Summary: Oh my god, what a cowboy! I really want to ride him… I mean, go horseback riding with him.
Type: Romantic, Headcanon
Warning: Mmm NSFW, Blatant Flirting
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As the saying goes, save the horse, ride the cowboy.
He's a total gentleman, very respectful, but every gesture or movement he makes seems like he wants to gently seduce you and make you beg for more.
His favorite gesture is kissing your knuckles, gently taking your small hand and giving it a soft kiss. Does he like it? Yes. But he likes your reaction even more.
In public, he's cold and calculating, but in private, his gaze softens just for you. You'd never guess it, but he's extremely protective. If someone threatens you, that person "mysteriously" disappears the next day.
His displays of affection are unconventional. Instead of long hugs, he prefers discreet touch: a hand on your back guiding you, his tail gently tangling around your ankle while you sleep, or adjusting your shirt collar with unusual concentration.
He doesn't tolerate anyone approaching you with ill intentions. He's extremely jealous, but he shows it with cutting sarcasm toward anyone who dares to flirt with you, followed by a look that promises pain.
His conversations are full of double entendres and challenges. A "Honey, can you pass me the salt?" might be answered with "Are you sure? The last time I gave you something salty, you didn't stop complaining for a week…" with a mocking smile.
He lends you his hat; imagine it's a sunny day (it always is in the Ring of Wrath). Striker gives you his cowboy hat so the sun won't affect you so much.
His work is his priority. There will be nights when he's not there and you can't contact him. You have to accept that his life is dangerous and that he can't always give you explanations.
Introducing him to his "friends" is not an option. His only close acquaintance is his horse, and your human friends would probably think you're in a terribly toxic relationship (and they wouldn't be entirely wrong).
His grudge against demonic royalty is a cornerstone of his life. Accepting to be his partner means accepting that this hatred will always be there, and that your safety might depend on keeping a low profile to avoid attracting the attention of his powerful enemies.
His house would be a reflection of the two of you: discreet on the outside but with suspiciously luxurious interiors. You would have your own safe space, while his "office" has locks you'd rather not open. In the kitchen, he keeps his collection of exotic teas (and antidotes).
You would have a flawless fake identity. Striker is paranoidly meticulous about your safety, but sometimes uses your alibi for his work, leading to absurd situations like, "Why did your boyfriend bring you a Rolex from the same jewelry store that was robbed last night?"
For your anniversary, he would give you the head of that demon who gave you the evil eye last week, conveniently packaged like a bouquet. "It's symbolic, darling. Like roses, but with more meaning."
On rare occasions, when he's had too much to drink, he'll lead you in a slow waltz around the room, whispering in your ear all the weaknesses of the guests at the party you'll be infiltrating tomorrow.
He writes letters with invisible ink that only reveals itself with blood. The contents range from murder plots to declarations like, "Your smile cuts cleaner than my favorite knife."
He's taught you how to detect lies, how to place a tracker in three seconds, and how to use your lipsticks as cyanide capsules. You're annoyed by how proud he looks when you pass his tests.
Moxxie and Millie avoid him, but Blitzo sometimes hires them for team-up jobs. Those missions always end with, "Never again!"—until the next hefty paycheck.
His idea of "planning for the future" is buying land in Hell's rings with good appreciation potential and making sure your will is bulletproof (and demon-proof).
If you ever talk about kids, he'll turn pale (even more than usual). "Raise someone in this rotten world? I'd rather train him to be the greatest assassin in history." You're terrified by how seriously he's not joking.
At 3 AM, he sometimes wakes up startled, his tail twitching around your wrist like a frightened child. They never speak of it the next day.
He isn't afraid of death or archangels. His only terror is that one day you'll look at him with the same contempt he feels for nobles. That fear makes him more careful with you than with any weapon.
**STUMBLES OVER MYSELF AS I WATCHED A SNEAK PEAK OF THE NEXT EP IN HELLUVA BOSS**
YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THE SELF INSERT PLOT IDEA I GOT WHEN THE PILOT ARRIVED IS ACTUALLY GONNA BE USED AS A PLOT POINT-
.......
