Halsin Headcanons For When He's In Love With You/Tav (Ungendered)
I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED TOO SOON
Generously Requested by @cryingoverpixelsetc I can't tell you how much it means to me when people actually WANT to hear about my bg3 brainrot because this game has been my escape lately and also, just a nice little break from the freelance work I have to cram to get done.
(PS if you like these, I am also a writer of my own original stories and I have some WIP's you may like.)
Quick CW|| Some graphic depictions of violence, particularly puncture wounds and viscera, intentions of heavy violence also referenced.
In Battle
He trusts you, perhaps more than anyone else, to handle yourself. He doesn't hover, but he always has an eye on you as you tear into the fray.
He always seems so gentle to you that you sometimes worry about your own brutality in a fight. Especially when it leaves you covered in blood.
Because of this, you tend to keep your distance after a fight, too frightened to look into his pretty hazel eyes and see any measure of hesitance or disgust with you. Not that you've gotten used to it, you cant bear the thought of him not calling you 'my heart.'
This is only a fear for you until you got pinned down with a particularly nasty bhaalan cultist. Astarion had already been taken down in the surprise attack, then you were toppled by one of the many in the ambush.
The scream you let out as they sadistically drove their daggers through the palms of your hands was shocking even to you. You felt like a moth pinned to a board--it was too painful to try to break yourself free, even as the assailant wielded his next blade like he was about to field dress an elk.
You'd never felt fear like that.
But it didn't last long. A great cave bear launched through the air and into your attacker, wasting no time before ripping into the soft flesh of his throat and tore it out.
The smell of fear on you was strong, he knew you couldn't fight like that, so he simply stood guard over you, tearing to shreds anyone who got close from what small parts of it you can remember through the utter fear.
It was the after math of that fight when you knew you could never let him go.
He cups your face in his large, warm hands.
"Look at me, dear heart. Look upon me and remember that you're alive. There is no more threat. There is no one to hurt you. I would never let someone take you away from me before nature deigns it so."
The blades, you wept, the blades would hurt to remove.
"They will, but only for a moment, my love. Just a moment of pain before I heal you myself and carry you back to camp."
It's Astarion who removes the blades from your palms and frees you; he has the steadiest hands. But Halsin wastes no time in cradling you close to him, holding both of your hands in his own as he quietly whispers the healing word. You watch as your flesh and tendons weave themselves together. Then he envelops you and comforts you as you cry. Just cry.
How lucky it is that he is so at peace with every expression of you. He takes you as you are at all moments; whether you're bloodthirsty, joyful, or terrified. He basks in it all.
At Camp
Always touching you. Always. To him this isn't a public display of affection. It's not awkward. He loves you, why should he not touch you at every moment he can?
Sometimes it's a small thing, a broad hand on the small of your back as you discuss travel plans with Wyll. A little touch to remind you that he is there, like a tether to safety.
Other times your bodies are a tangle of comfort. Like he's looked for every way he can weave his body with yours. His fingers in your hair, your arm over his shoulder, your leg betwixt his, his wide chest lifting and falling with his sleepy breaths. This is often how you wake in the mornings with him.
Perhaps your favorite, though, is the nights by the fire. He doesn't even ask most days, just places himself behind you and offers himself as your seating arrangements for the night. His arms up behind him as he reclines against a rock or a felled tree, you sitting on his lap or between his lazily bent legs. His husky laughter tickles against your ear, the little hairs on the back of your neck. His rough voice rumbled against you as he regales the camp with yet another story of his youth.
He's a bit of a night owl. You fall asleep long before him most days.
He's also a bit disheartened by how difficult it is to find clothes that fit him in your travels together. Karlach as generously offered to share her clothes with him of course, but...something about her taste doesn't really seem to quite suit him.
(A disappointment to you, considering how nice those legs looked in infernal leather.)
He's the one who does much of the hunting for the party, along with Astarion. Halsin's a shockingly gifted fisher, though most of the fish he brings back to camp have bites in the flesh.
It was unnerving to gale at first, but he learned to live with it when he once brought back a salmon the size of a deep gnome.
When You're Alone
Rarely fully clothed. Not shocking, of course and certainly not something you would ever complain about. He usually just takes his tunic off, he says it feels restrained by it. He feels like he can breathe a bit better when his chest is bare.
No pun intended, of course.
Funny thing though, you always feel its much harder to breathe when he's shirtless.
There are no chaste kisses with this large elf. He seems to not have the restraint.
