Oh look, a tummy kink blog. Call me Yorick, or Y | punk pretty boy | 22 | My asks are open about my OCs, my writing and anything else you might want to say ;]
- This is a fairly NSFW blog, not heavily, but not clean either lol, and I’d greatly prefer if minors stayed away please. It will be a 100% block on sight if I find out you’re a minor
- Feel free to talk to me about irl kink! I also enjoy being teased about my hunger and teasing others about their hunger too, and if you'd like my discord feel free to DM me for it!
- Kinks I’m indifferent to: weight gain, inflation, belching, emetophilia (vomit), hunger without corresponding satiety, unrealistic stuffing (bellies far too big to be physically possible)
- Kinks I dislike/won’t write/interact with: non-fatal vore, scat, mpreg/preg, extreme weight gain (immobility)
- Kinks that I prefer others don’t approach me about: fatal vore, extreme pain with no comfort, oviposition, stomach bursting, malicious force-feeding, underage or non con
-you can still interact with me if you have kinks that I don't like! I don't have a DNI list, I just block people/tags that I don't want on my dash, but you're free to follow/reblog my posts even if you have kinks that I dont care for haha
- Feel free to send me asks regarding my preferred kinks!
- All my OCs/any characters I write fanfic about are 18+. Here I’ll also say that I’m a gay man, so all the stuff I write will likely be either mlm or nblm. Sorry lady-lovers, women are cool, but boys...mmmmmm
- Roleplay? Yes! I love roleplay!
Writing Commissions!
Cash App: $Ywriting24
*one more note, I'm also willing to write for vore, but I'm not super experienced in it so just keep that in mind!
Writing Examples (with example prices if commissioned):
Blue Food, Blue Belly (2,525 words) (25$)
A Hungry Librarian (1,637 words) (16$)
Jace and Safer: Hunger scenario (611 words) (6$)
DM me or send an ask if you have any questions! Right now I'm taking 5 commissions!
idk what the fuck surface thats supposed to be but wheres my hunger girlies. a fun fact about toto is when hes feeling down he just Cannot eat
[ID: a drawing of a guy with a bruise under his eye, sitting with his head down on his arms on a table. he's crying quietly, and his tummy lets out a long, sad growl. a thought bubble over his head shows a jellyfish labeled "brainless" and "spineless."]
shortly following this image (they go to a weekly art class)
[hunger, mood-related lack of appetite, implied abuse, he eats in the end]
"Hey, Toto--oh, what happened?" Keonda looked up with concern as Toto set his watercolor pad on the stool beside hers.
"Huh?"
"Your face! What, did you get in a fight or something?"
"Oh! Um…" Toto thought about that, absently touching the bruise under his eye. "Um, no, it's nothin'."
Keonda gave him a skeptical look, but she didn't push the issue. She had a pretty good idea where that bruise had come from, and she supposed he probably wouldn't want to talk about it--he always hated making his wife sound bad. Deciding that attempting to cheer him up would be a better course of action, she changed the subject.
"Whatcha workin' on tonight?"
"Um, I think I'm gonna try to finish my flowers," he said, though he didn't sound confident. "What about you?"
"I finally finished my other thing last week so I'm lookin' at the setup with all the weird little statues."
The lecture was brief tonight--the instructor gave a few tips on color mixing and composition, then left everybody to it--and Keonda was happily sketching the interesting still life she'd been eyeing since it was put out. When she glanced over at Toto, though, her heart sank a little. He had the pad open to his half-finished painting, but he didn't seem to be doing anything with it. He was just gazing glumly down at the page, limply holding a dry paintbrush in his hand. He looked like he'd had the life sucked out of him. Just as she was about to say something, a long, whining growl came from his stomach. She glanced up at the clock. It was only just after seven, and the class went on until ten.
"Hey, didn't you eat dinner?"
"Huh? Oh, um, I wasn't, I wasn't hungry." That, she at least believed. Whenever he was feeling down, Toto's appetite left the building completely.
"Well, it sure seems like you're hungry now," said Keonda, giving his hollow tummy a gentle poke with the flat end of her pencil. "You didn't bring any snacks, did you?" He shook his head. She frowned.
"I'm alright," he said, just barely mustering up a smile for her. His stomach growled again, though, a weak, miserable sound, and he held an arm over it.
"You wanna grab dinner somewhere after class? We could sneak out a little early," she suggested. Toto thought about that, and, realizing that question was just too much for him to handle on a cloudy head and an empty stomach, she changed her approach.
"I'm gonna get pizza afterwards. I've been thinking about that place up the road all week. Come with me, alright?" Toto nodded obediently.
Keonda made good headway on her statues, but Toto found himself struggling to do much of anything that evening. He felt like a ragdoll. He added a little extra color to one of his leaves, a shadow here and there, but he simply couldn't find it in him to get into it. His empty belly ached, though the idea of eating anything still seemed unpalatable, and between that and his gloomy mood, there wasn't an ounce of focus in him. Keonda tried to chat with him while they worked, but not even her chipper demeanor could pull him out of the slump.
