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smol-and-trashy · 5 years ago

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Sylvix Vore Fic (FE3H)

A/N: This is probably mega OOC, but I fell in love with both Sylvain and Felix during my first playthrough of FE3H and been itching for a vore fic featuring them. It’s probably more accurate to read this as platonic due to my inability to write anything remotely romantic... This was also inspired by @sinfromlokislair‘s Sylvix fic, theirs is a lot better tbh haha.. Vomit warning, so if that makes you squeemish, please leave now! Enjoy :)

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Felix growled as he shoves off the giant finger, wishing this oaf wasn’t the first person who offered help. While Sylvain would disagree, it wasn’t entirely his fault that he was in this position. The blast of magic was directed towards their professor and Felix, standing behind her, found himself foolishly taking the hit. He expected a lot of things to happen, well aware of the effects of taking a direct hit to dark magic, but being reduced to the size of a field mouse was not one of them. Now, he has to pay the price of the curse.

Felix pinched the bridge of his nose, he expected something like this happening to Sylvain, the reckless skirt-chaser, but himself? He was usually more collect in battle. He sighs, regret still weighing heavily over him, but he had more pressing matters to tend to, specifically regarding the man before him. He looks up: Sylvain Jose Gautier loomed over Felix in all his self-proclaimed glory, Felix swallows. Goddess, he was gargantuan, his chest taking up most of Felix’s line of view and he has to crank his neck far back just to peer up in his friend’s eyes and feel like an equal in conversation. Bubbles of fear and humiliation rose up inside the smaller, but he represses those feelings, swiftly replacing them with indignation. “For the last time, Sylvain, quit poking me.” “Sorry, sorry, it’s just that you’re so tiny and cute! I really can’t help myself.” Sylvain laughs a little, folding both hands behind his head. “Insatiable, as always,” Felix mutters under his breath. If Sylvain heard, he gave no indication, instead, grabbing Felix without a single warning. As the tree-sized fingers close around his waist, Felix soon finds himself face-to-face with his ginormous friend; bemused, Sylvain simply watches as the smaller struggles in his grip. “Let me go, Sylvain!” he squawks, trying to pry those fingers off him. Really, the man had no concept of personal space. “Mm, I could, but,” Sylvain leans forward with his elbow still on the table, drawing closer to Felix. Fruitlessly trying to maneuver his legs and kick at Sylvain’s too-close face, he stops; scowling as he notices his own reflection in those amber eyes, and at last, Sylvain pulls back. “This is all too much fun!” he winks. “Hilarious, now let me down, you oaf.” Felix says flatly, “I would rather dual the boar than being stuck here with you.” “Really? Because most ladies would love to be in your shoes, Fe.” Felix squirmed a little in the redhead’s grip, not fancying himself so high. “Let them. At least you would finally leave me alone.” Sylvain leans on his arm, a cocky grin adorning his lips, “Ouch, don’t be like that! Least now, you can’t refuse to get dinner with me.” The raven-head rolls his eyes at the reminder of Sylvain’s countless dinner invitations, most of which he had turned down in favor of training. “Forcing me to eat with you, would you stoop so low?” Sylvain says nothing, only flashing a sly smirk and hoists Felix a few inches higher, just above his nose. Felix unwittingly tenses up, he's much too high and Sylvain was taking this joke further than he'd like. He curses while digging his nails into his friend's skin, trying to force himself to be lowered. Yet, the other refuses to budge. He can't tell if Sylvain thought of this as one big joke or if he was really this careless. "You incorrigible---" "Aw, c'mon Fe, you’re just cute enough to eat!” Sylvain interrupts smugly, dangling Felix over his wide-open mouth; He wasn’t seriously going to drop him, but it was all too easy to get a rise out of him. Felix’s heart pounds furiously against his chest as he’s forced to peer into Sylvain’s awaiting maw. Sharp white teeth that could easily bite him in half taunt him while that wet tongue twitches and Felix doesn’t even want to think what is beyond that dark, pulsing throat. It was repulsive, everything. Despite himself, Felix couldn’t stop staring. Is this what prey feel when they’re about to be eaten? Strangely enamored? He frowns, choosing not to dwell on it, and instead, averting his eyes to the door, he was no damsel, but a piece of him wishes for Ingrid or even the boar to pay Sylvain an unexpected visit. Relief sweeps through him as those lips close, “Tell me, do you have a death wish, Sylvain?” he growls, but the older man’s lips quirk upwards, evidently amused. As Sylvain opens his mouth to make a quip—- “Sylvain!” Ingrid barges into the room, and in an instant, he loses his grip on Felix, barely able to make out the tiny man’s objections as he falls straight towards the gaping throat. Sylvain’s jaws snap shut, and the obtrusion at the back of his throat causes him to swallow, purely out of reflex. Fuck. All traces of coy playfulness disappear instantly as he feels the tiny body make its way down his throat. He sits there, in cold shock, as Felix drops into his stomach. The heavy, humid air hits him, and Felix lies absolutely still, paralyzed with disbelief. This can’t be real. That half-wit did not just swallow me. Felix’s heart pounds in his ears as he wipes the slime off his face. The chamber wasn’t as dark as he anticipated, in fact, he could see the wrinkled pinkish walls fairly well. His own stomach turns as thick chyme splashes on him, and before he’s able to gain some semblance of footing, he’s thrown at the opposing wall. More liquid soaks him, and Felix thrashes aimlessly, the only coherent thought going through his mind is ‘I need to get out of here.’ He rushes to the nearest wall, cursing at Sylvain for taking his swords beforehand, and punches at the wall. No reaction. Not a wince, not a protest to stop, nothing. The chamber groans and convulses, but there’s no direct response from Sylvain. Felix clenches his fist, and despite the heat, he feels an icy chill plunge into his veins; no, he must persist. He’s trained on hours end, he can make Sylvain notice him. As Felix is about to inflict another punch to the walls, he hears a familiar voice around him, pushing down the squicked feeling of hearing his childhood friend in such a ubiquitous manner, he pauses to listen. Sylvain stands up and freezes, a nervous chuckle arises from his throat, “I-Ingrid! To what do I owe the pleasure of—“ “You know how many messes of yours I had to clean up for the past week?” He blanches as Ingrid wastes no time in berating him for his less than reputable behavior, “You promised that you would cease your philandering ways, but I heard from Ashe, of all people, that you were—-“ she pauses, Sylvain was almost hunched over, sickly pale with his arms twisted around his stomach, “Are you okay? You look unwell.” At that, Sylvain straightens up, “Ah, yeah, yeah, just ate something bad earlier,” he winces as he earns a nasty kick from Felix, “nothing some rest can’t fix!” Ingrid’s concerned expression only deepens, she purses her lips, but Sylvain, armed with a charming smile, puts a hand on her shoulder, “Honestly, Ingrid, I’m fine. But it’s cute of you to get all worked up over me! Y’know, maybe a kiss on the cheek would help?” The blonde shoves his hand off, rolling her eyes, “I’m not…Take care of yourself, Sylvain,” she sighs, turning around and finally shutting the door behind her. Alone in his room, Sylvain gingerly presses a hand on his belly, earning sharp kick in retaliation. His mouth suddenly feels like it was filled with cotton, and finding himself at a rare loss of words, Sylvain racks his brain for the right thing to say, for something to say. “You alright in there?” he mentally slaps himself after the words come out of his mouth. How utterly stupid he must sound. “Am I alright in here?” Felix repeats incredulously, blood boiling with every ticking second, “Did you really just ask the man who’s stewing away in your filthy guts if he’s ‘alright in there?’ What the hell do you think?” Sylvain swallows and finally sits down on his bed, trying to control an incoming rush of vertigo. He runs a hand through his hair, slicking the ruddy strands back into place, and sighs. “You’re right, I-I’m sorry, Felix. You’re not… melting in there, are you?” His heart-rate begins to pick up, thumping wildly in his chest like a caged bird. “Oh Goddess, you need to let me know if anything is happening!” “As you should be,” Felix says while checking out his arm. His once white sleeves are stained from the juices, but he’s feeling no burning effects. Not to say the acids wouldn’t be activated when Sylvain eats something—-other than himself. “It looks like I’m fine, for now.” “Good, let’s get you out of there.” He’s met with an affirmative hum, and Sylvain plants himself on the floor, firmly pressing both hands on his stomach. Tiny fingers tap on the bottom of his belly and now wholly aware of it. The feeling is entirely alien, almost ticklish; he automatically heaves, offhandedly noting the room getting warmer as sweat gathers on his forehand. Bile creeps at the bottom of his throat, and Sylvain dry heaves once again, “C’mon…” he murmurs. His stomach groans louder, noisily protesting the shrunken being inside, and his fingers slam on the hardwood, curling instantly. As his guts twist and turn in itself, he grimaces, wishing for a drink to aid him in this uncomfortable process. Sylvain’s eyes widen as he gags, only able to retch out strands of saliva. There is a distinct lack of a certain sharp-tongued mercenary. “No…Why didn’t it work?” he whispers, clutching at his middle. “Sylvain…” Felix’s voice is dangerously low, and Sylvain was sure that if he hadn’t removed the former’s weapons, his insides would have been lacerated mercilessly. Even though they’d been friends since childhood, even though they made a promise, there was no way Felix would let himself die such a humiliating death. Felix glares up at the tight sphincter from above, it’s much too high to force open, but maybe if Sylvain was lying down… He pauses, out of nowhere, acids begin to bubble and churn. The stomach gurgles louder, and suddenly, he’s thrown from wall-to-wall, hardly getting a chance to catch his breath. A god-awful groan resonates around him, and his head gets submerged under the liquid; everything flies by too quickly; this was it, this was how he was going to go down. He can’t breathe; one moment his lungs are filled with acids, and the next, he finds himself splayed on a squishy surface. Felix coughs and gasps for air, for a split second, he really thought he was done for. Arm slung over his head, he almost doesn’t notice the shadow looming over him or the fast pulse below, rivaling his own. He needs a good minute to recoup himself as he breathes slowly to even his heart-rate. Finally removing his arm, he looks above. Felix’s breath hitches as the thundering vibrations of Sylvain saying something reverberates through his body; nearly admonishing himself for such a pathetic reaction, he realizes the words aren’t registering. “—-about this, yeah?” Felix catches the tail-end of whatever the redhead was trying to say. “Alright.” and for the first time since this ordeal, there’s no bite behind his words, only thinly veiled exhaustion as he finds himself slumped against Sylvain’s index finger. He just wants to return to normal and forget this day ever happened.

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