“Sorry,” Schlatt grins. “If you just told me-”

“Well, I didn't expect you to eat all of that before I got back,” Quackity says, selecting a cream puff. “Which is on me, because of course you did. Open.”

Schlatt parts his lips immediately, and Quackity presses the pastry inside. It’s big enough that he can't quite eat it in one bite, and thick, yellow cream oozes out as he pulls away. He makes a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat that doesn't even feel like he’s playing it up for Quackity, and his dark eyelashes flutter a little as he closes his eyes in ecstasy.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” he sighs.

“You’re good,” Quackity murmurs, pushing the rest of the puff into his mouth with his thumb.

“It feels like such a wine mom thing to say,” Schlatt says with his mouth full. “But these are, like, sinfully good.”

Quackity gives a bark of a laugh at that.

“Janice, your bake sale brownies are sooo sinful,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice. “I’m being so bad! Good thing it’s my cheat day.”

“I think I’ve been having a lot of cheat days recently,” Schlatt chuckles. “Give me another one.”

The box is right there, balanced on the couch next to him, so Schlatt could fully take one if he wanted. But he knows if he tries, Quackity will grab his hand and do it himself. He smiles and picks up another cream puff and presses it to his mouth. He watches Schlatt bite into the softness of it, watches as he licks powdered sugar off his lips and watches his throat work as he swallows. It’s insane the effect Schlatt has on him, just through this, just through eating what he’s given and looking blissed out as he does. He opens his mouth again, and Quackity places the rest of the second cream puff in it.

“These are thick,” Schlatt sighs contently through the cream. “Fuck me. You been bribing Niki to make the most fattening things she can?”

“No, she’s doing that herself,” Quackity grins, tugging down the hem of Schlatt’s shirt some. “Look at this. This barely fits you.”

“I know,” Schlatt groans, uselessly trying to get the fabric to cover his hips where it’s ridden up. “It’s from about fifty pounds ago, so.”

As much as Quackity loves seeing how taxed the t-shirt is from trying to contain his bulk, he’s struck with the sudden desire to see Schlatt’s belly in all its glory, so he rucks the fabric up to his chest and hums in approval. It’s soft and rounded even when empty these days, and he’s observant enough when it comes to Schlatt that he can tell he’s decently full from a very generous amount of leftovers and now two cream puffs. Unfortunately for him and fortunately for Quackity, there’s still eight left.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, squeezing gently at the plush fat and hearing Schlatt hum pleasantly in response. “Can’t blame Niki. Wanna show you off.”

He leans down to pepper kisses around his navel, Schlatt curls a hand in his hair as he does.

“You don’t- really think Niki likes this, do you?” Schlatt asks doubtfully, slowly, like the kisses are distracting him.

Quackity pulls away to look up at Schlatt with his eyebrows raised.

“Schlatt, she’s just as eager as I am to feed you,” he chuckles. “Did you really never notice?”

“I don't know,” Schlatt protests. “That's how people are when they make food, they want people to enjoy it. I thought that was all it was.”

Quackity scoffs, keeping one hand on his belly while picking up another cream puff and feeding it to him.

“I didn't even ask her for these,” he says. “I just stopped by to say hi and she told me to give them to you.”

There’s a look of realization that dawns on Schlatt's face.

“Oh,” he says, mouth full.

“You’re lucky you’re so goddamn hot,” Quackity giggles. “Because sometimes you are not the most observant-”

“She told me she swore off men!” Schlatt protests.

Quackity rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, and I swore off you, ” he says, and it's been long enough that the reminders of their little break doesn't sting anymore. “Doesn't mean I ever stopped being attracted to you.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Schlatt says uncertainly, swallowing the rest of the third cream puff and opening his mouth for more obediently.

“Honestly, I like it,” Quackity says, and admitting something like that would've been near petrifying not that long ago, but he’s gotten a lot more comfortable with expressing what he likes as of late. “That Niki is into it.”

“Really?” Schlatt says curiously. “I didn't think you liked women.”

“I don't,” Quackity shrugs, rubbing Schlatt’s stomach a little absently. “But you already know I like when. People notice. And I know you do, too. And most of the time, it's not like I want people to also be into it, I just want them to acknowledge it, y’know? But Niki. I don't know. Maybe it’s because we’re so close with her. And she provides us baked goods. And you already are attracted to her.”

Schlatt flushes.

“I don’t- I’m not-” he protests, and Quackity laughs.

“Do I look mad?” he smiles. “It’s okay. I get it. She feeds you, that's your type.”

He pats the side of his belly some, and draws up a thick belch from Schlatt.

“God, these are rich,” he sighs. “Could you get me something to drink?”

Quackity's up immediately, crossing to the kitchen.

“You’re not even halfway done with those,” he reminds Schlatt cheerfully as he opens the fridge.

“I know,” Schlatt groans, but he can hear that he’s smiling without even turning around.

Quackity scans the fridge for a second, contemplating. Their fridge stays well stocked, as do all their cupboards and their pantry. Both of them are decent cooks, but they enjoy their own fair share of takeout and snacks and processed shit from the store. Quackity, by sheer nature of living with Schlatt, knows he’s gained some weight himself- nothing major, nothing like Schlatt has, fifteen pounds, maybe. He has no desire to be fed the way Schlatt does, nor did he try to put on any of the weight, but he gets why he likes it. It feels comfortable, a reminder that he’s eating well. It’s hard not to, when food stays on his mind so often, even if it’s not intended for him.

After taking a quick inventory of the fridge, he debates for a moment between milk and something carbonated. Milk seems to be the obvious choice, sweet and creamy to match the cream puffs, but soda gets Schlatt more bloated. He doesn’t always love carbonation, though- it has to match the mood, and Quackity decides against it and pulls out their jug of whole milk and pours him a tall glass. It feels strangely natural, the analysis. Whatever it is they do, Quackity considers himself an expert at it now. It’s been about four months since they started dating again, three months since they really started doing the whole feeding thing, two since they got reengaged, and nothing’s ever felt so right.

