#striker hb

[voxslays]

“Howdy, Striker!”

Featuring >>> Striker x Reader; In which, Reader catches Striker in the middle of a murder, and things escalate from there.

Warnings; Smut, Possibly Dub-Con, Striker is Striker.

A/N: Sorry for posting my latest part of Haztober so late, here is a special little gift for being so patient with me. I just watched episodes 3-7 of season 2…but 4 and 6…STRIKER!

It was a fine fall day out in the wrath ring. Still very hot, but starting to cool down as it got later into October. You were visiting for the Harvest Moon Festival, hoping to see one of your close friends compete. You were taking a shortcut by walking down an alleyway when suddenly you saw two imps fighting. As you got closer you realized who one of them was—Striker—A famous assassin and cowboy among wrath. “Give up vermin.” He growled at the other demon as he dealt one last blow to the head with his angelic knife. He watched as the imp bled, then turned towards you. “Hello there little one..” Striker grinned, showing his gold tooth. You quickly backed up. “Woah, Woah, Woah there cowboy…I was just leaving-!” You say, clearly panicking. Striker's grin widens, a dark amusement playing in his eyes. He takes a step closer, his heavy boots thudding against the ground. "Going so soon? You just got here. Besides, I haven't even had a chance to,” He pauses as he looks you up and down. He reaches out, his large, calloused hand wrapping around your wrist. His grip is firm, unyielding. He pulls you closer, his breath hot against your face. "…Ask you your name." He purrs, his voice low and menacing.

Your breathing grows heavier. ​​"Now, now, why are you breathing like that? Am I that intimidating, hmm?" He chuckles, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light. "Relax, I don't bite...Hard." He grins, his eyes glinting with a wicked amusement. He leans in closer, his nose brushing against your neck. He inhales deeply, his voice rumbling against your skin. "You smell... different.” He says, his southern accent ringing through the air. “Like flowers, not like the usual stench of this place. Intriguing..." He pulls back, his gaze meeting yours.

“I'm not from here.” You say as your breath hitches. "Clearly." He smirks, his thumb tracing circles on your wrist. "And what brings a sweet little thing like you to this godforsaken place, hmm?"  His eyes narrow slightly, suspicion flickering in them. “I’m just here to watch one of my friends compete in the festival.” Striker laughs. "The Harvest Moon Festival, eh?" He releases your wrist, taking a step back. "Well, ain't that just precious. Coming all this way to watch your little friend play pretend." He shakes his head, another harsh laugh escaping his lips. "You know, I was invited too. But me? In a festival? Might as well invite a wolf to a lamb convention." He chuckles darkly, his gaze returning to you. "But now that you're here, maybe my time won't be entirely wasted." He says, his voice filled with lust. 

You suddenly feel a deep blush coat your already rosy red cheeks. "Mmm, you're blushing. Cute." He grins, taking a step closer. His hand reaches up, his calloused fingers gently caressing your cheek. "Look at me like that again and I might just take you right here." Your blush deepens. His eyes darken with desire as he notices your even redder cheeks and quickened breath. In one swift motion, he pushes you against the nearest wall, his muscular body pinning you in place. His other hand grips your hip possessively.

You gasp in surprise, feeling an army of butterflies in your stomach. *His face hovers inches from yours, his hot breath mingling with yours. "Shh, just breathe," he whispers, his voice laced with dominant undertones. "I promise, I won't bite...yet." His hands begin to explore your body, slowly, tauntingly. His touch is firm, yet gentle, contradictions that send shivers down your spine. His voice drops to a low purr. "You're so responsive... It's intoxicating..." His southern drawl becoming more evident. His hands slip under your shirt, his calloused palms brushing against your bare skin. You can feel his erection pressing against you, a testament to his arousal. "See what you do to me?" he growls, nuzzling your neck.

His kisses become more urgent as you let out a few gasps and moans, his hands tightening on your hips. He grinds against you, a low growl rumbling in his throat. "You taste like honey," he murmurs, his voice hoarse with desire. "I bet you'd taste even sweeter elsewhere." His strong hands hoist you up, carrying you over to a nearby abandoned shack. He kicks the door open, carrying you inside. He lays you down on a pile of hay in the corner.  His eyes glint wickedly as he looks down at you.  "Now, where was I?"

