#is this just an excuse to draw Seteth with long hair? yes.

[greymouse42]

"The sun is older now, warmer, and Cichol is older too, but colder."

I wrote a piece about Sothis and Cichol and childhood and faith for last year's Seteth zine! (And I did my own spot art — that's what this is!) At the time, it was the first zine I'd ever participated in, and even if production got complicated, I'm still really happy with the work and it was a lot of fun to work on submissions with friends. 💚💚

I'll drop the link to my fic in the notes. 💚

[glowingbadger]

Seteth and dirty talk? Him doing the dirty talk if possible ;) if You'd prefer to fluster him with dirty talk I'm all for it :D

I missed St. Cichol Day so I'm pushing this one further up on my queue to atone and get that sweet Seteth goodness in here for us~ I thought long and hard about how to do this one, since I always feel that Seteth struggles so much with even acknowledging and understanding his own desires, let alone expressing them aloud, so... what I'm saying is, I hope we're feeling ready to be verbally dominated by way of vaguely religiously toned lecture. With, like, a side of voice kink I guess idfk

Quick CW for the sub-dom dynamic here, but honestly, the way I write Seteth, that's practically a given lmao

Seteth (FE3H) x GN Reader

Kink prompts list #50 - dirty talk

NSFW 18+

Perhaps, after a handful of blissful nights being disciplined and scolded in his bed, you should have expected your body would react to hearing that particular forceful tone in Seteth's voice. You'd happened to arrive at his office in the midst of what sounded like an especially firm lecture- even by his standards. It's not at all an uncommon thing to have stumbled upon, but now, your body responds in a way you hadn't been prepared for. Today, eavesdropping from the second floor hall, you can't help the flood of erotic warmth through your core, the thudding of your heart, the way your pulse races at the potent reminder of him bending you over his knee to admonish you. The response is fully subconscious- it's learned. Trained. For a moment, you almost manage to feel sorry for whatever student is at the receiving end of Seteth's wrath, but your instinctive arousal distracts you from any thought but the need for satisfaction.

"I expect you to reflect gravely upon your actions," his voice is stern still, but softening as you listen from beyond the oaken office door, "The future you build for yourself will be the direct consequence of the habits and morals you develop now in your youth. You would do well to correct these failings before they come to bring you harm. That is all."

By the time the thoroughly humbled student is excused and scurries past you and down the hall, you catch yourself biting at your lower lip, restless with desire.

You slip into Seteth's office, making sure to close the door behind you. He's already returned to his desk, his brow low and eyes focused on the nightmarish sprawl of paperwork before him. On seeing you, however, his irritable expression immediately softens.

"Ah- do you need something of me, my love?"

You smile, but gesture for him not to leave his seat on your account. Instead, you come to stand behind him, running your hands fondly along his tense shoulder muscles.

"Not in particular, I just figured I'd check up on you," he relaxes just slightly at your touch, "It's been a busy term, huh?"

"That it has," he sighs, his eyes never leaving the work in hand though he does lean back to you, "Would you join Flayn for dinner in my stead tonight?"

"She'll be cross with you for working late again," you lean forward, drawing your arms around him from behind his chair.

"I imagine so, yes," he replies with a bemused sigh. Pressing your body to his back, you let your breath tease the barely concealed point of his ear as you say,

"Maybe you'll even be the one getting lectured for once,"

His body tenses at the gentle sensation.

"I... had hoped that you hadn't overheard that unpleasantness before you arrived."

"Just a bit as you were finishing up," you kiss the shell of his ear, and feel his frame shudder in response, "But to be honest... I actually sort of enjoy getting to hear you being so stern and serious."

Seteth stiffens against you, his posture rigid and his face warming as your hands run along his chest. Still, he maintains a semblance of restraint.

"From what I'm told, it is not a rare occurrence."

"I don't mean your usual seriousness," you say with a laugh that flutters through his hair, "I mean, you know, more... Authoritative. Commanding."