Nope, not gonna make it its own post, it's cringe to me now and was honestly just one of my ways of getting out some frustration as I started coming to terms with bottoming more. Just gonna write what it was here. (Note from the future. I did it again. I went way in detail. Im a fucking idiot.)
My first take of a self insert was, of course, a hellhound because I'm a fucking furry I'm sorry. It was a small hellhound with big ears and a real people-pleaser personality named Luni (I used this name a lot in my teens lmao). They were caught by a 'Pound' essentially (had an idea that there's where unemployed and unwanted hellhounds are called 'strays' and get put there instead of shelters). They live terrified of the consequences if they can't find work soon.
After a big fight with Blitz, Loona runs away and hasn't been back for weeks. Blitz is beside himself with worry, putting up flyers, being unable to work without sobbing. The M&Ms are sympathetic, but worried that this is hindering their progress, so Millie gets the idea to go with Blitz to the Pound to see if she's there.
They ask for a Loona, but get saddled with Luni. This is not Blitz's daughter, obviously. Blitz is outraged and is about to storm out of the room to yell at the person in charge, but Luni is on the floor clutching at his legs and begging to be given a chance. They just need work, any work, please please please, they'll be good at anything, anything please! They have the biggest puppy eyes, their whines getting to Millie and she reminds Blitz they need a receptionist. This only angers him more as he reminds her that's Loona's position, but Millie suggests that maybe Luni could just... do it in the meantime. Then they can have them do something else like... cleaning?
Luni perks up and agrees, overselling how good they are at keeping things clean, getting a giggle out of Millie. Both of them look at Blitz with pleading expressions and Blitz caves.But they won't be his responsibility. He's not happy about it, but under Millie's name, meaning she has be the one to look over Luni.
Luni is quick to pick up on what to do, and does a fantastic job at getting things done. It's... annoying for Blitz, who is still heartbroken over his daughter, more so as he sees Luni get along better and start having a bit of a familial relationship with Millie and Moxxie. Luni is a good worker, a good friend, a good person.
Then, finally, Loona comes back. She storms into work right after a client leaves, not even lookinf up from her phone as Blitz rushes to hug her and cry. It's a big deal as both sides try very awkwardly to talk things out, Loona confesses that she's been avoiding Blitz by staying at different people's houses. She doesn't apologize for not contacting him, but largely, Blitz can't stay mad at her and is just happy she's safe. Everything is seemingly smoothed out... until Loona looks over his horns at her desk.
Luni is freaking out as their eyes lock, and in an instant, Loona is puffed up and growling, indignant at having been replaced as Luni turns tail and hides under the desk.
A screaming match later with Moxxie and Millie coming to defend Luni, Blitz trying to mediate, Loona baring her teeth with every word and Luni whimpering behind the M&Ms later, things are somewhat resolved. For now.
Luni is going to be an assistant for Loona, stay in the office with her and help keep things orderly. Loona isn't happy still, a mix of emotions and hellhound territorial-ism seeping in. Luni feels the agression keenly and is doing their best throughout the oncoming days to be as submissive as possible. Loona was very on edge at first... then she started realizing how much she can take advantage of this. Now Luni is doing most of her work without a whimper of complaint. Even going above the usual stuff, like running dumb errands, responding to calls meant for her... and giving her massages.
It started as a joke to see how much Loona could get them to do, but Luni was surprisingly good at it. Now it's a constant whenever the others are away to give Loona back massages.
Things escalate the more time they spend together. Loona enjoys having power over the tinier hound and making them tremble, but there's been times when they've been admittedly nice to be around. Like times after more annoying comments from Blitz that make her snap. Loona started a pattern of being mean to Luni after these fights as a way to de-stress, but after one that got too real, she got caught crying. Loona was horrified Luni was watching her, tried doubling back on her intimidation, twisting the knife with every new insult as she cornered the dog and pinned them to the wall, snarling and biting. Luni didn't complain or cry, they just kept looking at Loona with worry and risked their hand getting bitten as they tried brushing a tear from her face. Loona growled as she grasped their wrist tightly but let them go. She hasn't used them to vent those frustrations since.