Schlatt accepts the glass from Quackity gratefully, taking a long drink as he gets resituated on his lap. As soon as he pulls away he burps once, then twice, then sighs in relief, holding out the glass to Quackity, who sets it on the coffee table behind them. When he turns back, Schlatt has a cream puff in hand, and he immediately grabs his hand and snatches it from him.

“Stop trying to steal my job,” he scolds.

“Sorry,” Schlatt says with a shit-eating grin, which Quackity immediately dissolves by shoving the cream puff in his mouth.

They work through the rest of the cream puffs at a steady pace, Quackity feeding him with one hand and rubbing his belly with the other, Schlatt listening attentively while he talks about his day at work. By the time he’s finished the entire box, plus the rest of the glass of milk and then another, Quackity can tell he’s feeling it, slouched back against the pillows with his belly bloated and round, panting a little.

“That was the last one,” Quackity murmurs, brushing powdered sugar off his hands. “You did so good for me.”

He leans in to kiss him, and he tastes like milk and cream. He makes a little needy sound against Quackity, and he pulls away.

“You okay?” he asks softly, massaging the soft, bloated underside of his gut.

“I’m great,” Schlatt sighs. “Full. That feels good.”

“Getting so big for me,” Quackity murmurs. “Look at you.”

“I know,” Schlatt moans, eyes closed. “Feel- fuck. Feel huge.”

“And you like that, don't you?” Quackity asks, gently teasing. “Like being so big and spoiled. Like letting me and Niki fatten you up.”

Schlatt’s breath hitches hard at that, which turns into a burp. Quackity laughs, continuing to gently rub circles by his navel.

“You like that?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Schlatt says breathlessly. “Yeah, I. Want you two to- fuck. Is this okay? With you?”

He’s looking down at him, eyes open and earnest despite being slightly half lidded in pleasure.

“It’s okay with me,” Quackity says with a grin. “You know that. I brought it up. But maybe we should speak to Niki, see if there’s some way she wants to be, y’know. More involved.”

Schlatt swallows hard, in a way that Quackity knows means he’d like her to be more involved very much.

“Okay,” he breathes. “Let’s do that. Fuck me- can you get these pants off me?”

Quackity doesn't need to be told twice. He’s wearing pajama pants that are clearly a size or two too small, the seams pulled tight against the thickness of his thighs. He’s removed the string in the waistband all together and the elastic is still pulled tight against him- which does nothing to hide the outline of his erection. Schlatt has told him, much to Quackity’s delight, that he used to find himself helplessly turned on by his own overeating even before Quackity joined the equation. Quackity loves that- that both of them, individually, are clearly so fucking into this, and the fact that the other is is only an added bonus. Quackity loves having a hand in all of it, physically feeding him and knowing that he's gained weight because of him. But something about the fact that Schlatt had already gained thirty pounds before they were even speaking again just from his own pure enjoyment without his intervention really gets to him as well.

“Lift your hips,” Quackity orders, grabbing his too-tight waistband.

“Easier said than done,” Schlatt grumbles, but he does, with some difficulty, hiccuping and groaning at the motion.

Quackity pulls his pants down, also not without a fight, the plushness of his thighs creating quite an obstacle. Once he has them off, he wastes no time in teasingly palming Schlatt through his boxers, drawing a satisfied moan from him.

“So hard already just from eating,” Quackity murmurs. “Wait here for a minute.”

Schlatt lets out a noise of protest as Quackity removes his hand and stands up. He heads to the fridge and pulls out a tub of ice cream- cookies and cream, Schlatt’s favorite, as evidenced by the fact that it’s already half empty when he pulls the lid off. It’s still plenty, though, and Quackity sticks a spoon into it and heads back to hand it to Schlatt.

“I- I don't know, Alex,” Schlatt groans, palming his stomach with his free hand once he takes it. “Fuck, I’m full.”

But this is part of the game, too, and Quackity’s used to it now. He gets down on his knees, positioning himself between Schlatt’s legs.

“As long as you keep using your mouth,” he purrs, pulling down the waistband of his boxers. “I’ll keep using mine.”

Without being told twice, Schlatt shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.

Chapter 2: butter chocolate cranberry

The familiar cheerful ding of a bell rings out as Schlatt enters Niki’s bakery. It’s comfortably warm inside, the heat from the ovens providing respite from the biting February air outside. It smells like sugar and fruit inside, and the scent is enough to peak the interest of Schlatt’s admittedly already- tactfully- full stomach.

“I’ll be with you in a minute!” Niki calls out from around the corner, all cheer and customer service.

“No need to rush, just me,” Schlatt assures her, shrugging off his coat.

“Schlatt!” Niki greets him, delighted, head poking around the corner. “So good to- hang on, one second! Sorry, let me-”

“Really, no rush,” Schlatt chuckles. “Don’t let me distract you.”

Niki disappears back around the corner for a minute, and Schlatt takes the liberty to sit down in one of the plush armchairs by the fireplace, allowing himself a soft “oof” and a muffled burp as he does. Quackity’s right- he really does need new clothes. They’re still functional, not quite at the level he let his old clothes get before sizing up the first time, but this sweater, which was loose on him when he got it in November, was comfortably snug around his belly when he’d first put it on this morning, even before he’d eaten anything. His pants are less comfortably snug, digging in a little into his underbelly even though he’d loosened his belt on the way here. Quackity had called him “tempting” that morning, which Schlatt had laughed at.

“What does that even mean?” he’d grinned.

“It means it’s ridiculous how good you look,” Quackity had said, squeezing his hip. “And I don’t think you’ll have any trouble seducing our dear Nihachu.”

“I’m not seducing anyone,” Schlatt had chuckled, and Quackity had raised his eyebrows.

“Not on purpose, maybe.”

