Tis Only A Vore Blog

27/ Just posting vore fics, along with unhinged thoughts before disappearing back into the abyss

[trashytummies]

Hi hi! I didn’t really know what to do with a lot of my abandoned fics, so rather than just letting them collect dust, I decided to post them for anyone interested! Especially because I know how difficult it could be to find vore fics for specific fandoms. I hope this blog serves somebody’s interest!

[trashytummies]

I lied, this is my new main vore/gt blog lol -- I basically write based on my latest hyperfixartions, rn it's DC.

My old one will still exist for reblogs :) (old blog is @smol-and-trashy)

[trashytummies]

Hello!!! I'm not dead but I've been utterly swamped with work (and my secondary job) with very little free time. I need to get back into writing fics ;_;. I have some very beloved OCs that I've been tinkering with, but nothing long/edited has come into fruition yet 😔.

Also - still super into DC lately and Nightwing + Denys Cowan on art is gonna be PEAKKKK

[thefanciestborrower]

You know, I think I understand why it’s so hard to make proper found family stuff with the Justice League. They all have their own lives and such separate from being a hero, and a lot of them don’t even get along that well. They’re more like found coworkers than anything else.

But wow the Avengers on the other hand…that’s a family. They all tend to actually live together for one, and seem to be much better at being at least a little bit emotionally vulnerable with each other than any of the league.

All that to say I just desperately need to see the Avengers being way more domestic coupled with a very casual use of powers okay? Steve straight up lifting the couch so he can vacuum under it (he loves vacuums and will fight for that chore), Hank casually growing a few feet to reach something from a top shelf or just because he likes feeling tall, Jan spending her time perched on Hulk’s shoulder all itty bitty while he games with Clint. Just…..domestic things like that. I need it desperately

[trashytummies]

bruh i wish merrily was still on broadway :( i miss it

[trashytummies]

Everyone says Dick!Robin is angsty and Jason!Robin is pure but after reading all of the Silver Age comics. Bruh. Dick!Robin is very very very much like that Adam West movie and series, like if you don't like comics, watch that and it's uncanny. So much war propaganda too (at least in the comic) but I'm not going to get into that. But Jason!Robin was... he was something else. Pre!Crisis, he was Dick 2.0, but post!Crisis, he became something of himself. He was a more horny, hot-tempered Dick.

Not horny-horny, but he acted very much like an adolescent boy.

[trashytummies]

If you time travel and get vored, does your present self remember it? (DC short vore drabble)

—————-

Somewhere, in some other version of reality, his future self was out there — living his life, fighting his battles, completely unaware of the absolute nightmare his past self was going through.

Or maybe he was aware.

Maybe one day, he’d wake up in a cold sweat, some long-buried memory surfacing as nothing more than a vague, horrifying dream.

Jason almost snorted.

Good.

Let that future version of himself suffer with the knowledge.

Because Jason sure as hell was suffering now.

[trashytummies]

batfam vore crack

a/n: this is way longer than i thought and so ooc lmaooo -- idk bruce can somehow shrink ppl and they can't digest bc dense molecules or somethin, pretend it makes sense bc i didn't really think it thru lol.

-----

Bruce walked in, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up --classic trying-to-pretend-he’s-normal Bruce-- but Jason’s sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in his posture. A slight tightness in the way he carried himself, his usually flat stomach curving outward ever so slightly beneath his shirt.

Jason blinked, fork pausing mid-air. His mind connected the dots in a blaze of growing dread.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Jason muttered, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair. "You’ve got to be kidding me." He jabbed his fork toward Bruce’s middle. “Tell me you’re not doing that thing again.”

Bruce, with all the casual gravitas of a man discussing a board meeting, replied, “It’s efficient.”

“Efficient, my ass!” Jason’s chair scraped back as he stood, waving his hands. “We’re not some--some army of joeys for you to carry around like a freaking marsupial!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t this resistant before.”

Jason scoffed, pacing away. “Oh, you mean when I was thirteen and didn’t know better? Sure, B, back when I still thought it was cool that Batman could turn into a one-man escape pod.” His voice dropped into a mocking lilt. “‘Oh wow, Bruce, your stomach’s so warm and soft, thanks for saving me from those assassins!’” He spun to face Bruce again. “Yeah, pass.”