Your teeth graze his ear, and you feel his breathing stall, his jaw tightening as he stifles a groan.

"Dearest..." he says breathlessly, "You... are well aware of my feelings on this sort of thing during working hours."

You hum playfully in reply, then slowly kiss a line down to the corner of his jaw.

"But you've been so busy lately, I've been lonely..."

Seteth clears his throat.

"I am afraid we will both simply have to be patient, my love."

The ironic impatience evident in the strain of his voice draws your lips into a smirk. Pressing yourself warm against him, your hands running along the firm muscles of his chest, you nuzzle the crook of his neck and say,

"And what if I simply can't wait to have you, Seteth? Not all of us can be as unshakably virtuous as you are, you know."

Seteth rises to his feet in one abrupt motion, wresting your arms from him. You let out a squeak of surprise as he seizes you around the waist and pulls you to face him, the back of your legs against his desk as he traps you between it and him. His gaze is full of fire and fury, but his words are unyielding,

"If you struggle to embody virtue, then you must learn it- and you will do so, by my hand alone."

"Seteth-" you barely manage his name, your fight and your breath both leaving you at once.

"I'll not tolerate a moment more of this wanton behavior, Y/N," there's that tone again- that forceful, uncompromising tone that already has your pulse racing and your body warming, "Perhaps you require a reminder of the consequences you stand to face."

You can't get a word out. You only nod.

Please. Please.

Seteth's hand at your chin keeps your gaze trained on him, his touch heated, yet anything but tender.

"You will await me in my quarters this evening, undressed and on your knees, do you understand? I expect to see you ready to bear your punishment with utmost humility and gratitude."

Again, you slowly nod.

"Answer me properly, Y/N."

There's a dangerous edge to his voice. His brow lowers as he looms over you, and you manage,

"Ye- Yes, sir."

"Very good." His expression is contemplative as a fingertip traces the curve of your bottom lip. "We will correct this shameful behavior, Y/N. If I must take you across my lap and strike you until you repent, then so be it. If I must use your lips and throat to train you in obedience, then I shall do so."

A tremor rushes down your spine, and you nearly whimper aloud. Those arresting green eyes hold you rooted to the spot as he speaks, his voice low but firm.

"I will discipline each and every inch of you until I see you trembling beneath me. I will bring you to the very brink of release to hear you beg and plead to me for mercy, and I shall grant you pleasure or withhold it as I see fit. You will worship until your body aches and you can think of nothing but your utter and complete submission."

Like a holy sermon, his words build until they wash over you, enter deep inside of you, leaving your face flushed and knees weak.

"Then, once I am satisfied with your penance, and no sooner," his gaze darkens, though his hand gently caresses your cheek, "then, perhaps, a Saint will hear and answer your prayers."

You're not certain how you're still breathing, let alone still standing. Your hands have steadied you back against his desk, but your legs feel unsteady beneath you. Still, despite it all, you force out a meek whisper,

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Apparently pleased with this reply, Seteth leans close and warmly, gently kisses your forehead. The sweet tenderness of the act is so deeply at odds with the lurid filth that's filled your imagination that you're not certain how to respond. You want to grab him by his robes and kiss him, want to beg him to pin you to his desk here and now, to fuck obedience and humility into you until the whole Monastery hears how good you can be for him. But that would not be in line with the type of punishment he has in store for you, would it?

"Now then, I am certain you have your own matters to attend to until I see you this evening," Seteth's tone is rigid and business-like once more, shaking you from your lustful daze. He returns to the seat at his desk as you watch him with a sullen pout across your face.

"Seteth," you practically whine his name, "That wasn't fair at all- how am I supposed to just go about my day like this?"

He glances up at you over the paperwork in hand, and says with just the barest hint of a smile,

"On the contrary, I can hardly think of a better way to begin your disciplinary training. I am certain that you can endure it graciously until we meet tonight."