Schlatt has to admit to himself that this feels pretty damn near seduction, if Niki’s tastes are anything like Quackity’s. It’s an especially familiar routine when Niki comes around the corner carrying a sheet of cookies, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the ovens.

“You have perfect timing,” she tells him, smiling brightly. “These just came out of the oven. It’s a new recipe- I should let you try them before selling them.”

“Oh,” Schlatt says, and fuck, it is the same practiced, faux doubtfulness he always plays up for Quackity. “I don’t know. I really just dropped by to chat, I had a big lunch.”

“Big even for you?” Niki giggles, setting the tray on the table next to Schlatt anyways.

“Really, it was two lunches,” Schlatt admits, letting his hand casually rest on the side of his belly and not missing the way Niki tracks the motion. “It was a mix-up on my part- completely forgot I’d said I would get lunch with Connor, and by the time I remembered I’d already eaten with Alex.”

It was half the truth; he had eaten one lunch with Quackity, and one lunch with Connor. However, there was no accident about it. He’d come downstairs an hour before he was meant to meet Connor to find Quackity dutifully arranging sandwiches, and when he’d told him he was having lunch with Connor, Quackity had given him a downright devilish grin and told him that surely he could at least have one of the sandwiches. And so Schlatt had headed off to Connor already three thick sandwiches deep into lunch, and that didn't stop him from loading up his dining plaza plate multiple times.

“And of course, you could not just not eat with Connor,” Niki says dryly.

“Well, that would be rude,” Schlatt protests. “Showin’ up to lunch with a friend and saying I'd already eaten.”

“Right,” Niki grins. “So I’m sure you could just barely eat with Connor?”

She’s teasing him, and that's not that out of the ordinary, not for any of his friends. Connor teases him all the time, and he's never thought for a second he might be into all this. But something about Niki’s tone, the near challenge in her voice- it’s familiar, and especially considering all that Quackity said about her- Schlatt's definitely thinking that he’s right.

“Of course not,” he scoffs, and allows himself a more obvious pat-pat on the curve of his belly. “I have plenty of room for two lunches.”

“Then surely, you have room for cookies,” Niki says, and her gaze is concentrated and yes, definitely challenging.

Schlatt looks over doubtfully at the sheet of cookies. Of course he can, but he wants to keep testing Niki.

“Maybe,” he says, playing up his uncertainty. “I'm really full, Niki.”

And maybe he lets a little bit of a whine sneak into his voice, or maybe it's just the sentence in itself, but whatever it is, a more obvious flush spreads across Niki’s face and she quickly heads over to start rummaging behind the bakery counter.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” she says with a careful sort of evenness. “The cookies need to cool, anyways.”

“Alright,” Schlatt chuckles, and Niki gives him a light-hearted glare as she pulls out two mugs and starts up the coffee machine.

“What are you laughing about?” she asks.

“Nothing,” Schlatt sighs, sinking back in the armchair a little. “You and Alex just have a lot in common.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Niki asks stiffly, crossing her arms.

Schlatt shrugs lazily.

“You both keep me well fed,” he says casually.

Niki conveniently busies herself with wiping the counter down.

“Well,” she says after a moment. “Someone has to, with that appetite of yours.”

“You can't blame this on my appetite,” Schlatt grins. “I’m telling you I’m full, and you’re still trying to feed me.”

Niki stares down at the counter, blushing far more than can be blamed on the heat from the ovens.

“You do not stop eating when you are full,” she says carefully, like she’s testing the waters. “I know this. So I offer you more. Because you are my friend, and it makes you happy.”

“I think it makes you happy, too,” Schlatt chuckles.

“Did Quackity put you up to this?” Niki demands, whirling around to turn back to the coffee machine.

“Not exactly,” Schlatt grins. “He gave me some. Theories, I hadn’t considered.”

Niki is silent for a moment as she steadily pours two mugs of coffee. When she turns back to face him, she leans back against the counter and sighs.

“I’m… sorry,” she says quietly. “I don't want to. Intervene, or cause problems- I want you and Quackity to be happy, it’s selfish of me to-”

“Oh, no, Niki, no,” Schlatt says quickly, realizing what she means. “No, it’s all good. Alex put me up to this because he's a fuckin’ freak, not because he’s. Threatened, or something. Neither of us are upset. Or. Against it, at all.”

Niki stares at him for a moment, and Schlatt can see her turning thoughts over in her head, her blond brow creased.

“We should. Stop speaking in riddles,” she giggles faintly after a moment.

“We should,” Schlatt smiles. “Alright. Alex told me he thinks you’re into feeding me, like he is. And that’s why you always give me all these baked goods. And he thinks it’s a little hot. And frankly, so do I.”

Niki blinks at him for a moment, now thoroughly pink.

“And of course, that’s only at whatever level you’re okay with it-” Schlatt starts, and Niki cuts him off by shaking her head.

“No, I’m,” she says, smiling. “I’m okay. I’m. I’m sorry, I’m embarrassed. Um. Just black coffee, right?”

“Right,” Schlatt grins.

Niki pours cream into her own coffee only a little shakily, and hands Schlatt his.

“I can’t believe you take your coffee black,” she giggles as she settles in the chair beside him.

“Lots of people do,” Schlatt shrugs, taking a sip of his and enjoying the calming effect on his overworked stomach.

“Yes, but not people-” Niki flusters under him raising his eyebrows, and finishes quickly, “who have such a sweet tooth, don’t look at me like that, Schlatt, God.”

“I get plenty of sugar from other places,” Schlatt chuckles. “Namely, you. The cream puffs were perfect, by the way. Of course they were.”

Niki takes a sip of her own coffee and seems to debate with herself for a moment.

“Were,” she repeats slowly. “So you. Already finished them?”

Schlatt splays a hand on his belly shamelessly.

“Course I did,” he says cheerily. “Alex made sure of that. Whenever he brings back a box from you, rest assured it’s all gone within the hour. He's ruthless.”

Niki exhales, nursing her coffee mug pensievely.