Bruce was silent, watching Jason with that infuriating patience of his. It only made Jason’s skin crawl more, his unease growing as he remembered the last time he’d been in there. A bad night after a bad mission. Nightmares. His mother. Bruce offering a solution -- an unorthodox one, but it had worked.

And Jason had hated that it worked.

“Not happening, Bruce,” Jason said firmly, shaking off the memory. “I’m too old for this crap. And, frankly, it’s weird. Just use the Batplane to transport people like a normal person.”

Bruce sighed, stepping closer, his shadow swallowing Jason’s smaller frame. “Jason,” he said, voice low and steady, “I know you don’t like it. But it’s safer. You’ve been reckless lately. If something goes wrong--”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bruce!” Jason snapped.

Bruce’s gaze softened, just slightly, in that way that always threw Jason off. “I’m not saying you’re a kid. But you’re still family.”

Jason flinched. Damn Bruce and his emotional sucker punches. He looked away, jaw tightening. “Family, huh? You sure about that? ‘Cause last I checked, family doesn’t shove each other into their guts.”

“Dick accepted it,” Bruce said evenly.

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course, he accepted it -- he probably volunteered. Probably climbed in with a big, dumb smile like, ‘Gee, Bruce, this is so innovative!’”

“He said it was comfortable,” Bruce deadpanned.

Jason gawked. “He said what? Oh, that’s it. I’m out. Dinner was great --props to Alfie-- but I’m done. Bye.” He turned to leave, boots thudding against the hardwood.

But Bruce was faster.

Jason barely had time to curse before the flash zapped him, and the world tilted. One moment, he was storming toward the door. The next, he was tiny. Like couple inches-tall tiny.

And, to his horror, Bruce was already reaching for him.

“Oh, hell no! Bruce, don’t you--”

****************************

“Hey, Jaybird!” Dick grinned, throwing up a hand like they’d just bumped into each other on a street corner instead of, you know, inside Bruce’s stomach.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason jabbed a finger toward him.

“Oh, you know, just the usual family bonding stuff.” Dick shrugged, his grin widening. “Came for the ambiance, stayed for the company.”

“Don’t you dare laugh this off--"

“I’m not laughing!” Dick said, holding his hands up defensively, though his tone was anything but serious. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Jason let out a growl of frustration, kicking the water at his feet, though it only ended up splashing onto his own legs. “You are such a--”

“Jason?”

That voice was smaller, softer, and Jason turned to see Tim standing a little further away, looking tiny as hell next to Dick. His arms were crossed tightly, his whole posture screaming discomfort.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jason threw his arms out. “You’re here, too? What, did Bruce swallow all of you before dinner?”

“Not all of us,” came a sharp, clipped voice from somewhere behind Tim.

Jason peered around him and spotted Damian, perched on a high ridge, looking irritated beyond belief.

Jason blinked, then barked out a laugh. “Oh, great. The whole circus. Wonderful.” He threw a hand toward Dick. “Let me guess, this was your idea.”

Dick didn’t deny it, which only made Jason more annoyed. Instead, he clapped his hands, the sound oddly muted by their surroundings. “Look, before you freak out--”

“I’m already freaking out!”

“--this is a trust-building exercise!”

Jason stared at him. So did Tim. Damian muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “idiot” under his breath.

“A what?” Jason said, voice dangerously low.

“A trust-building exercise,” Dick repeated brightly. “Think about it--Bruce clearly trusts us with his life, or he wouldn’t let us in here.”

“He didn’t let us in here. He ate us,” Jason shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the fleshy ceiling.

“Semantics,” Dick said with a grin.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Look, it’s not just about trust,” Dick went on, ignoring Jason’s rising blood pressure. “It’s about contingencies. Think about it -- what if we get separated in the field? What if something like this happens for real? Wouldn’t you rather have this experience under your belt?”

“No!” Tim and Jason snapped in unison.

[pancakewithsprinkles-deactivate]

[trashytummies]

Guyssss

It just struck me how little batfam g/t and vore stuff there is 😭😭😭

(I wanted to read some fics today but there’s like 5 max and then the rest are like super nsfw rip)

[trashytummies]

Not going to expand on this but was just thinking what a sensory hell a stomach would be. Like so so much is going on movement-wise, touch/feeling-wise, smell and auditory-wise. My ADHD ass would be suffering 💀💀💀

[trashytummies]

have a taste :)

The textures, the sounds -- it was an assault on every one of his senses. The walls around him pulsed rhythmically, squeezing and kneading him forward as if mocking his attempts to hold his ground. The liquid-y muck sloshed and bubbled, warm and slimy against his skin, and the noise of digestion was deafening.