[sabineelectricheart]

From The Balcony

Summary: Byleth does not care for balls. Sylvain will not stand for that.

Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.

Words: 1400

Notes: A little bashing, a little fluff. Tell me what you want, I got it all.

It was the night of the ball. A cold and dry mountainous wind blew constantly through the stone halls of the academy, as it often did on winters. The Ethereal Moon was absent from the skies, probably feeling upstaged by the bright lights in every corner of the monastery, celebrating the ever encroachment of the Millennium Festival.

Alas, it was still 1180, and the people of Garreg Mach were in an unusually celebratory mood. After a trying year, the festival served to finally release some tension and enjoy life.

Amongst the joy of the students, Byleth observed the proceedings from a balcony overlooking the highly decorated entrance hall. She was not the one for fancy balls and dancing, as she looked downright stupid trying to do the quadrille, but she was entrusted with chaperoning duties. It stands to logic that such a position would be conductive to observation.

As she nursed a goblet of wine and ensured order and decorum from the students, quiet footsteps climbed up the balcony two at a time, hoping to steal the woman away, if only for a single moment.

Without looking back, Byleth greeted him. “Hello, Sylvain. How are you faring tonight?”

“You’re too good.” The redhead comments with a chuckle. “I came to look for my favourite person in the monastery.”

“Indeed, and I hope this is the reason why I am your favourite person.” She twirled the purple liquid, not really desiring to drink it.

“It is one of many reasons.” Byleth watched as Sylvain extended his hand. “Well Professor, can I have this dance?”

When she looked up at him, he had his signature flirtatious easy smile with just a hint of something more. She bit her lower lip, looking around the ballroom for any sign of trouble downstairs.

She let out a soft sigh and gave Sylvain a sheepish look. “Sylvain, I cannot…“

“You can’t dance, I know, you’ve told me.” As he gently cut her off, her blue eyes grew wide. “Just trust me, would you?”

She did not trust him. She wanted to, but she did not. Byleth wanted to trust him with her life and they have not known each other that long, but so far, he has presented as a spoiled, untrustworthy teen, even if something else did shine through the cracks. The professor wonders silently who actually is Sylvain, and whether she would appreciate the response.

It made no sense, but she was not much concerned with that. Debates and morality could wait until the sun rises, and so she took his hand and he led her by the bannister, where they could hear the music and the light hit her eyes just right so they appear almost green, before pulling her close and placing a hand on her hip while holding the other.

They began to do a slow box step, Byleth looking down at her feet every once in a while. Sylvain could see the uncertainty in her face, and ever since he has known her, even if it has not been that long, he has never seen her confidence fall like this.

He moved the hand that was engulfing hers to her chin, lifting it so her eyes were on him. “By, look at me. I got you, you won’t fall on your ass. There’s no one watching, just relax.”

She let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. “I am just… I cannot believe you remembered that I said I could not dance…”

His wide grin immediately turned into a frown. “We don’t have to…”

“No, no, I want to dance.” She then brought the hand that was no longer accompanied by Sylvain’s over his other shoulder, wrapping both arms around his neck as she got even closer. “I brought up the fact that I could not dance in passing, once, many Moons ago, and you remembered.”

Hugging her towards him as close as he could, the corner of his mouth lifted as he gave an indifferent shrug. “You’re just one of the few people that I care enough about to remember stuff like that.”

“What happened to the Sylvain that seduces village girls by the bucket and then dashes off to the next big thing?” She lifted a challenging brow before he let out a hearty laugh.

He chuckles lightly, even as his heart weights on him. “The thing is, Byleth, you are worth so much more than any woman I seduced in the past.”

The reason for so much of her value, her blood, her Crest, was left for her to wonder how much it weights on his judgement. Were they forever shackled to the will of the Goddess? Or would he finally be free of it all and love and live honestly?

