and mixed headcannons because we have been Erisless for too long. Eris x anything really, priestess/ mate/ enemy/ friend female reader.
Let this be something of a quick read, it’s always an honor to tag my favorite writers here. @erin-bo-berin @princessofvelaris @harvest-bunny
warning: not very excessive but there is smut here, sex, oral sex mention and suggestiveness.
But it’s mostly wholesome and angsty. I’m bipolar. 🥲
Eris who would want to see your face, the way he gave you pleasure in your expression while he praised you, kissed you gently, wanted you to find your own way with him.
Eris who adores you so much that he would dedicate some of his time to just look at you, caressing you like you would disappear the next second.
Eris who would never force you into any roughness unless he heard you scold him for being so gentle, only then would he grab and fuck you harder until you could not think about anyone else.
Eris who loved visiting you in the library despite it being a quiet place, said it was a test to see if you could stay silent for a few minutes but never mentioned it was going to involve you lifted against the shelves for a quickie.
Eris who handled your desire better than any male, and never got competitive because he knew no one else could make you cum the way he could, even with just his tongue.
Eris who let you see his hounds and name one, smiling behind you as you named it “Spark” and called it cliche but always petted Spark breathless because he wished you could be together without hiding it from anyone.
Eris who kisses your knuckles, the scars and the bruises with reverence and words of encouragement that you would never suffer again.
Eris who developed a habit of sketching just because of you, every report or parchment given he started sketching your eyes on it. Always the eyes, as he would never mistake them for anyone else’s.
Eris who laughed loudly and in joy for the first time when he witnessed you having your first drink ever and gagging and making a face, he would never forget that day.
Eris who would cry if you died, your cold body in his hands as he desperately tried to warm you with his natural heat and beg his father, whom he had never begged before, to help revive you.
Eris who would take the whipping and the torture to protect you, close his eyes when you tended to them later gently, tears falling from your face but he kissed them away.
Eris who thought you were out of your mind when you defended him to Beron, insulting his father to his face without fear and proudly admitting to it in public but fall in love with you just the same.
Eris who hated being pitied but would never be able to resist your sweet words and caresses as he nuzzled your neck and inhaled your scent until he memorized it.
Eris who had gotten a letter from you, a doodle of him just to make fun of him and joke around but had kept it hidden in his drawer to look at it and smile while you were away.
Eris who would love to bicker with you about anything, smirk as you got frustrated and started throwing things at him but he could only think about how beautiful and fierce and free you looked.
Eris who would never degrade you in front of anyone because he was done with women around him always being downrated and he would not be his father.
Eris who would see you doing face masks and call it ridiculous but use it himself when you weren’t home.
Eris who would teach you how to ride a horse and hunt, laugh at you when you fell off and ask for forgiveness by spinning you in his arms until you laughed with him.
Eris who once he became High Lord would watch you sit on his throne like a brat and instead of calling for another or sitting on the arms, would squeeze in with you until you two were squished together but he only cared about being able to hold you and kiss you.
Eris who would let you tease him, grinding against him when you were clothed and pretend it did not affect him while being so painfully hard he had regretted acting tough.
Eris who would love you being a brat both outside and in the bed, putting you in your place and making you shut up was one of his favorite things to do.
Eris who would not know how to be a father but would love to have a little girl he could teach to be strong and independent.
Eris who would love listening to you sing or hum, your voice forever carved into his mind as the only thing he had patience for after a whole day with his father.
Eris who had imagined your name with his surname multiple times, making you a Vanserra and aroused by the way you seemed to claim it anyways.
Eris’s training would always end up with you pressed against him or the floor, clothes out of the way enough for him to thrust into you, a hand on your throat as he “punished” you for daring to suggest Azriel’s form was better.
Eris who was surprised himself at how much he loved seeing you wearing his court’s colors, watching you walk into the dining room in a red close to his hair, eyes on him as you sat down and crossed your legs; everything about you driving him insane, his own eyes promising to bend you over that table in the moment.
Eris who wouldn’t openly tell you he wanted you but would send you flaming flowers every day with notes of what he was thinking of doing to you and watch you squirm whenever he was in the room.
Eris who would help you draw your dream ring and forge it himself with his own fire, carving his and your name in the curve of its inside.
Eris who would help you overcome your fears and insecurities with a patience no one showed to their partner.
Eris who would be in love with your fierce love, your story of finding yourself, your ambition that reminded him of his own and would be there to help you if you needed it but knew you could do it yourself anyways.