“This isn’t a voyage,” Tim muttered bitterly, trying to climb out of the sticky sludge pooling around his legs. “It’s a death march.”

[trashytummies]

Not going to expand on this but was just thinking what a sensory hell a stomach would be. Like so so much is going on movement-wise, touch/feeling-wise, smell and auditory-wise. My ADHD ass would be suffering 💀💀💀

[trashytummies]

Idk kinda wanna write something vorish with Jason being mad dramatic back when he fought Tim in the titans tower

Like Timmy ends up shrinking to mere inches tall, he’s a size shifter and tends to shrink depending on his moods/emotional state, Jason blinks down at the newly 3-inch person that he tried to kill like what the hell.

[trashytummies]

Swallowed Pride (DC vore fic)

a/n: have a protective Nightwing ft. unwilling Jason prey vore fic. lil batfamily vibsey <3. oh and jason also has some not fun memories of dying. I adore vore fics with swapping perspectives so I'm sorry if this is confusing ;_; word count: ~4100?

_____

Jason groaned, a low rasp slipping out of his throat. His surroundings pulsed with a damp, oppressive heat that clawed at his skin, slicking his gloves and making it almost impossible to catch his breath. His ribs ached, and every inch of him felt trapped in this unrelenting, humid vise. He tried to shift, to get his back against something solid, but every motion was swallowed up, met with a suffocating resistance.

"Alright," he muttered, voice hoarse. “This is… new.”

The taste in the air was wrong. A grimace twisted his face as he tried to shift, finding no space to move, wedged between layers of damp, fleshy walls. Not rock. Not exactly wet stone, either. Just too soft. Too warm.

Not rubble. Nothing jagged. Smooth. 

The sound of his own breathing grew louder, rasping in and out as he tried to twist himself free. But all he managed was to slide further down this bizarre chute. A flicker of panic flashed across his mind, sharp and unwelcome. It tugged at something buried deep, something he didn’t let himself think about, ever. But it was there now; the sensation of heat, tightness, the press of earth and smoke. Like that day. Like-- 

No. Nope, he wasn’t doing that. Not thinking about that, not now.

His mind buzzed, digging through memories. He’d been with the team; Red, Nightwing, and yeah, of course, Bats. The mission had gotten a little out of hand; Tim needed backup, and -- then what? Everything between then and now was a haze. A big, dripping, burning haze.

Jason tried to focus, replaying the moments just before; the alley, then that abandoned office building, and then… nothing. And now this cave-like, sweltering pit. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, smearing against his mask as he twisted, trying to plant his knees against something solid. Every breath felt like he was sucking down steam, heat pressing on him from every angle.

"Okay, Todd. Get it together. Think.” He glanced around --or tried to, anyway, but there was no way to tell which way was up or down. Just that same smooth, slimy pressure squeezing in on all sides, his own breaths coming back hot against his face.

“Hey, anyone out there?” he called, the words half-lost in the wet slap of whatever lined this... place. But all he got was a soft, rhythmic groan surrounding him, almost like a heartbeat, steady and smothering.

Another wave of pressure tightened around him, shoving him further into the suffocating darkness. His heart pounded, thoughts scattering like shrapnel, sharp and fast. Buried alive. That sick, clawing sensation washed over him, dredging up memories he had no intention of revisiting. Explosions. Dirt pressing in on him, the weight of concrete and metal trapping him, his own voice screaming for help, and--

No. Not now.

He gritted his teeth, frustration biting deep. “Red? Wing? I swear, if you two left me in a sewer pipe or something...” He twisted his head, grumbling to himself, but everything came out muffled, absorbed by this pulsing, humid space.

_________________________

Rewind 

Rewind

Rewind

The scene swirled back into focus, through the last thirty chaotic minutes that landed on the exact moment Dick realized something was really wrong.

Jason was supposed to be covering the south side, running point with Tim across the courtyard. But when Dick looked back after clearing a corner, he’d caught sight of Jason crumpling, mid-swing, into the pavement. Jason wasn’t just down; he was tiny. Like, two inches max, knocked out cold, and sprawled out on the ground.

Dick’s jaw had practically hit the rooftop. “Holy shit,” he hissed, blinking hard like maybe he’d just taken a hit to the head himself.