Seeing this side of Sylvain was definitely an experience, but it was something Byleth realized she enjoyed quite a bit. When she first met Sylvain, the philandering heir to the Gautier family, she never would have thought his hard-shell exterior would crumble down in such a manner. She also never thought she would feel so appreciated with him, but she did.

This is love. All the times she had the feelings of butterflies in her stomach, wanting to trust him and feeling as if she fit on with him so early on and without any rational reason, and the small moments like these, it was love.

They continued to sway, soaking up the intimate moment as Byleth’s thoughts were running wild. She has never felt this type of love for anyone before, this was something new for her. It was so new that she was not sure she even wanted to tell him. She could not tell him right now, she could not giving him what he clearly wanted so early, lest he loses interest.

Pushing down any other thoughts on that subject, her adoring smile turned into a bewitching smirk. “So, if those women are in the past, does that mean you are completely retired from seducing?”

His eyes gleamed with amusement. “You know, you don’t need to wait until we’re in mortal peril to have an excuse to try and jump me.”

“You are saying there is such a time when we are not in mortal peril?” She quipped back.

“Yes, so feel free to jump me anytime.” He winked before bringing his lips down her ear. “I’m ready and willing.”

She felt a shiver go down her spin as he moved his mouth away from her ear. When their faces were mere inches apart, she could see all the care that he held for her, even behind that damn grin that was usually occupying his face.

Byleth took the initiative and slightly went up on her toes, closing the distance between her and Sylvain with their lips. The kiss was slow at first, but turned into something more passionate. Byleth laced her fingers through his hair while Sylvain continued to flush her body against his, kissing harder than before.

When the kiss had finally broken, Sylvain looked at her with a far more tender expression than before. “You know Professor, I won’t lie. Meeting someone like you is like… Like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.”

A rosy blush appeared on her cheeks and before she could respond, the music had come to a stop, allowing a hush to go over the ballroom. They looked down to the party and could see Manuela drunkenly making a scene on the dance floor, and Byleth remembered for what reason she was originally there.

She ought to do something before Seteth intervened and made it much worse for the entire faculty and student body, even if she really wanted to cut down on her responsibilities and let Manuela draw her own luck when it came to their boss.

Letting her grasp on Sylvain go, she gave him a smile. “Thank you for asking me to dance. You are probably the only one who could ever get me to let myself go in such unsightly manner.”

The redhead beamed, as if she had told him he was to be the next Emperor of Fódlan. “Well, I’ll be looking forward to the next time to whisk you away.”

They both set off downstairs, back to their usual grinding life at the monastery, getting ready for whatever on the Goddess’ wicked imagination was about to happen next.

*_*_*_*_*

Fire Emblem Masterlist

Three Houses Masterlist

[golden-deer-dear]

Love of Mine, Ch. 1/5, Claude x Byleth Fic

Summary:  They were so looking forward to the birth of the first child, but when complications arise, Byleth and Claude must face the fact that their moment of happiness could turn into a tragedy.

Notes: Yet another fic inspired by @pokemagines I was originally going to post this as a one shot, but it kind of ran away from me. I've cut it up into five chapters, and I'm hoping it doesn't get any bigger than that. But that means you guys get this first part now because I can't sit on anything for long.  So much for my break. -_-

Warnings: Pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort

Read on AO3.

Love of Mine

It was cold when he woke. Still half asleep, Claude pulled the blankets tighter around himself, throwing the thick covers over his head and snuggling borderline aggressively into their warmth. He could not wait to return to Almyra. He had come to love Fódlan. His desire to protect the people of the Alliance had only grown to cover all of Fódlan once it was united under the war. They were his, just as the people of Almyra were his to lead and safeguard. The other students of the Golden Deer were like family to him, their place in his heart aided by the woman who had taught him to trust. So of course he loved Fódlan, he had married her ruler after all. 