Loona doesn't want to admit to their anger being replaced by growing feelings of fondness. Luni is a tiny pathetic whimp and that's all there is to it. There's nothing about them Loona can possibly like other than their usefulness.
But then, there's a day when Loona gets roped up into taking Luni with her to a party. It was involuntary, Luni was just kind of forced on her by Millie. Loona is annoyed and Luni is terrified of their first party. Despite her grievances, Loona steps up and helps them with their outfit, gives them the ins and outs on what to do in certain situations, walks them over to the house its at... then leaves them to fend for themself. Loona thought that should be it, she came with a mission to get the attention of a guy she liked and babysitting Luni was not going to impede that.
She successfully kept ignoring their presence as they stumbled everywhere, getting closer to her target as the night went on. She finally got him alone a long time after, everything was perfect, Loona was about to be kissed but-
She caught Luni smiling and laughing with another hellhound. A very attractive one at that.
Loona couldn't stop herself as she pushed her target away. All her pining and yearning for him went out the window as he called her name but she kept walking, storming to pick Luni up and leave.
They stop somewhere away from the party, but still not close to either's home, at a dark alley. Loona has her freak out there, back to her usual vile insults and pushiness as she accuses Luni of ruining her night and her chance at getting some action. Luni is so used to Loona's outbursts, they know to nod along and to keep apologizing and to stay submissive. They're so submissive.
Loona points this out and calls them a whore for punishment. They'll take any abuse and attention, like that nobody from the party they kept mooning about. Maybe she shouldn't have stepped up and gotten them out. Maybe they would've preferred going home with a stranger.
Luni jumps in finally, the anxiety winning as they insist like their life depended on it that they would've never gone with anyone anywhere without Loona. They would've waited for her at the house if anything happened.
This surprises Loona... the answer is something that coincides with Luni's usual 'good dog' behavior but it still felt ridiculous. The lengths of their stupid loyalty.
'You're so fucking pathetic.'
Before either realize what's happening, Loona has their head in her hands, nails dug into their skin as they're brought up to a kiss.
Summary: Being Verosika Mayday's partner means living amidst glamour, chaos, fame, sensuality, and a demon who loves you far more than she lets on.
Type: Romance, Headcanons
Warning: Intense flirting, hints of mild jealousy, provocative personality.
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Wherever you go, the cameras will follow you. Hell's royal paparazzi are constantly on your heels. You'll have to get used to appearing in Hell's news and gossip magazines, often with exaggerated headlines.
She flaunts you on Hell's social media. Photos together, behind-the-scenes videos, selfies with ridiculous filters. Her fans are obsessed with you as a couple.
In public, Verosika is possessive and flirtatious to mark her territory, but always with that cool, slightly distant air. She'll never openly admit she's in love in front of the cameras, only that you're "the only one worthy of her time and of touching her."
She'd leave notes written in lipstick on the bathroom mirror: "You're mine. And I'm yours. Don't forget it."
After a long day of filming, she'd curl up next to you on the sofa, without a trace of makeup, and say in a husky voice, "Your silence is my favorite song."
You spend a lot of time traveling. The tour bus is a sanctuary of decadent luxury: expensive bottles, furs, neon lights, and often, her band's succubi sleeping off hangovers everywhere.
Your own VIP area: Verosika makes sure you have your own space on the bus and backstage, far from the chaos of her entourage. It's where you can expect a bowl of your favorite snack and a love note written in lipstick on the mirror.
Imagine a night that begins with a private concert just for you, followed by dinner on Pentagram City's most exclusive terrace, and ends with a nighttime stroll while she composes a new song inspired by your relationship.
Mild jealousy and intense flirting:
Fan warning: If a fan or demon gets too close or flirts too much, she intervenes swiftly. Not violently, but with a comment so cutting and humiliating that the intruder retreats in shame.
Your confirmation: After these incidents, she corners you backstage for an intense flirting session (and maybe more) to remind you—and herself—why you're together.
Behind closed doors and away from the spotlight, Verosika's "bitch" facade crumbles. She lets you see the exhausted, insecure, and surprisingly shy demon hiding beneath the makeup and sequins.
Her way of loving is through small luxuries and comfort. She draws you a bath with hellish bath salts, gives you foot massages after a long day, or simply cuddles with you in silence, feeling safe for once.