"I love the taste of you, my heart. It's the finest ambrosia. How blessed I am to have free reign to sate my appetites with you."
He likes to braid your hair and you're not sure why you're surprised at how good he is at it. Braids are a common hairstyle for elves, after all, and the man is a few centuries old. It soon becomes your favorite part of any day.
"I love how long your hair is getting, love. These times with you, my focus lost in your tresses...they have become some of my most treasured memories."
He compliments you often and freely.
One day you tell him about how you worry that you're too brutal to be with him, that you're concerned you'll scare him off one day for good.
"My heart, I spend more than half of my life in the form of a cavebear. I know I have told you how I received this scar. I may treasure the thriving, living of nature but that is only one side of the coin. Nature can be as brutal as it can be miraculous. In you, I see the beauty of brutality. I do not fear it, I admire it."
In Intimate Moments
Potential NSFW below, proceed with caution.
TW|| Mentions of consensual rough housing before...well, you know.
He is...proportionately sized...if you like.
(You do. You like very much.)
You sometimes have to remind him to get his pleasure with you. He is so pleased to be with you in this way that he forgets to indulge himself, even when it would be a moment of shared pleasure.
He loves every iteration of making love with you. He loves to take you fresh after a battle, covered in blood, to remember what it is to live and be alive.
He loves to take advantage of the vulnerability of a bath in the rivers and lakes of Faerun. Seems to particularly enjoy the sounds that come out of you as he thrusts up and into you, the sounds of your bodies muted by the water so he can hear every whimper and hitch of your breath.
He loves to hunt you. More than once you've stolen away into the forests and he gives you a head start. It's some of the most thrilling experiences you've had being intimate with someone.
This is no simple game of hide and seek, it is a true pursuit.
He always finds you quickly and he is fast, but you are faster. It's always a struggle for him to catch you. When he finally does succeed in his quest, you are so lost in the thrill and challenge of the pursuit that it becomes a struggle.
This part he always wins though. Sometimes because your desire for his body takes over your desire for besting him.
Sometimes you are still fighting when he gathers both of your wrists in a single one of his hands and carefully locks your legs beneath his.
He is careful though. He would never do anything without your express consent, without your enjoyment. He may be lost in the moment but he is old enough and wise enough to keep his head.
"Do you still want this, my love? Does your body still burn with need? Or has the pursuit run away with you?"
When you tell him you want this; you want him. That brief tarry into gentleness vanishes. He smiles sharply and turns you over, taking you as an animal in the wild might. Rough and unrelenting.
His hands dig into your thighs, your hips. His fingers tangle and pull your hair.
But when all is said and done, the kisses are soft and sweet. Peppered over your shoulders, down the path of your spine.
He collects you in his arms and soothes you.
"Have you pain anywhere? Is there anything I can get for you my love? You have been so generous with your body this night, it is only right that I take care of you for the remainder of it."
He likes to discuss your intimacy at length. He wants to know what you liked, what you didn't like, what he should change. At first you didn't like to critique, but he pressed you about it once he started to notice changes in your demeanor or reactions in the act. It's gotten much easier for you to discuss these things with him over time.
He simply loves discussing the potential of a family with you. Sometimes enough to be ready for a second round. But that second round is much gentler and more loving than the first. Like he's dreaming of a future with you.
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BATBOYS FAV POSITIONS
Dick Grayson is a bit of wild card. But walk with me, Dick is a doggy style kinda guy (Dixon's run). Face down and ass up is how he loves to see you. He definitely runs his hands up and down your back, subtly deepening your arch.
I can see it now: Dick has you bent over, a vise grip on your hips, and he's going at a punishing pace." Baby so whining just for me," he'd groan out. Be prepared for Dick's hands to snake up into your hair. It doesn't matter what length or texture, his hands will be in your hair. He may even pull it if he's feeling kinky and in one of his moods.
he half-moans as his hips smack against your ass." Do I feel that good, love?," he'd ask with a smug and knowing smirk. Then he'd bring your back flush against his chest and wrap his hands up in your hair." You're gorgeous when you cum around my cock," he'd whisper in your ear and speed up his already impossible pace.
Consider that star imploding, sun draining orgasm one of many he'll give you. Dick has got master stamina, and you'll go round after round until you tap out. Even then he'll go," hmm? Cant do anymore? I fucked you that dumb all you can do is moan and tap on my thigh, huh?"
Jason Todd is a man who loves to be ridden. I believe it's called the cowgirl position. He's usually tired from striking fear into Gotham criminals, but he knows you want sex and he wants to please you--or you mutually want sex.