Nope.

That was definitely Jason, definitely bite-sized, and lying defenseless in the middle of Gotham’s grimiest alley. He barely had time to process it, and he was not about to leave Jason sitting in the gutter like some abandoned Happy Meal toy.

Okay, Grayson. Think.

He glanced down at his suit, mentally running through every hidden pocket and compartment. Utility belt? No way -- too much jostling. The pocket lining would probably suffocate the guy, or worse, turn him into shrunken pulp if Dick took a hit. Same with any of his stash spots. Then the next best thought crossed his mind -- and immediately died a fiery death.

But hell, with the goons doubling back, any hesitation could leave Jason vulnerable, or worse. He had seconds to act.

So he did something that, in his defense, seemed like the only solution in the moment.

One quick breath, and he scooped Jason up, tipping him carefully onto his tongue. Jason’s tiny body felt solid, almost surprisingly weighty, considering his new size. Dick hesitated, the reality of this insane decision finally hitting home. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, and with the gentlest nudge, he swallowed.

It was, well, uncomfortable didn’t even start to cover it. Jason slipped down in a slow, thick slide, an odd pressure that made Dick grit his teeth. Each inch felt painfully deliberate, his throat constricting around Jason’s shape until he finally, mercifully, settled in place. Dick coughed, trying to compose himself just in time to hear Tim's footsteps against the concrete as he caught up.

“Dick!” Tim called, eyes scanning him over, then narrowing. “What the hell was that?”

Dick barely managed to suppress another cough, swallowing hard. “What was what?” he choked out, voice barely steady.

Tim’s brow arched, skeptical, like he’d seen through every bullshit excuse Dick had ever tried in his entire life. “I saw you cough up a lung. And you’re still flushed. Look, if you’ve got something going on with your suit tech or whatever--”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dick cut in, waving it off, trying to play up his usual charm. He gave Tim a reassuring, if slightly strained, grin. “Just--went down the wrong pipe. Happens to the best of us, right?”

Tim looked at him for a long second, head tilted, the gears clearly turning. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Dick cleared his throat one more time for emphasis. “Trust me, if I had something important to tell you, I’d tell you. Now, can we focus? There’s still three of them left.” He jerked his thumb toward the next building. “I’ll take the high ground. You flush them out?”

Tim still looked at him sideways, but he gave a reluctant nod, his gaze flicking down to Dick’s throat once more before turning back to the mission. “Fine, but if you pass out mid-jump or whatever, I’m telling Babs.”

Dick barely restrained a wince, waving Tim off as he darted toward the next alleyway. One hour, tops, he told himself. Just get the job done, clear out the area, and get Jason out safely before he has a chance to do more than mumble a few pissed-off words.

“Hang tight, Jaybird,” he muttered under his breath.

_______________________

The tight, slick walls squeezed in around him, pressing at his shoulders and ribs, forcing him to push forward just to breathe. Every inch he gained seemed to make it worse --the stifling heat, the reek of rot, like old food left out too long. Jason sucked in a shallow breath, trying to steady himself, only for the sour stench to claw at his throat. He grimaced.

"Great," he muttered, voice muffled and weak in the humid dark. "I get to suffocate and smell like someone’s garbage disposal. Just my luck."

He shoved forward, the cramped space finally loosening just enough for him to wriggle through, half crawling, half dragged along by whatever was coating these walls. He pushed his hands out and found --thank god-- something resembling open space. Not by much, but he could almost stretch out his arms, which had to count for something.

Except it didn’t. If anything, it was somehow worse in here.

The stench punched him square in the gut, stomach-churning in a way that brought back memories he’d worked pretty damn hard to bury. The heat. The way it pressed down on him, cloying, sticky, unyielding. The dark was so thick it was like he could feel it pressing in on his skin. Too close to those old memories. Too close to the kind of helpless that made his chest feel like it might cave in.

Jason let out a low, shaky breath, pressing his palm to the wall for some semblance of stability. "Come on, Todd. Focus. Think." He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to training, his instincts settling in. What the hell even is this place? The entire thing was soft, slick, like… flesh.

“Okay, no, that’s insane. I’m not…” He swallowed, panic prickling at the edges of his mind. But the clues pieced together too neatly, each one sliding in like a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. The walls, the cramped squeeze, the pulsing, muffled beat that droned around him like a heartbeat. His mind filled in the blanks faster than he wanted, and all at once, the truth slammed into him, cold and hard.