“That’s,” she breathes. “That was so much cream, and. Sugar, and butter-”

“And fat,” Schlatt adds casually, taking another sip of his coffee. “Definitely lots of that. No wonder my clothes barely fit.”

Niki’s gaze flits from his belly to back down at her coffee mug in the same nervous, harried way Quackity used to before they’d really gotten used to all this.

“And that doesn’t. Bother you?” she says carefully.

“Niki,” Schlatt says, amused. “Does it seem like it bothers me?”

And as if to prove his point, he sets down his mug on the table and takes a cookie from the sheet and bites into it. It’s admittedly maybe still a little too hot, but Schlatt prefers his cookies soft, and Christ, is it soft, gooey and melty and ridiculously sweet, and he lets out a little noise of approval.

“Jesus, these are good,” he says appreciatively.

“They’re. Butter chocolate cranberry,” Niki says with what seems to be some difficulty concentrating. “I thought you were full.”

“I am,” Schlatt agrees, taking another bite. “But you’re right. That’s not exactly when I stop. And these are so fuckin’ good. I could probably eat the whole batch. If-”

Niki looks at him expectantly.

“If what?” she asks.

“If you want me to,” he says with a grin.

Niki’s blush has moved fully into red territory at this point.

“I-” she says, swallowing hard, then giving a shy smile back. “I would. If your clothes can handle it.”

Schlatt lets out a surprised laugh at her boldness, noting the buzz of arousal low in his abdomen. He'd ignored it before when it came to Niki, out of respect to Quackity, out of some idea that it was his own Pavlovian response to baked goods and had nothing to do with Niki herself. Now, he lets it run through him, lets it guide him to taking the next bite.

“If they can’t,” he says around the mouthful. “That’s part of the fun, isn’t it?”

Niki makes a small noise that says that she definitely agrees.

The entire batch of cookies is perhaps a bit ambitious, but it’s not like anyone can accuse Schlatt of having eyes bigger than his stomach. It’s not a huge batch, maybe fifteen cookies, but Christ, Schlatt really is full, however much he was playing it up for Niki. But he’s determined to finish them, not only out of his own stupid sense of pride, but because he’s basking in the wonder and obvious arousal in Niki’s expression as he steadily makes his way through the cookies despite clearly stretching his capacity. She doesn’t say much, for the most part, just refills his coffee and watches with the same hungry look on her face that Schlatt’s well-accustomed to with Quackity.

“Jesus,” he exhales breathlessly as he finishes the last cookie, followed by a helplessly stuffed burp. “‘Scuse me. Fuck.”

He’s in the territory of overstuffed that he loves more than anything, feeling huge and glutted and panting because he’s too full to get a real, deep breath in, his pants digging in painfully to the underside of his swollen belly. He’s midway between drowsily basking in the sensation and feeling electrified by Niki’s presence, by her intense, concentrated gaze. She doesn’t look flustered in an embarrassed way anymore- she looks almost calculated, analytical.

“Your sweater,” she says softly.

Schlatt’s too bloated to know what she means just by looking down at himself, but as she says it, he realizes that his sweater has ridden up and exposed a stripe of soft skin above his waistband.

“Ah,” he exhales, muffling another burp and letting himself slouch back further into the chair. “This sweater was big on me in November, you know.”

Niki is up on her feet in a moment, and Schlatt watches with a sort of lazy interest, too full to protest or even properly think about what she’s doing. She reaches out carefully and tugs the hem of the sweater back over his belly, just barely covering it, and when she goes to pull her hand away Schlatt catches her wrist and presses it back.

“You can touch me,” he says, voice coming out a little raw with want.

“And. Quackity’s okay with-” Niki says quietly, and Schlatt nods.

“He instructed me to seduce you,” he says with a crooked grin. “He’ll be thrilled.”

And then Niki’s walking away, and Schlatt feels a needy pang at that, the urge to whine and plead for her to put her hand on him again, but he’s not going to push anything, not when it’s so new. But instead, she just switches the sign on the bakery’s front door to “closed” and heads right back, and Schlatt chuckles gingerly, trying not to move his overworked stomach too much. Niki splays her small hand on the part of his belly that his sweater had previously exposed, all low and sensitive, and Schlatt shivers a little at the sensation.

“Your pants look so tight,” she breathes sympathetically.

“They are,” Schlatt groans. “Would you-?”

Niki knows what he’s asking before he even finishes speaking, and she quickly and deftly pops the button on his fly, and Schlatt lets out a sigh of relief, burping into his fist as his belly spills forward and pushes the zipper down on its own. Niki stands there for a second just drinking him in. Schlatt wonders if she’s processing just how big he is, just how much of a hand she had in making him that big. How much of a hand she could have in making him even bigger. She places both of her hands on his belly this time, the touch soft and curious, and Schlatt makes a small noise of satisfaction at the contact.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks sweetly.

“Please,” Schlatt replies breathlessly.

And when she does, her lips taste so, so sweet.

Notes:

sorry it's taken me longer than i thought to get this next part up, i've had a crazy past week LMAO so it's not for any lack of passion! i've also been working on some other fun things i'm pretty close to posting so i'm excited about that. the next part of this will be the last and also the longest i think fyi!

come say hi to me on tumblr @ also-an-art! send me shit about wg/mcyt! about my work! about your day! i love hearing from people :)

Chapter 3: fuckton of pastries

The specific type of jitters that Niki’s having on the way to Schlatt and Quackity’s place she hasn’t felt in a long time. A nervous kind of excitement, a little self conscious- it’s first date jitters, really. Not that this is a date. Because it’s not, it’s. What, a hookup? A threesome? A meal with friends, she supposes. If it could be counted as a meal when Schlatt would be the only one eating. The brown paper bag is heavy in her hand with the sheer volume of baked goods she’s brought. She doesn’t expect Schlatt to finish all of it, not really, but she realizes with a shiver that she's probably never seen him eat to his true capacity, that that level of sheer overindulgence he probably saves for the bedroom. So maybe he will finish it all. It’s a strange thing to ignite thrill in Niki at the thought of, but it’s all a bit strange, so she’s given up on truly questioning it.