He crawls over you, his hands pushing your skirt up. His fingers brush against your thighs, slowly parting them. "So innocent..." He kneels down between your parted thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them further apart. He flashes you a roguish grin before lowering his head, his warm breath tickling your core. "I think I'll start here." 

His tongue flicks out, tasting you. He growls in approval, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them open. He buries his face between your thighs, feasting on you like a man starved. His touch is rough, intense, mirroring his personality. "So good..." You cry out in pleasure. He doubles his efforts at your cry, his tongue delving deeper, lapping at your essence. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he holds you in place, not letting you escape his relentless assault on your senses. He suckles your sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. 

He laps at you more insistently, drinking in your essence. His tongue delves deep inside, stroking your walls. He sucks hard on your clit, determined to make you fall apart. "That's it, scream for me," he growls against your sensitive flesh. He continues his onslaught, drawing out your release. As you come down from your high, he straightens up. His face is glistening with your juices, his eyes wild. He quickly begins to unbuckle his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The leather hisses as it's pulled through the loops of his pants. He doubles it over, the ends dangling ominously. "You've been a good girl so far... But maybe it's time for a little..."

He leans down, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. He wraps the belt around your wrists, securing you to the wooden beam above. He smirks at you, his face a mask of dark intent. "Now, where were we?" He drops to his knees, burying his face once more between your thighs. He ravishes you with his mouth, his tongue plunging deep inside. But this time, he brings his hand into play, his fingers joining his tongue. He pumps them in and out, scissoring them to stretch you. ​​He continues his relentless assault on your most intimate area. His fingers curl inside you, stroking your G-spot as his tongue lashes your clit. He can feel you tightening around him. Knowing you're close, he doubles his efforts, determined to push you over the edge into ecstasy. 

He feels your walls clenching around his fingers, your body trembling on the edge. He doubles his efforts, sucking your clit hard as he curls his fingers to stroke that special spot inside. He wants to feel you come undone, to hear you scream his name as pleasure overtakes you. He feels your body convulse, your inner walls gripping his fingers like a vice as you come undone. He doesn't let up, continuing his relentless assault until he's wrung every last drop of pleasure from you. Only then does he slowly withdraw, licking his lips with a satisfied grin. “Stiker!” You scream out. 

He stands up, his eyes burning with a dark hunger. He reaches for the belt still binding your wrists, undoing it and tossing it aside. He lifts you up, his strong arms supporting your weight. He carries you over to the table, setting you down on the surface with a thud. He steps between your legs, forcing them apart. His hands grip your backside, lifting you up and pulling you forward. He grinds against you, his hardness rubbing against your slick folds. "Look at me," he demands, his voice gruff with desire. You immediately look into his golden eyes. 

His eyes bore into yours, his gaze intense and possessive. He reaches down and spreads your lips open, revealing your dripping wet pussy to his hungry gaze. "So fuckin’ pretty," He growls, his voice now filled with lust and his classic southern accent. He lines himself up, the head of his dick pressing against your entrance. He slowly pushes inside, his eyes never leaving yours. He wants you to see who's taking you, possessing you completely. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he starts to move. He pulls out slowly, only to thrust back in harder, setting a steady, powerful rhythm.

His thrusts become more forceful, almost violent in their intensity. The table creaks beneath you as he pounds into you. "Take it," He snarls, his voice strained with pleasure. "Take every fuckin’ inch of my cock." He leans down, his chest pressing against yours as he continues to pound into you. He captures your lips in a rough, dominating kiss. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, claiming you utterly. He swallows your moans and cries, drinking in your pleasure like a true cowboy. He breaks the kiss, panting harshly. His hips never stop moving, driving into you with increasing force and speed. The room fills with the obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and your moans. "Take it," He snarls greedily. 