I’m in a stomach.

A stomach. A literal fucking stomach.

The idea hit him with a nauseating kind of clarity that almost made him laugh. He’d been trained by the world’s greatest detective, could read Gotham’s dirtbags better than most, and now he was trapped here, in someone’s gut, like the punchline to a twisted joke he never asked for.

He blinked, swallowing down a rush of bile. “So that’s it, huh?” he rasped, pressing his back to the fleshy wall, the whole setup feeling like some cruel rerun of a life he’d already lived. “I got blown up once. Came back, just to get tossed down the gullet. Nice. Really nice, universe. I appreciate it.”

The walls around him pulsed again, contracting in a slow, smothering rhythm, dragging his thoughts to that dark corner of his mind he tried to keep locked away. Buried alive. Alone. Left for dead. Panic tried clawing its way up his throat, but he shoved it down, clenching his fists until his gloves squeaked against the slick wall. Not like this.

No way he was letting some freak’s digestive tract do him in.

________________________________

Dick ducked under a swinging fist, pivoting out of the way with practiced ease. But the moment he twisted, a sudden sharp scratch clawed up from the pit of his stomach. He doubled over, a hand instinctively pressing against his abdomen, muttering under his breath.

“Oh, so you’re awake,” he grunted, voice low enough to avoid Tim’s ears but sharp enough to keep his irritation real. “And apparently pissed off.”

Jason gave another few furious kicks --or punches, maybe a full-body tantrum-- against the walls of Dick’s stomach, which only made him wince harder. Man, this is… Well, it was something. Distracting as hell, actually, when he was in the middle of a brawl with some of Gotham’s least creative henchmen.

Tim’s eyes zeroed in on him, skeptical, a hard squint as he landed a punch and sidled up. “Uh, you good? ‘Cause you’re making faces like you just ate bad sushi.”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little… stomach thing,” Dick managed, breath catching as Jason squirmed again. He leaned into his strikes, using the motion to cover a particularly sharp jab coming from inside.

Tim just kept staring, a brow arching. “In the middle of a fight? You’re usually more… I dunno. Here.”

“I am here,” Dick muttered through clenched teeth, grabbing the last thug by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall. Jason gave one last pointed kick that nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he couldn’t help it -- his hand went to his stomach again. He tried to school his face, look normal, like he wasn’t dealing with a very angry, very miniature Jason Todd wreaking havoc from within.

The final goon dropped, and before Dick could so much as take a breath, Tim was right there, narrowing his eyes in that too-perceptive way he always did when he suspected something was up.

“Alright,” Tim said, crossing his arms, his usual calm replaced with the full-blown Red Robin glare. “Mind telling me what’s going on with you tonight? I’m standing there, fighting for my life, and you’re out here rubbing your stomach like you’re at a bad buffet.” He tilted his head, lowering his voice. “And where the hell is Jason? He just up and left us? Doesn’t strike me as his style.”

Dick stifled the urge to cough again, glancing away to avoid Tim’s piercing gaze. Damn it, he’s good at this. “Maybe he had somewhere else to be,” he said, attempting casual. “You know how he is. Doesn’t tell us everything.”

Tim’s eyebrow crept higher, skepticism practically radiating off him. “He doesn’t tell Bruce everything, but he doesn’t just disappear mid-mission with no heads-up. I get he’s Jason, but this is Gotham. And you’re… weirdly calm about it.”

Dick forced a quick shrug, looking anywhere but Tim’s face. “Maybe I just trust him to handle himself.” He winced as Jason scratched at him again, pressing his hand to his side as subtly as he could. “Ow-- I mean, what? You know, he’s--he’s Jason.”

Tim folded his arms tighter, a smirk quirking at his lips. “And you’re stammering like you’ve got a guilty conscience. What gives?”

Dick could feel his cover slipping fast, and he knew he’d have to come up with something, and soon. For now, he just put on his best carefree grin, hoping it was enough to get Tim to lay off.

_______________________________

The reality of his situation settled in slowly, like the world's worst punchline unfurling in slow motion. Inside a stomach. He could practically feel the bile rising. Yeah, Jason Todd had been through his share of nightmares, but this was a new low even for him. Of all the places to wind up, he’d somehow managed to get himself swallowed. Just phenomenal.