"Toto, what's on your mind?"
"Huh?"
"You're not here tonight. What's going on? Do you wanna talk about it?" Toto thought for a moment, then shook his head glumly, sniffling.
"It's just, um, it's just stuff," he said, wiping his eye. "It's my own fault anyway. It doesn't matter. Your statues look really nice." Keonda hopped down from her stool and hugged him tight.
"I won't bug you about it if you don't want to talk, but I'm sure it wasn't your fault," she said, patting his back. "Your flowers look nice too."
The time ticked by slowly, and it was a little after nine when Keonda started packing up, not an unusual time for a few people to head out. She didn't feel bad about dragging Toto out early; his forced attempts to work on his painting were utterly listless, and he was clearly starving. She thought the sound of his stomach growling was just about the loneliest, most pitiful noise she'd ever heard a human body make, and she was eager to get some hot food into him. She just hoped he wouldn't turn it down once they got there.
It was only a five minute drive before they met again in the parking lot of the pizza place. Keonda couldn't help noticing the waiter giving Toto an odd look as he brought them to a table, clearly wondering if the black eye was a sign of a troublemaker, and she felt immediately defensive, though she supposed it was a fair guess. He was quick to bring out their pizza though; the place was nearly empty at such a late hour. Toto nibbled at a fry, more to appease his friend than anything else, and she slid a slice of pizza onto a plate for him.
"I'm not lettin' you out of here 'til you eat," she said, passing him the plate. She'd ordered a Margherita pizza, knowing Toto was a sucker for basil, and, sure enough, she could see something subtle open up in his expression as the smell of it wafted up toward him. Finally giving in, he took a small bite for her.
While Toto's lack of appetite was often a result of a bad mood, it had a way of cycling back into a factor for it as well. Not eating all afternoon hadn't done a thing to help him feel better, but as he slowly worked his way through the slice of pizza, he began to perk up ever so slightly.
"You're-you're a good friend," said Toto, pausing to take a little sip of his soda. The ache in his belly was fading, and while he was still feeling down, it was hard to deny the effect of her company and her kindness.
"You are too, Toto, and you're a good person," said Keonda. "Whatever's going on at home, you deserve better, alright?" He seemed unsure about that, but he didn't argue. He simply gave her a sheepish smile--much less forced this time than the smile he'd tried to reassure her with earlier--and took another bite of pizza.
Author's Note: Hey! Long time no see :) October gave me the inspiration to write a little something with Buck and Dante again, and I figured I should post it here since it's been awhile since I've posted any writing. So enjoy!
Word Count: 1.5k
CW: Hunger, guns mentioned, sensory issues, gore mention
...
The screen door slammed shut, and Dante looked up from his research for the first time in what felt like hours to follow the sound of heavy, tired footsteps into the kitchen.
"Buck?" He called out, dog-earing his page as he looked up at the clock. It wasn't quite lunchtime yet, but he supposed if Buck was in from the garage, a break couldn't hurt.
"In here!" Buck called back, and Dante slipped out of his chair to meet him in the kitchen: He was rifling through the fridge, tossing every package of lunch meat he could find onto the counter, along with the cheddar, bread and mayo. Clearly, he'd come in here with the intent to make one hell of a sandwich.
Dante leaned against the doorway, observing the other man. "Damn. Someone's hungry, huh?"
"Y'don't even know the half of it." Buck grumbled, serving the other a tired glance before turning his attention back to the fridge to deliberate between other possible toppings. He'd decided on pickles, ketchup and mustard by the time Dante crossed the kitchen and ruffled Buck's hair affectionately on his way to put a pot of afternoon coffee on for himself.
"Well, the full moon is tonight."
"Don't remind me…" Buck sighed. "I swear, it sneaks up on me every month."
"We've had a lot on our plate lately… How're you feeling?"
"Like I never even ate breakfast." Buck's stomach rumbled, and he set a hand against the gentle swell of his belly, rubbing it gingerly as he closed the fridge. "I been thinkin' 'bout lunch all day…" He took out four slices of bread, laying them out on a plate as he munched on the heel.
"So… Two sandwiches, then?"
Buck shook his head, beginning to spread the mayonnaise on thickly. "One's for you. You want ham or turkey?"
"Buck, you don't have to make me one… You should be making yourself one of those massive sandwiches Shaggy was always eating in Scooby Doo."
The other man chuckled wryly as he heaped turkey, ham and cheese onto his own sandwich. "That would do the trick, wouldn't it…" His stomach growled restlessly, and he sighed. "But, you're helping me tonight. I figured I oughta do somethin' nice before I end up tryin' to eat you later."
"So take me out for a drink tomorrow." Dante sipped his coffee, eyeing Buck up and down. "How do you usually manage the transformations, anyhow?" He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested in watching how the transformation process affected Buck before the full moon rose: He'd been hunting werewolves for years, but he'd never gotten the chance to observe the transformation until his close encounter with Buck during last month's full moon.