He did not, however, love their winters. Almyra was warm. It made sense. Sure, the desert nights were chill, but there was no need for layers upon layers of furs. Nor did he ever have to trudge through meters of snow, save for when he was crossing the Fódlan’s Throat. Claude was not fond of being able to see his own breath upon the cold air. It always felt like something was being stolen from him.

A low huff dragged him further toward consciousness. The mattress shifted and the blankets were pulled away from him. Claude whined, reaching out for their warmth, settling when his arms wrapped around an equally warm body. That was much better. “Taking blankets from your pregnant wife. How selfish,” Byleth’s soft voice chastised him.

Still not opening his eyes, Claude nuzzled against Byleth’s neck, a happy hum in his throat as his nose brushed against the smooth skin of her shoulder. “You won’t be able to use that excuse for much longer.” A grin, open and genuine, graced his face when his hand reached Byleth’s swollen stomach. 

She still had two months to go, but the pregnancy was sitting heavy on her. His beautiful, confident, strong wife was wearing down as she was constantly ill. Her swollen joints made it hard for her to move, and her midwives were close to simply placing Byleth on bedrest altogether.

“Don’t tease me,” Byleth murmured. “I’m tired of being sick and swollen all the time. I feel like I can’t do anything myself anymore.”

Claude finally opened his eyes as Byleth placed soft kisses across his face. Her lips were warm little drops of Almyran sunshine he missed so much. He turned his head, seeking her lips with his own. “My poor wife,” Claude whispered as they broke apart. “Are you feeling ill this morning?”

“A bit nauseous, nothing more than usual,” Byleth admitted. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But I woke up with a terrible headache.”

Claude was fully awake now. His hands moved from Byleth’s stomach to the sides of her head, rubbing small circles against her temples. Byleth sighed happily, melting into his touch. “We should tell Alma the headaches are becoming more frequent.”

Byleth nodded against his hands. “I have my checkup with her and Mercedes this morning.”

“Would you like me there?”

He caught her hesitation, the brief flicker of fear that passed within her eyes. Even if her next words were not an agreement, he would have found a way to be with her anyways. Byleth’s hand came up to grasp one of his own, intertwining their fingers together. 

“Yes, but Seteth will not be happy. We have put so much on him already.”

“He will understand,” Claude countered. “He wants to make sure you and our babies are taken care of, I think more so than me at times. 

“On another note,” he continued, “think you’re up for some breakfast today?”

Byleth opened her mouth, only to close it quickly as she rolled away from him. She did not get far, only able to take a few steps from the bed before she doubled over and vomited, bile staining the tiled floor. Claude was at her side immediately, pulling her hair back and rubbing her back until Byleth’s stomach finally stopped betraying her.

A wretched groan left Byleth’s throat, and she leaned back into Claude’s embrace. He knew she felt absolutely miserable, had for the past few weeks now. It seemed it was becoming harder for her to eat, let alone keep it down.

“Claude, you are the light of my life, but did you really have to put two of them in me at once?”

More gentle caresses were laid against her stomach, his lips brushing soft reassurances against her cheek and jaw. “You two need to stop giving your mother so much grief,” he said, addressing Byleth’s stomach.

“I should have known your children would inherit your penchant for trouble.”

/

There was no hiding it. The look on Alma’s face let Byleth know that something was wrong. With the way Claude’s hand tightened around her own, she knew he had seen it as well. “What is it?”

Alma folded her large arms over her equally large chest, her face stern as she studied Byleth. Her back was bent with age, giving her the appearance of a shuffling square. Heavy wrinkles dragged at her skin. They folded over her face so much Byleth was not sure how the old woman saw. 

Claude had insisted she join them when they returned from Almyra. She had served as assistant to the midwife who oversaw Claude’s birth. Byleth saw no reason to fight him on it. For all Alma’s gruffness, her knowledge of child bearing was vast, and she had spent much of her long career applying new theories of white magic to developing methods of safer deliveries. Alma herself had complained she was too old for such trouble, all the while packing her bags.