"Just where I always wanted to end up," he muttered to himself, voice barely a whisper against the damp walls pressing around him. "A one-way ticket back to near-death, and for what? One more brush with the great beyond? Because dying was just such a blast the first time.”

He took a breath, trying to steady himself against the rippling walls, feeling the clench and pull of the gut as it tried to drag him deeper. He stifled a gag, the acrid stench of half-digested food coating every breath he took. Focus, Todd. Don’t think about the smell. Or the rotting mush sliding under his feet. Or that disgusting, rhythmic gurgle echoing in his ears like a twisted lullaby.

Alright, let's see if he could at least figure out who this idiot was. He couldn’t tell much by sound -- the voice was muted, a low vibration rumbling around him like he was underwater, though he could at least pick out a male inflection. But he couldn’t just be in some random guy’s gut, right? There was someone out there with a reason to swallow the Red Hood, and… actually, nope. Scratch that. He couldn’t think of a single person willing or twisted enough to get him into this mess.

Well, almost no one.

The last thing he remembered was dealing with Clayface’s thugs, swinging punches alongside Nightwing and Red Robin. He’d been right there with them, taking out the stragglers and rounding up the goons. And then… well, then things got fuzzy. Had he been teleported? Knocked out? Honestly, being devoured alive was just insane enough to be one of Joker’s sick stunts, but no—it didn’t feel… Joker-y enough. Even he’d probably keep Jason alive just to laugh in his face.

Jason sucked in another breath, fighting the nausea clawing up his throat. “So, let’s recap,” he mumbled, digging his nails into the slippery wall. “Stuck in a guy’s gut, no memory of how I got here, no idea who the hell ate me, and oh--right. I’m literally going to die in here. Just peachy.”

The stomach lurched suddenly, sending him sliding down, only to be shoved back up again by another ripple of muscle. He grimaced, trying to brace himself. And then, through the muffled tones and the heavy, distorted beat of the stomach around him, he caught something he’d recognize anywhere--a voice. And not just any voice, that same light, upbeat cadence that he’d heard a million times, the one that used to ring in his ears with the kind of brightness that could only belong to one person.

“No way,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing in the darkness as the realization hit him like a sucker punch. It couldn’t be. He’d never be stupid enough to do something like this. But the voice, the stupid cadence, and the sheer insanity of it all were enough to make it click. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Nightwing. Dick freaking Grayson.

Jason clenched his fists, the weight of his current humiliation settling like lead in his stomach. “Of all the stupid, reckless--” he muttered, barely able to believe it. Out of every sadistic nutcase in Gotham, he’d somehow ended up inside Dick. If it weren’t happening to him right now, he’d actually laugh.

Great. Just great. Buried, literally, in the “Golden Boy.” There was something sickeningly poetic about it, and he almost hated how much it fit. The guy he’d spent years trying to measure up to, fighting to be worthy of the role, who he’d half-convinced himself Bruce could never replace. And now here he was, trapped in the one guy he’d always felt himself shadowed by. Life had a real sense of humor sometimes.

“Grayson,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest to keep himself from dry-heaving, “you better pray I don’t get out of here.”

Because the dark, cramped, disgustingly hot pit was a nightmare Jason wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. The fact that it was Dick’s stomach? Oh, that just made it all the worse.

Jason shifted, grimacing as his fingers slid against the slick, half-digested remnants of… falafel? He gagged, pressing his hands against the walls as best as he could to brace himself, feeling another wave of that foul, acidic slosh roll over his boots.

“This is the absolute last time I team up with Grayson,” he muttered, gritting his teeth as he shoved his way up, the sour smell sticking to him, burning his throat with every breath. “And when I get out of here, I swear to god, I’m gonna make him regret every single inch of it.”

Of course, it couldn’t be anyone else’s stomach, right? Oh no. This whole thing was practically a sick joke. Here he was, stuck inside the guy he’d spent years trying to compete with, the guy who --whether Jason wanted to admit it or not-- always seemed to have it together. Meanwhile, Jason Todd was three inches tall, covered in stomach acid, and stuck in Grayson’s gut. Story of his life.

Just then, he felt a jolt, followed by a shift that had him sliding, face-first, right back into the half-digested slush at the bottom. He clenched his teeth, fighting back a wave of frustration. “Of all the idiotic, harebrained ideas, this was the best he could come up with?”