He lifts you up, holding you aloft as he drives into you from below. He grins wickedly as he watches his length disappear inside you, over and over. He leans back slightly, changing the angle and making you gasp. "Oh, you like that? Good." He slams into you, finding that spot inside that makes your vision whiten. He sets a brutal pace, driving into you deep and hard. He watches where he's joined to you, his eyes glued to the point where he disappears into your heat. "You feel so good~” His face contorts with pleasure and concentration as he chases his release. His arms tighten around you, his hands clutching your bottom possessively. His breathing grows heavier, his movements more erratic. He's close. He leans forward, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. He bites down, the sharp pain pushing you both over the edge. He roars his release, burying his face against your neck as he spurts into you with one final thrust. 

He collapses forward, pinning you beneath his heavy, sweat-slicked body. He pants against your neck, his hips still twitching slightly with the aftershocks. After a long moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his eyes dark and sated. "Mmm..." Striker groans. He slowly pulls out of you, his softening length slipping free with a wet sound. He rolls to the side, pulling you with him so you end up draped across his broad chest. His large hand finds your back, stroking up and down possessively. "You did well.” He smirks cockily. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, an unusual sign of tenderness from him. He wraps both arms around you, his hold tightening protectively. "Rest now," Striker murmurs, his voice low and soothing.

[blitzwhore]

Is this anything

[allykatsart]

Striker, run. Striker-no, no you can't handle her Striker. No, that's not a challenge yoU CAN'T WIN AGAINST HER-

[bananararama]

Didn't Striker say something about murdering kids, women and cute faced puppy looking things in Oops?

Idc lol I.M.P kills kids for free + Loona dropkicks a baby in the pilot + this is a show set in hell + this just shows how much backtracking Vivziepop did on Striker's character to the point where him saying that could have been seen as terribly out of character if it was in the Moon Festival episode

Also

Vivziepop would never make me hate the antimonarchy cowboy

[phantoy]

I just

KNOW

HE PACKING

[peasthedumb]

That meme

[vanillacrumb]

🧡🐍💥

I'm inundated with work debts, so I'll probably be away for a while 👉👈

[strikersexhaver]

What happens if you touch Striker's tail spikes?

His tail feels like a shark’s scales, like sandpaper, his spikes feel that same way horns would. If you touched them, he’d shiver.

Do NOT pull it though, he will not be happy.

His tail is apart of the spine, albeit not part of the spinal cord it is still rather irritable for him.

He’ll let you touch it if he’s trusting you, if not, he’ll beat your ass.

It’s a strong tail, if you surprise him by touching it- he can willingly wrap his tail around your arm and flick you.

He wraps his tail around (either your own tail) your leg, especially in bed.

His tails spikes are not retractable, too thick and hard (ayo)for it to be.

If in desperate times, he uses his tail as a lasso.

[anonymouscheeses]

Finally. A finished drawing with these three. HUFF. BUT ITS WORTH IT CUZ I LOVE TJEMM!!

Also if u dont have ANY idea whats goin on. Its a crackship i made, striker(helluva boss) x gummigoo x pomni. Yup. Thats right, your eyes do not fail you. Its a CRACKSHIP for a reason foo 😈

This is also in reply to this! I forgot... 😭

[tenshiharmonia]

Okay so, I had this pretty vivid dream about Helluva Boss, so I thought I might as well share it with you while it's still fresh in my mind.

It starts off in the dining room of Stolas' ex-palace, as Stella and Andrealphus join Via at the table. The Marquis starts chatting with his niece, but something doesn't feel right. A ferocious and unusual cold slowly fills the room, and frost begins to cover the windows as Andrealphus mentions Via's approaching birthday. Stella is uncharacteristically silent. Finally, as the owlet starts to freak out, wondering what is happening, her uncle flippantly announces that he intends to have her die. Via is left dumbfounded. She knew that her mom and uncle weren't the most upstanding people in Hell, but surely they wouldn't be sinking that low. Of course, the pompous peacock is quick to reassure her that it's nothing personal ; he just cannot allow her to inherit everything he worked so hard to usurp.