She doesn't know how she got here, truly. A little over half a year ago she was tired and beaten down, angry and vengeful, having had her heart thoroughly beaten to the dirt and spit on. She would never allow herself to get vulnerable with someone again. A woman, maybe, but never a man. But her life since then had been filled with such kindness- kindness from Schlatt , of all people, who she’d detested and sworn herself against before- and rage and vengeance were cold and bit cruelly at the cavity of her chest and she couldn’t help but crave something warm. It was so much easier to simply accept the warmth that she was given. And that’s what this seems to her. An invitation to join in the warmth that Schlatt and Quackity had been kindling together.

Or maybe that’s a little too deep. Maybe it’s simply an opportunity to engage in an interest she’d been shoving down the past few months.

Quackity greets her at the door when she knocks, bright faced and with his hair out and loose almost down to his shoulders, a rare sight. Jambo weaves between his legs and lets out an attention-demanding meow before either of them can even say hello.

“Hello, Quackity,” she says, then leans down to stroke Jambo’s head. “And hello, Jambo.”

Jambo licks her hand with a scratchy tongue, then seems to decide that the taste of freedom is a more enticing venture and slips past her to trot outside.

“Can he-?” Niki checks, straightening up to meet Quackity’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah, no, he’s fine,” Quackity assures her. “He’s an outdoor cat, really. He just comes in to sleep somewhere warm and to get pet.”

“And to get fed!” Schlatt’s voice adds from deeper in the house.

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” Quackity scoffs playfully. “Come in, come in.”

Niki does, wiping snow off her shoes on the mat and neatly setting them to the side and brushing off her skirt as she straightens up again. She’d spent an embarrassing amount of time deliberating over what to wear before she’d headed out- she wanted to look good, but not like she was trying to look good, because like she’d covered, it’s not a date, but how was she supposed to know what the protocol for “doing kinky shit with your friend and his boyfriend” is? She’d decided on a pink little shirt and skirt set that Eret had made for her recently, cute but casual enough that it didn’t look like she was trying too hard. Besides, it was stretchy and comfortable, unlike, admittedly, some of her older clothes, since she was no stranger to eating more than she really had to herself, left alone so many hours of the day surrounded by sugar.

“Let me take your coat,” Quackity smiles, shutting the door behind her.

She acquiesces, shrugging it off her shoulders, and switching the hand her bag is in to get it off. Quackity seems to notice the bag for the first time, eyes widening a little.

“Jesus, Niki, how much did you bake?” he marvels, and Niki laughs, flustered.

“Not that much,” she protests. “It’s just also all the leftovers from the day. They will be stale tomorrow, I cannot sell them.”

“So really, I’m just doing you a favor,” Schlatt chuckles, muffled from having his mouth full.

Niki looks at him for the first time since coming in. He’s sitting at their kitchen table, looking big and soft and relaxed as usual, smiling at her as he shovels more of what looks like rice onto his fork.

“Hey, you started without me,” she accuses lightheartedly, gesturing to the bowl.

“Quackity is very insistent that I eat real food before I eat inhuman amounts of sugar, for some reason,” Schlatt says dryly. “I’m almost done, don’t worry.”

“You’ll feel like shit if you eat nothing but pastries for dinner,” Quackity says in a very practiced way, like they’ve had this conversation before. “Besides, rice is still carbs. And I said you had to eat at least one bowl, not three.”

“It would be an awkward amount of leftovers if I didn’t,” Schlatt shoots back, and Quackity laughs.

Niki has heard them argue often. They fight like a married couple, which they will be soon- as soon as it gets warm, they’ve said, because Schlatt had professed that he will not get married while it’s miserable out. It’s a little insane, really, that they can bicker with such clear affection and lack of real edge when Niki used to hear them scream at each other during Manberg. Those memories of them seem so incongruous to the people they are now- especially Schlatt. It goes without saying that he's different now than he was then- all of them are. But it kills her to think that the entire time she hated him, there was this Schlatt just under the surface, too busy being drunk and scared to let himself be soft.

Schlatt scrapes the last of the rice into his mouth and stands to put it in the sink. Niki lets herself trail her gaze down his profile unashamedly for once, but a discovery distracts her from truly taking him in.

“Are you wearing sweatpants?” she asks, surprised and delighted, and Schlatt groans.

“Oh no, my cover is blown,” he deadpans as Quackity laughs. “I do, actually, sometimes enjoy being comfortable in my own home.”

“Sometimes?” Quackity grins. “You hardly ever get dressed unless we’re leaving the house.”

“Hey,” Schlatt snaps lightheartedly as he heads over to join them. “I’m retired, leave me alone.”

Once she’s over her initial shock, Niki decides she very much approves of Schlatt in sweats. She’s used to him well-dressed and sharp, slacks, sleek jackets, button-downs, sometimes strained, sweaters, sometimes too snug. But generally professional, well groomed. This is a much different look than she’s used to- soft-looking t-shirt that hugs his rolls and love-handles, sweatpants hugging the bottom of the curve of his belly. It feels like he looks even bigger and softer like this, nothing straining to hold him in, no need for his seemingly ever-present air of professionalism. He looks cozy. Niki has a wildly romantic thought that she allows herself to entertain of how nice he would be to cuddle.

“It’s different,” she says with a smile. “But I like it. You look good.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt says, almost shyly. “You do too.”

“Thank you,” she giggles, “I feel a bit overdressed.”

“You’ll be underdressed by the end of the night if Schlatt has a say in it,” Quackity says wryly, and Niki feels herself flush as Schlatt scoffs.

“This whole thing was your idea, don't make me the pervert,” Schlatt scoffs, but he’s smiling, and he leans down to kiss Quackity briefly.