How either of them didn't kill each other still amazed Dante.
"I, uh… Usually drive out into the middle of nowhere." Buck clammed up somewhat as he carefully assembled Dante's sandwich. "Figured it was no use tryin' to lock myself down. I've seen the kinda mess I can make when I'm like that… And if I got out, I'd be right by a neighborhood fulla folks I know, and I couldn't risk hurtin' any of 'em. But unless it's hunting season, there ain't nobody in these woods at night. So I just, turn myself loose and hope I ain't too banged-up or too far from my truck when I come to."
Dante nodded along, frowning as Buck explained what the morning after looked like. "So, what do you need me doing tonight? Because hunting season just started…" And he couldn't risk Buck attacking somebody, or vice versa. Because anybody he ran into in the woods tonight would more than likely have a gun.
"I'll tell you later." Buck said shortly, plating their lunches and handing the ham sandwich to Dante. Buck's sandwich was nearly a double-decker: He'd crammed so much meat and cheese on that the two slices of white bread barely contained his condiment-soaked monstrosity. It didn't look particularly appetizing, but it sure looked like it'd be filling.
"I gotta get back in the shop."
"Alright… Just don't work too late, I'd like some time to, y'know, prepare."
Buck nodded curtly, and stole away with his sandwich without another word.
…
It was barely four by the time Buck came in from the garage, and Dante had just started preparing dinner. He figured something hearty was in order, so he landed on chicken and dumplings: A more labor-intensive meal, but Dante was craving it just as much as he was sure Buck was craving something filling.
The screen door slammed open again, but no greeting came from Buck. He didn't even come into the kitchen: The footsteps stopped at the couch, and Dante walked in just in time to see the older man flop back onto it with an exhausted groan. He seemed entirely dead to the world as soon as he closed his eyes, and Dante figured he would have stayed that way if his stomach hadn't interrupted the silence with a terrible howl. He winced and dug a hand into it as the noises trailed off into a string of angry gurgles.
"…Are you cooking?" He asked wearily, turning to face Dante standing in the doorway behind him.
"How could you tell?" Dante stepped past the threshold of the kitchen and onto the shag carpet in the tiny living room to stand behind the couch. If he didn't know any better, Dante would think Buck was sick. He was a strong fella with more than enough energy to carry him through the day, but right now he just looked… Deflated.
"I can smell it." His stomach moaned.
"…The chicken's still defrosting, how can you-"
"I just can." Buck rubbed his temples, his other hand still resting on his belly. Dante hadn't known the other long, but he'd never seen him this agitated before. "I can smell it, I can smell you. I can hear a donkey pissing a mile away and the only thing I can think about is food." He lamented. Dante frowned and finally decided to sit down beside Buck instead of hover over him.
"So all your senses get dialed up to eleven before you turn?" Buck nodded, eyes flitting anywhere but towards Dante.
He wasn't used to talking about this.
"Yup. The wolf who turned me, she uh…Laid it all out for me. Told me that every full moon I'd be "eatin' for two", so to speak. That the only way I could satisfy it was with a hunt. She told me it'd be uncomfortable…" He scoffed. "Nothin' ever coulda prepared me for how it really feels. At first it's almost like bein' drunk: Your senses don't feel right, you're in a different state of mind, the best thing in the world is a plate of wings… And then it just gets worse. The hunger, the ringin' in your ears, and it don't let up until you feel your bones start to break."
It would have been rude, but Dante wished he had his notebook on him. Either way, he couldn't help his curiosity. "…You knew the wolf that turned you?"
"She was my wife." He said simply. Dante had to stop himself from gaping.
"You were-"
"Right outta high school. Stupid decision, considerin' what she turned out to be, but I wanted that apple-pie, white picket fence life and back then, I saw it with her." He shook his head, staring off into the near distance. "She had other ideas."
Dante was speechless. "…Shit. I'm sorry-"
"-And I'm sorry for the melodrama. The full moon seems to bring it outta me." He tried to dismiss the topic, but Dante wasn't having it.
"Don't apologize, Buck. I mean, it's not like it's unwarranted…" Dante set a hand on his shoulder, and Buck just nodded curtly.
"I just… Feel like I have to. I coulda killed you last time, and if we ain't careful tonight…" Buck didn't finish the thought. He didn't want to think of what he might do.
"What do you need me to do?" Dante squeezed his shoulder, but before he could say anything, his stomach groaned. The noise was deep and hollow, and clearly felt just as bad as it sounded by the way Buck's face screwed up in discomfort. Dante just smiled slightly and leaned over to rub his belly affectionately.
"Sounds like I should finish dinner first. Then we can worry about everything else, alright?"
Buck shook his head in disbelief. "You're too good to me, you know that right?" Dante chuckled at that; and he planted a kiss on the top of Buck's head before standing up.
"Hey, you started it. Speaking of… Is that why you started flirting with me around the full moon? Because you get all sappy?" Buck rubbed his neck bashfully.
"Come on, now… Don't go puttin' me under a microscope just because you know all there is to know about werewolves."