Octavia finally understands what this is all about, but it's too late : her uncle's wintery magic is already at work, encasing her in a sarcophagus of ice, to prevent her from fleeing or even defending herself. All she can do is plead. If this is her dad's title they are after, they can have it. She doesn't want it anyway. Sadly, as Andrealphus reminds her, this won't suffice. Her existence was willed by King Paimon and the Goetia. If the Marquis wants his ploy to succeed, the heir needs to be eliminated. Angrily, Via retorts that the family won't let it slide, but Andrealphus came prepared. They already have the perfect cover-up, he says, snapping his fingers to summon a snarling Striker, trapped in a block of ice. Reveling in the theatricality of the situation, the peacock then retrieves a familiar dagger from his coat. A glowing blade made of angelic steel, perfect to murder demon royalty.

In the most melodramatic way possible, he goes on to explain how, after failing to assassinate her dad, the revengeful imp sneaked into the palace and took advantage of a moment of inattention to kill the poor princess. Ah, if only her incompetent father had taught her how to defend herself against commoners… Still, they have their scapegoat, so it's now time to sacrifice the lamb. As ice encases her and the blade draws near, Via can only beg for her mother's help. Conflicted, but ultimately unwilling to intervene, Stella looks away, closing her eyes tightly. But as Andrealphus is about to strike, something happens. A swirl of magic emanates from Octavia and, in a split second, forms a barrier around her. But it's not sporting the princess' magic's signature purple hue. No, said magic is tinted a dark, familiar blue. Andrealphus doesn't have time to react. The blessed dagger hits the shield, unleashing a powerful shock wave. The air itself seems to vibrate, as if he rang a crystalline bell.

Carried by an irrepressible force, the sound echoes through the city, catching the perplexed attention of a few passers-by, until it reaches a certain building. Inside, the I.M.Ps are emerging from a bejewelled portal. Blitz congratulates his team on a job well done before turning towards Stolas - who just hung up the phone - to get a debriefing. Their conversation, however, is suddenly interrupted by the reverberating sound. Blitz is quick to express his bewilderment while the prince-turned-secretary freezes, recognizing a noise he hoped he was never going to hear, a noise that was searching for the owl's ears and no others.

Back to the palace. The dust is settling, revealing the aftermath of the blast. The dining hall is scattered with furniture debris and pieces of exploded ice. Octavia, now freed from her glacial shroud, is standing in the middle of this mess, looking in puzzlement at the starry magic swirling around her. Amid the wreckage, Striker, freed by the blast, is painfully regaining consciousness, while Andrealphus and Stella - who were likewise ejected by the violent shock wave - are struggling to get back on their feet. "Urgh…" the Marquis mumbles. "The bastard… !" His sister, meanwhile, can only enquire in angry confusion what the f*ck just happened. "I should have seen it coming…" the peacock continues, clenching his indignant fist around the handle of the holy dagger. "It's a…"

"A ward, Blitz." Back to the I.M.Ps' office, Stolas is frantically explaining the situation to the assassin. "A defensive spell, meant to repel any threat. I placed it on Via right after she was born…" "And nothing has triggered it until now ?" an incredulous Blitz asks. "It's meant to ward off one thing and one thing only : death. Such is the price of such a powerful spell." the prince clarifies. "Oh Blitz, Via is in grave danger ! We have to hurry ! This was the strongest spell I had, but even then, the protection it offers will not last eternally…" "I'm on it, big bird !" the imp exclaims, in a trademark mix of lighthearted enthusiasm and adamant seriousness, as he draws a comically large rocket launcher.

Meanwhile, in the frozen corridors of Stolas' ex-palace, a curious chase has begun. A furious Andrealphus, crawling through the halls like a monstrous, icy spider, is pursuing a frightened Via as an agitated Striker is dragging the poor girl by the hand. "We have to find an exit !" the owlet exclaims. "Thanks, I didn't notice !" comes the assassin's sarcastic answer, as he hastily tries to break a frozen door open, without success. "Listen up, princess, the only reason I'm sticking with you is because your fancy little trick is the only thing protecting us from your crazy uncle's powers…" As he says this, a swirl of glittery magic forms another barrier to block one of Andrealphus' ice blades. "You can run, Via, but daddy's spell won't protect you forever." the peacock vociferously declares, recoiling from the impact as his ice shatters against the sparkling shield. "Sooner or later, it. Will. Die. Out !" Evading the Marquis' assault, the improbable duo rushes into another hallway. "Now if that crowned head of yours could make itself useful and tell me where we can find a way out, that'd be appreciated…" the cowboy says, in a blend of irritated scorn and genuine nervousness…