Quackity smiles and leans up into him for a moment, and after they break away Schlatt turns to Niki and holds out a hand to her.

“May I?” he asks, and Niki takes his hand and looks to Quackity.

“Oh, go ahead,” he says cheerily.

“He’s getting off on this, don’t worry about him,” Schlatt murmurs as he leans in.

Niki laughs as their lips press together, and kissing him is just as thrilling as it was the first time, last week in the bakery. His stubble scratches her chin slightly in a way that sends her heart beating faster. His other hand finds her waist and pulls her in slightly, and it doesn’t take much distance being closed before the softness of his belly presses up against her, which thrills Niki. It’s a long moment before Schlatt pulls away and turns his attention to the bag Niki had all but forgotten she was holding.

“What’ve you brought?” he asks, and Niki giggles.

“One track mind, yes?” she grins.

Quackity appears at Schlatt’s side, hand finding the sliver of skin showing between his t-shirt and sweatpants.

“He certainly has one,” he grins. “C’mon, let’s head upstairs.”

Upstairs. Oh Lord . Niki still can’t believe she’s doing this, she notes as she follows them up to their bedroom. Not because it’s a bad decision- Niki has been there in terms of flings. She’s thrown herself into things she knew were going to end in fiery explosions- sometimes emotionally, sometimes literally. But she knows this is a safe decision to make. It just all seems so unreal- that a passing fantasy, a moment of foolish longing that she would immediately squash when she saw Schlatt bringing a bite to his lips, or the pull of his buttons on a too-tight shirt. She can’t believe she’s being afforded something so self-indulgent.

Though, she supposes, self-indulgence seems to be Schlatt’s new brand, and he wears it well. This is all too evident as he immediately settles himself against the headboard of his massive bed when they get inside, sprawled out like a luxurious king waiting to be fed grapes. He looks unfairly handsome like this, Niki decides. He’s always been handsome, sure. Back in the Manberg days, it was a dark kind of handsome, all sharp lines and cigarette smoke and dark circles and scowls- the same kind of dangerous handsomeness Wilbur had at the same time. But now, Niki’s brain keeps circling back to the imagery of him as royal- hair longer, curls framing his rounder face so well, his shoulders broad, an easy-going kind of cheeriness, everything so soft. Even as dressed down as he is, there’s still something about him that seems to say expensive. Niki has a fleeting thought of how much money she’s probably wasted shoving free baked goods at him. She doesn’t regret a single bit of it.

“You’re starin’, Niki,” Schlatt grins, and Niki feels herself flush.

“Can you blame her?” Quackity hums, getting onto the bed himself. “Come on up.”

Niki does, a little inelegantly in her haste, and finds herself situated on the opposite side of Schlatt from Quackity. She hauls the bag up with her, and Schlatt takes it to set it between his legs and open it up.

“Jesus,” he says as he peeks inside.

“I did not know how much you wanted!” Niki protests. “I was told to bring, and I quote you, ‘a fuck-ton of baked goods’. I do not know how much that warrants.”

“No, no, this is definitely a fuck-ton of baked goods,” Schlatt assures her, taking out a tart near the top. “Did you make these all today?”

“It’s my job, Schlatt,” Niki says, a little self-consciously. “I just made a little extra. I normally have leftovers at the end of the day. I just always throw them to the woods for the animals. Or. Eat them myself, to be honest.”

She absently brings a hand to her stomach as she says that, then flushes a little more and pulls it away. It’s not something she's ashamed of, the fact that she’s gained some weight, and it would be foolish to be in the present company, but the topic flusters her anyways. Maybe for the same reason that talking about Schlatt’s weight flusters her, or maybe just because it's so new. For whatever reason, the slight embarrassment fades when Schlatt simply chuckles.

“Occupational hazard, I’m sure,” he grins, then pops the tart in his mouth. “Oh, this is good.”

“I don't think you’ve ever said anything less about anything Niki’s made,” Quackity points out, taking out another tart from the bag. “Open.”

“Goddamn, can I chew?” Schlatt complains around a mouthful, but opens in a moment anyways.

Quackity presses the second tart into his mouth, and Schlatt’s laugh is muffled as his cheeks bulge in an effort to hold both pastries at once. He takes a moment to chew and swallow, then sighs contently.

“More, please,” he says, and the request is casual, but it clearly has the same effect on both Niki and Quackity, like they’re both attached to the same electrical circuit that’s just been turned on. “Just one this time, dickhead.”

Quackity laughs and glances over to Niki, gesturing to the bag.

“You’re the guest,” he says.

Niki selects another tart from the bag carefully, trying to hide her frankly ridiculous level of excitement. There are lots of the tarts sitting at the top of the bag- they’re bite-sized and variable, easy to make in big batches, and she figured they’d be good for hand-feeding. She decides she's right, as she places it in Schlatt’s mouth, and he teasingly closes his lips around her thumb for a moment before sitting back. The simple act of it, just the act of him eating from her hands, seems so ridiculously intimate. There’s something to be said about the care of it, Niki supposes. She pushes her pastries onto everyone- something about people enjoying something that she’s made for them makes her feel as if she’s warming herself in front of an open oven. It’s not normally because it makes her feel like this. There’s still heat there, but a much different kind, pooling low in her stomach and between her legs at the idea of hand-feeding Schlatt every last goddamn pastry in this bag.

“Oh, by the way,” Quackity says, snapping his fingers like he’s just remembered something. “His safeword is whiskey. Or tapping twice, if he can’t speak. If he uses it, then stop, but otherwise, any whining is purely because he wants attention.”

“You love my whining,” Schlatt grins, and Quackity shoves another tart in his mouth in retaliation.