He'd definitely let you take the reins. Jason would smile as you pressed his chest and laid him down on the bed and climbed onto his lap. His cock would jump at the feeling of heat radiating from your cunt." Fuck, so wet and pretty...'s all mine ," he groaned.
Soon enough, your cunt was squeezing and milking his cock. He had his arms wrapped around your waist and his head buried in your tits as he whimpered and moaned." P-Please keep going." Jason would also rub your clit as you rode him. He prefers to see you orgasm more than anything--and he knows the sooner you cum, he can too.
I'm also a firm believer of Jason enjoying you overstimulating him. Maybe him projecting (even though that's lowkey what HCs are) but I think Jason likes being pushed past his limit. He'd love for you to keep riding after he's already came. His thighs tensed and quivering; his cheeks plump and cherry kissed; white strands of hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. He'd have a grip on your biceps and be fucking you onto his cock like a toy, just listening to your dazed and incoherent babbles as you both use each other past your respective limits.
Jason moans and whimpers as he cums. Walk with me: Dick is a grunter, Jason is a moan/whimperer, Bruce is silent but you can tell from the way his abs tense, and Tim is a speaker. Damian (way older obv) is a cusser, I feel.
Anyway, back to Jason: he's does aftercare for you both. Depending on how hard you used each other, the aftercare is different. If Jason and been traveling and you hadn't seen each other, so y'all REALLY fucked each other silly, like thigh trembling, hardly coherent silly then he'd wrap you in his arms and y'all would go to sleep. But if it was normal post-orgasm feeling, then he'd run you both a bath.
Ima need y'all to really walk with me on this one: Jason would wash you. Not in a creepy way, but in a loving way. He's showing affection, not control or dominance, but love. I truly believe he'd buy your beauty products even if it cut into his budget. Jason would love to massage the soap into your skin; he'd feel at peace when he ran the shampoo through your strands of hair, ensuring each lock was wiped clean of the absolute debauchery y'all had just gotten into.
Tim Drake from what I'd read gives me a 69 kinda vibe. He thinks it would kill two birds with one stone. You both get off, you both are happy and it saves time. Not only is it efficient, it also ensures that he doesn't tire out and embarrass himself with his lack of sexual stamina.
I may lose y'all with this one, but Tim is not that good of a fucker, but his true gifts lie in cunnilingus. He can out-eat anyone, especially with the right person--you. Tim would have you moaning around his cock, back arched and thighs trembling. He'd have his arms locked around your legs, just sucking on your clit and tonguing your hole. And he wouldn't stop until his lips and nose were slimy and soaked.
Tim tries harder than any of the Bat-boys because he feels like he has to prove himself. He feels like he hardly won you over as it is, so the least he could do is please you. I also think, no I know, Tim has a praise kink. When y'all do go P in V, I think he'd stick to missionary until he felt comfortable enough to try something else." You make me feel so...so good," in that moan-y voice will have Tim unintentionally blowing his load and then feeling embarrassed about it. He'd also get a rag to clean you up. And his version of aftercare is eating and watching movies if you're up for it.
Bruce Wayne prefers it when you're both lying on your sides and he can hike your leg up and fuck you deeper. He'd have a hand in your hair, and his pillow-soft lips would be laying kisses on your sweaty neck. He can't get enough of your scent. Being with you brings out the primal side of him, the wild and carefree side.
I truly believe the sex would have little spoken words. He's not big on praise or degradation. Though he does oh-so adore your moans. He'd liquify your sweet sounds and inject them into his blood stream if he could, to get high on you. That's one addiction he wouldn't mind having nor would he be rushing to kick.
He's also very iffy on the aftercare. Sometimes he's the pinnacle of aftercare etiquette. Other times he's cold and stand-offish when he feels he's slacking and shirking his duties as Batman. He'll retreat into the Bat. And even as he yells and insults, he HOPES you won't get tired and leave. He HOPES he can shut himself up before making an irreversible mistake. Hope is a big thing for him. After all, he's a man of facts and statistics.
Even if Bruce can't be there in the flesh, he still ensures you're taken care of. Bruce ensures you have the best and warmest meal. Whether it's Alfred's making or the fanciest restaurant in Gotham. He'd have wardrobes and glam teams flown in from Paris and Italy to personally attend to your appearance. Not because he feels you need it or he'd rather you look a certain way. He'd love you if you wore a plastic bag. No, he's doing it for you. You want clothes and shoes. You want makeup, and he wants the best for you. So premier glam teams it is.
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