And this is pretty much where the dream ended. I don't think it's even remotely close to what the future seasons have in store for us, but on a purely cinematographic level, I thought it was pretty neat. Now, what my waking mind made of it is probably much more detailed than what it really was, and I may have embellished a few parts, but still, it certainly made for a fun exercise. Anyway, I hope you found it somewhat entertaining. :3

[hellaversity]

Blitzker fans who not only hate Stolas but also try to make him look worse than a guy who kindapped and tried to kill Blitzø and his loved ones several times, as well as Charlastor fans who do the same with Vaggie, have somehow managed to convince me that "Die For Our Ship" is actually a real thing that happens in fandoms and not just a made-up scenario in the minds of people who can't take criticism of their faves.

[alastorssimpforever]

RADIORODEO SHIP WEEK PROMPT LIST 2025

Welcome to our niche rarepair ship of RadioRodeo which consists of the wonderful, charismatic Alastor the Radio Demon in Hazbin Hotel and Striker, the villainous cowboy in Helluva Boss. @terminallyuncapricious and I have been working on this ship week. They made the prompt list and I put together the poster.

Save the date (or week) for February 16th to the 23rd!

Day 1: Cowboy Ranch AU

Day 2: Branding/Horseplay

Day 3: Bloody Mission/Teeth

Day 4: Interrogation/Hog Tying

Day 5: Prize Buck/Homoerotic Cannibalism

Day 6: Blood play/Roughhousing

Day 7: Knife Play/Breeding Kink

Personally my own take on it is that these two are bloodthirsty, charming demons who don't seek redemption. They're a Helluva a power couple and if anything the two can find comfort in each other. Alastor is also confirmed to be Asexual but it is not clear on what scale and Striker is disgusted with sex. Perhaps they may connect on that as well. And if anything, they're a cute city boy/country boy dynamic <3

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Hello! Hope you're doing well, asked somebody else for this but I doubt they'll be active anytime soon ;')

Could I request Striker and ex lover!reader(G/N) who now works for Blitz?? Would appreciate it!!

I don't mind if headcanons or oneshot<3 advanced thank youuuu

"Traitorous" ; Striker, Blitzø

Honestly, no matter how the relationship ended, Striker doesn't think it's his fault. Like, at all. Even if it's blatantly something he did, he thinks you're overreacting.

"Babe, hun, y'know I'd never hurt'cha~. You're just overthinkin' again~."

He's shocked to hear that, no, you're done and you've finally had enough. That you're actually leaving him.

At first, he tries to convince himself that it's okay, that you're going to come crawling back just like always. Just like everyone always has once they've been dumped by him, just in reverse order.

But you don't.

And he doesn't like that.

He's a renowned hitman, of course, and he uses those skills to find out where the hell you went.

You're... working with the imp traitor?!

Oh, hell no.

He corners you after work on your way home, whether to your car or on your walk, and his tail lashes back and forth furiously.

"Really, S/O? Couldn't handle it without me, and that's the best y'could do?"

It's hard not to tell that he's pissed, every mannerism reeks of anger despite how masterfully he thinks he's hiding it.

He's pissed when he hears that you're actually doing perfectly fine... without him.

Wasn't he a part of your life once? Someone you always saw and loved? How could you just move on so easily, as if he never existed to you?

So he starts trying to get you back... but in a smarmy way, since he has no idea how to actually be soft.

"Baby, 'm sorry, y'know I won't do it again~. Why don'tcha just leave those little rodeo clowns and come back t'me, baby?"

He's more than a little discouraged when you tell him that, no, you're perfectly satisfied with where your life is.

He has truly... lost you.

The best thing he's ever had...

...and how it's gone...