They fall into a surprisingly natural rhythm almost immediately. Niki was worried that it would be awkward, both with her joining their already established relationship dynamic, especially with the added element of this whole world of food and kink that she’s so new to. But it feels comfortable and right, in the same way Schlatt managed to make the whole thing with the cookies last week feel natural. It was strange. It was strange, how the heat inside her grows with every time Schlatt’s lips brush against her fingers. But who cares? Isn't all of this? Isn't it strange that a year ago today she was cold and angry and prepped for battle at any moment and idolized Wilbur Soot and wanted Schlatt dead, and yet here she was, baking treats to feed him in a warm, reformed new L’manberg? So whatever. So lean into the strangeness. She’s stopped questioning it.

The minutes pass and Schlatt breezes through the tarts easily, her and Quackity trading off feeding him them until they’re gone. She's the one to notice it, reaching for another and digging around some before announcing,

“No more tarts.”

“That was fast,” Quackity notes, patting Schlatt’s belly approvingly. “Good boy.”

Schlatt clearly enjoys the praise, humming a little pleasantly as he wipes his mouth.

“It’s easy to go fast with two of you,” he says. “Can hardly catch a breath.”

“That’s the idea, now, isn’t it?” Quackity grins, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Gotta keep you well fed.”

“He’s practically wasting away,” Niki giggles.

“Exactly,” Schlatt agrees, sitting up to peer into the bag. “Are those the cream puffs you made last week?”

“Yes- well, I made them today,” Niki clarifies. “You told me you liked them.”

“He did,” Quackity agrees, reaching in to pull one out and feed it to him. “You should’ve heard him, moaning like they were sucking his dick.”

“No, that was you who was sucking my-”

Schlatt’s dry remark is cut off with the pastry being shoved in his mouth, an effective method, it seems. Niki laughs at the exchange, but can’t help but imagine that, a thought that seems too crude to allow herself, but she does anyway. Schlatt with his mouth full, Quackity with his mouth full- Schlatt groaning from either fullness or arousal. Jesus. Fuck. She shifts a little, reaching for another cream puff to distract herself from getting too carried away. No need for fantasies when this was right here.

Feeding Schlatt the cream puffs is a ridiculously erotic experience. Between the obvious suggestiveness of the cream, Quackity isn’t lying in his description of Schlatt’s moans. His little noises of approval, paired with the eye contact he holds with her when she holds each of hers up to his lips, paired with the insistent, needy way he asks “are there more?” when she falters in the rhythm and doesn’t have one ready when it’s her turn have her thoroughly undone in a way she tries to make as quiet as possible. By the time they get through the cream puffs, Schlatt’s a little more slouched back, t-shirt riding up a little. She informs him that was the last of those and he groans a little in relief, then muffles a burp into his fist.

“They’re so good, but they’re so thick,” he sighs.

And Christ, they are, Niki knows that, she can hardly get through two of them on her own and she’s got a massive sweet tooth, not that anyone’s could rival Schlatt’s. And Schlatt’s just eaten six of them without pause, after probably a dozen tarts, and three bowls of rice, and God knows what else that day, and he’s going to eat more , and Niki lets that really hit her.

“You are-” she breathes, and she doesn’t know quite the word. “Impressive.”

“He’s a glutton, is what he is,” Quackity says with the utmost fondness, squeezing his belly and dislodging another burp.

“Yeah, yeah,” Schlatt grins. “What else you got for me, Niki?”

Niki peers into the bag, digging around some.

“Um,” she says. “There’s some lemon squares, macaroons, brownies-”

“Your pick,” he sighs contently.

It doesn’t hit Niki just how much she’d brought until she’s handfeeding it to him. Despite the steady rate he’s eating at, Niki and Quackity making sure he’s always got another bite waiting when he finishes the one before, there’s still a hefty amount left in the bag, and she has a sudden material understanding of how the heaviness of the bag correlates directly to how heavy Schlatt’s gut is going to be after all this. Fuck . Her mind races with that with every morsel she presses into his mouth for the next ten, twenty minutes, until Schlatt swallows a caramel macaroon Quackity feeds him and flinches as he hiccups, hard.

“Fuck, that hurts,” he hisses, hand going to his belly to steady it as another hiccup jolts it. “Christ.”

“Ate too fast?” Quackity asks sweetly, as if he wasn’t the exact cause of him eating too fast.

“God, I’ve barely- hic- fuck me,” Schlatt groans. “I need something to drink. Whiskey. Hah! I didn’t even mean to-”

He’s cut off with another hiccup and slumps back in defeat, hand on his belly protectively.

“Poor thing,” Quackity purrs, leaning in to press a kiss on top of the swell of it. “I’ll get you some water. Niki, look after him, alright?”

Niki nods dutifully, and as Quackity leaves, turns her attention to Schlatt.

“What can I do?” she asks softly.

Schlatt hiccups again as he takes her hand and gently presses it to the space above his navel. She can feel how taut he is there, under the soft layer of fat, just how full nearly two-thirds of the massive bag has gotten him. It must’ve been a pound of pastries. At least. Lord knows how many cups of sugar, how many calories- Niki has a wild thought that this night alone may add the slightest bit of permanent pudge to his waistline, the number on the scale moved up one just because of her. God. She moves her hand carefully, pressing gentle circles into him, drawing up a rumbling burp that he sighs and hiccups after.

“I can’t believe…” Niki murmurs, then shakes her head.

“No, go on,” Schlatt breathes. “I want- hic - I want to hear it.”

“I can’t believe how big you’ve gotten,” she finishes, reverently. “I can’t believe how much you can eat.”

“Me neither, sometimes,” he chuckles.

“I remember the first time you came into the bakery,” she says, continuing to gently rub at the expanse of him. “When you said you wanted to make things up to me. Everything I told you that you could eat, you ate it. I thought you were going to make yourself sick. And you were so skinny back then. It was, what, August? It was not even that long ago.”

“It really wasn’t,” Schlatt sighs, sounding a little pleased with himself. “It’s a little insane. I didn’t even mean to gain weight at first. Not that I’m - hic- really trying now, either. I just. Eat what I want. Which is a lot.”