______________________________

Outside, things were deceptively calm. The last of the thugs had been cuffed and loaded up for the GCPD, and Tim and Dick were strolling down the street toward one of Gotham’s all-night fast-food joints. Tim was keeping pace beside him, shooting glances at Dick every few steps.

“So… we’re not going to talk about how Jason just vanished?” Tim asked, giving him a look that was a few levels below ‘judgmental’ but still in ‘I’m not buying this’ territory.

Dick shrugged, a bit too casually. “He’s Jason. Vanishing is half his style.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim muttered, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “Except usually, he at least gives us a heads-up, or a ‘screw you guys’ wave before bailing. And you’re weirdly chill about it.”

Dick held back a sigh, trying not to squirm under the scrutiny. Just play it cool, he told himself. “I’m telling you, Tim, he’s fine. He probably just needed a minute. You know him. He’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy regroup type.”

Tim’s frown only deepened, and he looked one small mental step away from phoning Bruce for a full-scale intervention. “Fine, you’re not gonna tell me. But if he’s actually in trouble, I’ll drag his ass back here myself.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re acting weird tonight, just so you know.”

“Appreciate the vote of confidence,” Dick muttered. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look casual as they stepped inside the fast-food joint. After ordering, he gave Tim a quick pat on the shoulder. “Hey, I’ll be right back -- gotta hit the bathroom.”

Tim didn’t even try to hide his suspicion. “Yeah, sure. Take your time,” he muttered, watching him disappear down the hallway like he was mentally cataloging every weird thing Dick had done that night.

________________________________

The bathroom was barely cleaner than the streets outside, but Dick didn’t have time to be picky. He closed the door behind him and took a breath, steadying himself as he braced against the sink. He could feel Jason still squirming, punching and scratching against the walls of his stomach.

“Alright, here goes…” he muttered, hoping to hell this wasn’t about to go from weird to grotesque.

With a few deep breaths and a not-so-gentle cough, he felt the painful push as Jason finally slid up and out, spilling into his hand. Dick exhaled heavily, trying to shake off the discomfort as he looked down at the soaked, very, very irritated mini-Jason sprawled out in his palm.

Jason wiped the gunk off his helmet with a grimace, barely glancing at Dick as he dragged himself to his feet. “Well, that was disgusting.”

Dick forced a grin, trying to keep things light. “Hey, I got you out, didn’t I?”

Jason’s glare could’ve cut through concrete. “In your stomach, Grayson. I spent the last hour drowning in… whatever the hell that was!” He flicked another glob of half-digested falafel off his jacket. “Didn’t exactly help that you ate before deciding to pull that little stunt.”

Dick winced. “I mean, it’s not like I planned on eating you, Jay. Just… improvised.”

“Yeah, well, next time, how about you don’t improvise by swallowing me whole?” Jason shot back, crossing his arms and bristling like a wet, angry cat. “Who even thinks swallowing someone is a good idea? Couldn’t just carry me around in your pocket or -- oh, I don’t know, figure out literally anything else?”

Dick shrugged, still trying to play it cool. “I was out of options. And I kept you safe, didn’t I?”

“Oh yeah, thanks. Real safe, Grayson. Look at me.” Jason held his arms out, dripping, his jacket half-eaten by stomach acid. “I look like I got tossed in a blender with a lunch special.”

Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Maybe it wasn’t my best idea. But hey, you’re not too worse for wear, right?”

Jason let out a laugh, bitter and biting, eyes narrowed. “Right. Well, good to know that I rank just below ‘half-eaten falafel’ on your list of things that matter. Just toss me in the garbage while you’re at it.”

Dick’s face softened, a flicker of guilt creeping in. “C’mon, Jay, that’s not--”

Jason held up a hand, cutting him off. “Save it. And for the record? Releasing me in a fast food bathroom? Way to show the love, Grayson. Real classy.”

Dick pressed his lips together, barely holding back a smirk. “Well, next time, maybe try to stay regular-sized, and we won’t have this problem.”

Jason shot him a look that could freeze lava. “Next time, Grayson, I’m shoving you into a sewer pipe and seeing how long it takes for you to complain about it.”

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.” He glanced down at the tiny, furious figure in his hand and gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile. “You, uh, need a rinse or…?”

Jason rolled his eyes, wiping another layer of gunk off his boots. “Yeah, try a hundred. And maybe a therapist on standby after all this.”