[princessvickie]

PERSONAL STRIKER HEADCANNONS ♡‧₊˚

(general, romantic, physical.)

note : ahh i’ve been wanting to write about him for a while :,3333 my little snake dude !!!-!-!!—!! i freaking love him sm !! might write about him and my oc sooooown;)) this isn’t proof read sorry:(

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR HELLUVA BOSS EPS IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY WATCHED THE SHOW.

General

୨୧ I feel like Striker would be demisexual/romantic. He’d probably only be intimate with somebody after he put his whole trust and faith in them. It’s implied by S2 Ep4 that he’s lost the people that he cared about before, so It’s an explanation for his hostility. I also think he’d be Bisexual like js look at that one scene in Harvest Moon like i know he was trying to manipulate Blitz butttt;))..

୨୧ Loves mud fights and fist fights, won’t elaborate on this;).

୨୧ While rewatching Harvest Moon Festival, Striker looks a bit old fashioned and traditional compared to the other Imps. So i believe that he def gets his style from watching old western movies when he has the time.

୨୧ Constantly trying to get money for business phones, but he always breaks all of them in a fit of rage (a little canon).

୨୧ Fucking loves Bombproof with every fiber in his body and treats him like a baby in private, also I feel like he’d own more horses and call them his family.

୨୧ FAWKING LOVES HORSERIDING COMPETITIONS!!!! he almost always wins and then shows off Bombproof but never lets anybody touch him.

୨୧ Bombproof is def his main way of transportation but he’d probably have to drive a car once in a while. (he’s absolutely reckless and his vehicle is literally on life support and barely even working)

୨୧ His gold tooth is a souvenir and shines insanely bright.. he also wants to lose more teeth to replace them with prosthetic gold ones.

୨୧ Decent penmanship, despite his reckless and crazy personality. It’s not the best.. but at-least it’s legible…

Romantic

୨୧ In the scenario that he’d be in a relationship with somebody, he’d probably be a bit harsh/ or even cruel at first. He hasn’t experienced that type of shit in a while so he’s grown to know intimacy as a stranger. Striker has a tough shell.

୨୧ Once he’s warmed up to that person, he’d be super overprotective. He doesn’t want to lose another person, and to experience that grief again. Striker wouldn’t be the perfect partner because he still has some flaws within his personality due to being previously scarred, but he’d def ensure that the person he’s romantically involved in is comfortable and reciprocates the same feelings as well.

୨୧ Overall, Striker’s a bit inexperienced with romantic concepts but not completely unfamiliar with it. He wouldn’t mind showing affection, such as occasional cuddles or words of praise.

୨୧ also extra if he were to be your roommate, he’d be extremely messy.. like look at his lair shit is everywhere 😭.

Physical

୨୧ DEF MORE ROUGH AND MESSY HAIRRR. Work gets in the way of his personal hygiene and sometimes he forgets to cut it, making it grow a bit longer. Also fighting takes a lot of effort so no doubt it’s messy 😭.

୨୧ Longer gloves, maybe even normal non-fingerless ones. Striker kills people for a living and he’s legally wanted so I don’t think he’d leave his fingerprints behind that easily.

୨୧ Doesn’t always fight with his jacket, sometimes fights get messsyyy and he doesn’t have the time to keep washing it.

୨୧ okay sorry if I get bashed on this but I prefer norman reedus as his va.. NO HATE TO EDDD I FREAKING LOVE HIM BUT I LIKE THE HIGHER, RASPIER VOICE..

୨୧ snake-imp. Personally I don’t believe Striker to be half shark but everybody has their own headcannons. I also think he’d possess more animalistic features, such as moving around more snake-like and slithery.. def does this to confuse his targets,, like one moment he’s here and then u blink and he’s literally gone.

୨୧ honestly I feel like he’d have more scars on his body, especially his forearm/general arm area. He’s a literal assassin it’d be a little unbelievable if he didn’t have any remarkable scars.. and I also feel like he’d have one specific scar he’d show off and forget about all the other ones he has. but this is just my humble opinion!!!

[palatteflags]

Striker from Helluva Boss and Spaghetti Western based moodboard~ ^^ For an anon! Hope you like this~

Want one? Send an ask! -mod Jay

[peasthedumb]

Doodles of doods.