You're the only person she allows to ignore her fame and treat her like a normal person. She adores you for not being one of her sycophants and for being the anchor of calm in her inherently chaotic life.
If Blitzo were to appear:"What's that clown looking at? I'm over that phase, honey. You're the one who really understands me…" He grabs your arm possessively.
In private, she has surprisingly sweet and affectionate nicknames that she would never use in public. If she accidentally says one in front of the band, she turns bright red and threatens to kill you if you mention it.
Verosika sings songs just for you.
When you're alone, she delicately takes her microphone and dedicates short, improvised melodies to you. Sometimes they're romantic… Sometimes not so innocent.
The backstage of the massive concert hall was buzzing with energy. Staff ran around adjusting lights, checking microphones, and making sure everything was perfect for Verosika Mayday’s big show. But inside her private dressing room, the only sound that mattered was the low, needy hum coming from Verosika’s throat.
She had you pressed against the wall, her pink skin glowing under the vanity lights. Her stage outfit — a tiny black and pink top that barely contained her breasts and a short skirt that showed off her long legs — was already slightly disheveled.
“I’m so fucking nervous tonight, baby…” she purred against your neck, her tail wrapping around your thigh. “I need my favorite vocal warm-up.”
You smiled, running your hands down her waist.
“Then let me help you, superstar.”
Verosika kissed you deeply, hungry and possessive, before dropping to her knees with a mischievous grin. She looked up at you with those seductive heart-shaped eyes as she unzipped your pants and pulled your cock out, already hard for her.
“Mmm… there’s my favorite microphone,” she teased.
Without wasting time, she wrapped her soft lips around the head and took you into her warm, wet mouth. Verosika Mayday was an expert at this — she sucked you slowly at first, swirling her tongue around the tip while her hand stroked the base. Then she took you deeper, relaxing her throat until her nose pressed against your abdomen.
“Fuck… Verosika…” you groaned, threading your fingers through her long pink hair.
She hummed around your cock, the vibration sending pleasure straight through you. She bobbed her head faster, sucking noisily, saliva dripping down her chin as she worked you with practiced skill. Every few seconds she pulled back to lick along the underside or kiss your balls, looking up at you with pure lust.
“You like that, baby?” she whispered, stroking you fast. “You’re gonna cum down my throat before I go on stage?”
You were getting close when she suddenly stood up, turned around and bent over the makeup table, flipping her skirt up. She wasn’t wearing panties.
“Your turn,” she demanded softly. “Warm me up properly.”
You dropped to your knees behind her and buried your face between her thighs. Verosika moaned loudly the second your tongue touched her wet pussy. You licked her slowly, savoring her sweet taste, then focused on her swollen clit, sucking it gently while sliding two fingers inside her.
“Yes… just like that~” she moaned, pushing back against your face. “Fuck, your tongue is so good…”
You ate her out with devotion — licking, sucking, and fucking her with your fingers while she gripped the edge of the table. Her tail wrapped around your head, holding you in place as her hips rolled against your mouth.
“Baby… I’m gonna cum—” she whimpered.
You sucked her clit harder and curled your fingers just right. Verosika came with a beautiful, melodic moan, her thighs trembling around your head as she flooded your tongue.
She didn’t give herself time to recover. She turned around, pushed you back into the chair and straddled you. In one smooth motion, she sank down onto your cock, taking every inch inside her tight, dripping heat.
“Oh my god… yes…” she gasped, starting to ride you immediately.
Her hips moved like a dancer — rolling and bouncing on you with perfect rhythm. You gripped her ass, helping her move faster as she kissed you sloppily, moaning into your mouth.
“Cum inside me, baby,” she whispered against your lips. “Fill me up before I go sing for all those losers…”
You couldn’t hold back. With a deep groan you thrust up into her and came hard, pumping rope after rope of cum deep inside her. Verosika moaned sweetly as she felt you filling her, grinding down to take every drop.
She stayed seated on you for a few moments, catching her breath, gently kissing your face.
“You always know exactly how to warm up my voice…” she purred, nuzzling your neck. “I’m gonna sound so fucking good tonight… and it’s all because of you.”