“Mercie, grab one of those test vials,” Alma commanded. Mercedes had found herself taken under Alma’s wing, absorbing the older woman’s knowledge with such ease even Alma admitted she was impressed. For her part, Mercedes seemed overjoyed to turn her magic toward bringing life into the world.

When the glass was in Mercedes’ hands, Alma turned back to the royal couple. “Some of your symptoms are worrisome, but there is a simple test we can conduct to see if anything is actually wrong. We will need to test your urine.”

“Come on, Professor.” Mercedes offered her arm to Byleth, letting her lean into her as she was guided to the adjoining chamber. She heard Claude take a step to follow them, but Alma in turn demanded his help with some medicines, commenting he could put that knowledge to some good use for once. Byleth smiled at the banter behind her, grateful that Alma was offering Claude a distraction. 

“I’m sure it’ll all be fine, Professor,” Mercedes said, drawing Byleth’s attention away from her husband. “Alma has been teaching Marianne and I so much. We’re working on combining much of what she has taught us with our own magic.”

“Combining Almyran and Fódlan techniques?”

“Yes!” Mercedes nodded happily. “We’ve already seen some promising results.” Mercedes paused, turning away to give Byleth some privacy while she went about the business Alma had commanded of her. When she was done, Mercedes helped her back toward the bedchamber. “I’m glad you’re helping Claude with his dream,” she said in her soft voice that always seemed to set Byleth at ease. “There is a lot of work to do, but I believe the world is headed down a bright new path.”

Byleth smiled at her former student. “It’s become my dream as well. And you’re helping us make it happen as well, Mercie.”

Alma’s stern voice cut off whatever response Mercedes would have offered. “I’ll have a willow bark tea ready for you in a few minutes. I want you to drink all of it while we run our test.”

Byleth made a face but nodded. She hated the taste of the teas Alma made her drink. They were always so bitter, and she was never allowed to put any sweeteners in them. Warm arms wrapped around her, and Byleth leaned into Claude’s embrace, mumbling her displeasure against his shoulder. All Claude did was chuckle and kiss the top of her head, listening to Mercedes and Alma as they ran their test.

When Alma turned back to them, Byleth knew the woman had confirmed her suspicions. “There is something wrong.” Claude clutched her a little tighter, but for once remained silent.

“There is a high amount of protein in your urine,” Alma told them matter of factly. She may be gruff, but Byleth appreciated her no nonsense way of delivering news. “You have developed a condition known as toxemia. This is not an uncommon condition, and it is good we caught it early.”

“What can we do?” Claude asked. His cheek brushed against Byleth’s own as he pressed himself closer to her.

Alma sighed heavily. “There is not much that can be done. The condition usually resolves itself after delivery, but with how much time you have left, I cannot advise we induce labor. Especially since twins tend to come early anyways. They need as much time to grow as we can give them. Bedrest and the willow bark tea are the best treatments for now.”

Byleth groaned. She already did not feel like moving around all that often, but actually being confined to her bed was another thing altogether. 

“Your checkups will need to be daily instead of twice a week,” Alma continued as if she had not heard. “If your condition begins to worsen, we will need to discuss inducing labor even if it is still too early.”

At her back, Byleth could feel Claude’s heartbeat quicken. She took his hands in hers, holding onto him in a vain attempt to quell her own fears. “And what happens if we don’t?” Claude squeezed her hands in his own silent protest.

For the first time, Alma actually hesitated. That more than anything scared Byleth. Alma took a deep breath before she answered. “Hopefully, the condition will stay as it is now, and resolve itself when you give birth. However, should it worsen and we not induce labor, there is a high chance for you to experience seizures. If you were to reach that stage, then you and the children will be in great danger.”

‘We could die.’ Byleth would not say it out loud, not with Claude there next to her. He knew it, he was too smart not to know what Alma’s words meant. 

And she knew, if it came down to it, who Claude would choose. For once, his choice would contradict her own.