“I know,” Niki smiles, and after hesitating for a moment, leans down to kiss the most bloated part of him how Quackity did. “I’m glad you enjoy yourself.”

“I am,” Schlatt hums. “I’ve always wanted. Too much of everything, I think. Not to get all deep. It's nice to be able to just- hic- have what I want. And have people like it, instead of being hurt by it.”

“That makes sense,” Niki says softly.

It’s then when Quackity returns with a pitcher of water and a glass, and once Schlatt gets that down, his hiccups seem to be soothed, and he asks for more in a whine that seems to have just as much of an effect on Quackity as it does on Niki. He’s eating a little slower now, and Niki has watched him stuff himself enough without the context being kinky in any manner to know that he’s getting very full, breaths becoming shallower and pausing to burp more often. After they’ve finished the macaroons he pauses to untie his sweatpants and lets Quackity tuck the waistband under his belly which, along with his shirt having ridden up, reveals a good part of his swollen stomach, stretchmarked and round and gorgeous. Quackity keeps a hand on it casually as they make their way through the brownies, gently massaging his fingers into the plush fat, and Niki can’t decide whether to focus her attention on that sight or on Schlatt continuing to eat, on the little overstuffed moans that have started escaping him.

“Tell me there’s not much left,” he pants when they’re finished with the brownies.

“Not much,” Niki assures him gently.

“You feel so full,” Quackity murmurs, lifting his stomach gently and drawing up a belch.

“Look it, too,” Niki giggles.

Schlatt squirms a little, under the teasing or out of fullness.

“I am,” he groans. “Please-”

“Please what?” Quackity hums. “Surely you’re not asking for more. ”

Schlatt simply turns his gaze to Niki, eyes half-lidded and dark with want, and she shivers at the intensity of it. She looks into the bag and finds they’re at the last layer, made up of half a dozen sugar cookies, frosted in buttercream like Schlatt liked. She picks one up and holds it up to his lips, softly promising,

“Almost done. Finish for me?”

The “for me ” seems to have an effect on Schlatt, his breath hitching and triggering a thankfully lone hiccup. He nods a little, looking almost dazed from the amount of sugar already in him, and takes a bite of the cookie, moaning a little in approval or arousal, one of the two. It’s all connected, really, his fullness and his arousal and Niki’s arousal and Quackity’s arousal. He’s turned on because he’s stuffed, he’s stuffed because he’s turned on, because they’re turned on, and it's all just a mess of hedonism and greed in a bafflingly soft and romantic sense.

Niki’s seen Schlatt overindulged, she reminisces as he slowly makes his way through the cookies under her and Quackity’s coaxing. She’d seen him finish a whole bottle of whiskey over the course of a Manberg council meeting, disgusted and shocked every time he managed to drink more . She's seen him so overindulged that Quackity and George had to drag him back to the White House, leaning heavily on a vice president on each arm, hiccuping and groaning not unlike he’s doing now. She'd hated him for it then. She loved him for it now. It was all very ironic and perhaps poetic in its irony, and she could have thought more about it if she wasn't so busy being painfully turned on by the sight in front of her.

By the time Schlatt finishes the last cookie he looks big , big like Niki’s never seen him, slumped back against the pillows at the headboard with his belly impossibly round and taught, clearly visible even despite the gut he’d already had when he'd started. It heaves as he breathes heavily, too stuffed to get a full breath, and Niki and Quackity’s hands brush against each other as they both immediately report to their duty of rubbing it, soothing him, praising him, rewarding him for his hard work.

Niki had thought that perhaps it would end there. That she'd done her duty, supplied the baked goods and helped her get them all into Schlatt’s stomach as effectively as possible, and now she’d duck out to leave the couple to do their thing and deal with the heat between her legs on her own time. But Schlatt whines out for someone to please touch him as soon as he can speak again and Quackity asks her if she wants to do the honors and God, does she. She gets Schlatt off carefully, trying not to shake his overworked belly, and Quackity gets himself off on the sight of them. When the two of them are finished, she wholeheartedly expects that to be the end of it, but instead Schlatt’s hands find her hips and pull her in and murmurs something about letting him have one last taste of something sweet of hers, which she would've scoffed at if she wasn't so aroused.

And then she comes from a man getting her off for the first time in her life, so that's definitely a plus.

She expects, surely, that that’s the end of all of it, that now she’ll take the walk of shame home. But instead Schlatt gives her the most earnest face as Quackity's cleaning him up and pleads,

“You’re not leaving now, are you?”

“He always gets clingy after sex,” Quackity chuckles fondly. “You can stay if you’d like, Niki.”

“I-” Niki hesitates, only because it seems like such a ridiculous luxury to afford herself on top of everything else. “I haven't got any sleep clothes.”

And so she ends up in one of Schlatt’s t-shirts, which is giant on her, curled up at his side with her head on his broad chest and a hand on his stuffed belly. She was right in her assumption that Schlatt is extraordinarily good to cuddle. Quackity’s on the other side of him, mirroring her position, and he hums something about how spoiled Schlatt is, which Schlatt only makes a drowsy noise of agreement in response to.

Niki thinks she feels pretty damn spoiled herself.

Notes:

oh my LORD has life gotten busy plus i am miserably sick but if you think that's stopping me from writing tummy. you are WRONG so thank you for your patience i know it's been a little longer than usual :)

yes i am a c!niki/c!schlatt truther. yes it makes no canonical sense. i don't know why i'm here either

come say hi on tumblr @ also-an-art! i don't bite hehe

Notes:

so this was originally supposed to be a one-shot but i love my little indulgent wg universe and i have no self control so i didn't actually get to the threesome yet. whoops. it's coming i swear LOL the next part should be up within a week? ish?

i have a tumblr now!! i have literally nothing on it lmao i don't know how tumblr works to be completely honest but it's there @ also-an-art !! come say hi or give me ur mcyt/wg thoughts :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 3 of hungry work(s)