Dick grinned, finally letting out a small chuckle. “Fair enough. Remind me not to tell Tim about this?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to remind me,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms. “Now, can we please get me out of this hellhole? And, for the record, if you ever pull this crap again…” He trailed off, fixing Dick with a hard glare. “Let’s just say I know exactly where to aim the next time I get a crowbar in my hands.”

Dick just shook his head, chuckling as he carefully tucked Jason --dignity shot, pride thoroughly bruised-- into his jacket pocket. “Alright, Red. I owe you one.”

[trashytummies]

jason's wild timey wimey ride excerpt (Rebirth!jason ft. NTT Robin!Dick)

Back inside, Jason was sprawled uncomfortably in the pit of Dick’s stomach, the remains of the water still sloshing around him. It was cramped, wet, and oppressive, but he finally had room to breathe. He gave a shudder --gross-- trying to shake off the residual panic.

Just then, he heard Dick’s voice in his head, tentative and awkward, like someone trying out a new speaker system. Jason? You in there?

Jason took a beat before replying. Oh, I’m here, alright. Alive and well, thanks for asking. Real smooth process you got going there, Grayson. Nearly killed us both.

He could almost feel Dick’s eye roll. Maybe if you hadn’t been such a smartass, it would’ve gone smoother.

Jason huffed, shifting to make himself comfortable -- not that there was any real comfort to be found here. Oh, yeah, because swallowing a person is such an easy, everyday thing. Next time, I'm sure you’ll nail it.

Dick’s voice was laced with sarcasm. Glad you’re still keeping the sense of humor intact. Makes all this so much easier.

Jason smirked to himself, though there was an underlying nervousness that he really hoped didn’t come through. Hey, I aim to please. At least you’ve got company in here now, don’t say I never do anything for you.

[trashytummies]

jason & dick crack vore excerpt

the plot is really stupid but jason ends up time traveling and ends up in dick NTT era's belly (back when dick was mad angsty and kind of an ass about being robin/leader/away from bruce's shadow/expectations)

_________________

Jason lay back against the now all-too-familiar walls of Dick’s stomach, his arms folded behind his head, staring into the pitch darkness. The soft gurgling sounds were like background noise at this point; white noise for the eternally frustrated.

You know what would really improve the situation? Jason thought, half to himself and half to Dick. A gut air freshener.

The silence that followed was heavy, as if even Dick’s internal organs were processing the sheer absurdity of what Jason had just said.

Seriously, Jason continued, warming to his own idea. I mean, think about it. I could pitch it on Shark Tank. You know, walk in—well, I guess I’d roll in on a cart or something, still one-inch tall—and be like, “Hey, Sharks, are you tired of your stomach being a claustrophobic hellscape filled with digestive smells? Well, I’ve got just the thing for you. Introducing ‘Gut Fresh’—the first-ever air freshener for your insides.”

Jason grinned to himself in the dark, imagining the horrified looks on the faces of the Shark Tank judges as he explained his revolutionary product idea.

We’re talking lemon zest, lavender, maybe a little eucalyptus for that soothing touch. It could be huge. Everyone’s always talking about gut health. Why not gut smell?

Jason, Dick’s voice cut into his mental monologue, flat and thoroughly exhausted. Please stop.

Jason chuckled. What? You don’t think Mr. Wonderful would go for it?

No, Dick groaned. I think this is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.

[trashytummies]

shrimpy azul excerpt

The office door creaked open, and a pair of eerily familiar eyes glanced inside. Floyd, naturally, was the first to appear, his height alone making him seem even more monstrous than usual. His long limbs seemed to stretch on forever from Azul’s minuscule perspective.

“Oh, there you are,” Floyd’s voice boomed, a playful grin spreading across his face as he scanned the floor. “Shrimpy Azul, huh? This is too good.”

Azul’s heart sank. The last thing he needed was Floyd making this into some twisted game. He tried to compose himself, but it was difficult when his usual tactics were now laughable against the looming eel.

“I need you to—” But before he could finish, Floyd squatted down, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Nah, I think I like you like this. Cute little boss shrimp. What do you think, Jade?”

Jade appeared a moment later, his expression more composed, but no less unnerving. “Ah, Azul, you seem to be in quite the predicament.”

Azul clenched his fists, heat rising in his chest. Of course, the twins would find this amusing. “This isn’t a joke. Fix it. Now.”

[trashytummies]

lol I’m writing a dumb Batman vore fic but it’s turning out to be way longer than planned 😭