She stood up slowly, your cum already starting to drip down her thigh. With a wicked smile she pulled her skirt back down and fixed her top.
“Wish me luck, babe,” she said, blowing you a kiss. “And stay backstage… I want round two right after the show.”
Summary:Some friends invited you to a Verosika Mayday concert, and she knows how to satisfy a freaky human like you.
Type: Romantic, One-shot
Warning:NSFW,semi public sex, orgy, succubus
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The concert was electric.
Verosika Mayday’s human tour had sold out in minutes, and you were lucky enough to get tickets thanks to your friends. The arena was packed, lights flashing pink and purple, bodies moving to the heavy beat of her music. In her human form, she looked dangerously beautiful — long pink hair cascading down her back, curves hugged by a tiny black and pink stage outfit, and those hypnotic eyes that seemed to glow under the spotlights.
You were in the VIP section, close enough to the stage that you could see the sweat glistening on her skin. She moved like pure sex — grinding against the microphone stand, biting her lip, eyes scanning the crowd like she was hunting.
And then her gaze landed on you.
She didn’t look away. Instead, a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips as she sang the next line directly toward you.
After the concert, while your friends were still screaming and taking photos, a tall security guard approached you.
“Miss Mayday wants to see you backstage. Now.”
Your heart hammered as you were escorted through a private hallway. The door to her dressing room opened, and there she was — Verosika, still in her human form, wiping sweat from her neck with a towel. The room smelled like vanilla, smoke, and something sweet and dangerous.
“Well, well…” she purred, locking the door behind you. “Look at you. Such a pretty little human. I could smell how turned on you were from the stage.”
Before you could respond, she was on you — pushing you against the wall, her mouth claiming yours in a hungry kiss. Her tongue was hotter than it should be, and you felt a wave of lust crash over you like succubus magic.
“You’re freaky, aren’t you?” she whispered against your lips, biting the bottom one. “I like that.”
She dragged you toward the large couch in the corner. Clothes came off fast — your shirt, her stage top, your pants. Verosika pushed you down and straddled you, grinding slowly against your growing arousal.
But she wasn’t done.
With a snap of her fingers, the door opened again. Two of her backup dancers — both stunning in their human disguises — entered with wicked smiles.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Verosika cooed, kissing down your chest. “They’re here to help me take care of you.”
One of them knelt between your legs, taking you into her mouth with practiced skill while Verosika kissed you deeply, her hand wrapping around your throat just enough to make you dizzy. The other dancer kissed your neck, sucking marks into your skin while her hands roamed your body.
Verosika pulled back just enough to watch your face as pleasure overwhelmed you.
“Look at you… falling apart so beautifully,” she moaned, grinding harder against your thigh. “Such a good little human. So eager to be used by a succubus.”
You couldn’t hold back. The combination of mouths, hands, and Verosika’s overwhelming presence pushed you over the edge. You came hard, groaning into her mouth as she swallowed your sounds.
But she wasn’t finished.
Verosika pushed you flat on the couch and sank down onto you, taking you deep inside her with a satisfied moan. She rode you with perfect rhythm, her hips rolling like she was still performing on stage.
“Fuck… you feel so good,” she gasped, nails digging into your chest. “I’m keeping you tonight. Maybe longer.”
The other two dancers kissed and touched both of you, turning the encounter into a sweaty, overwhelming blur of pleasure. Verosika never stopped looking at you — like you were her favorite new toy.
When you finally came again, deep inside her, she leaned down and whispered against your ear:
“Welcome to my world, baby… Hope you didn’t have plans tomorrow.
Attention! 🚨
Requests are open ✨ I have free time, so you can ask me for anything you want.
Of course, I'll only accept what makes me feel comfortable 💖, but other than that, I make all kinds of content 👀
👉 Don't hesitate to ask!
Fandoms (I play from many fandoms, I may miss one but don't hesitate to ask me and specify which fandom your character is from.):
Hazbin Hotel-Helluba Boss (hellaverse)
Anime(Bnha,One Piece,Nnt,Naruto,and so on )
Cartoons(Disney,Steven Universe,Miraculous,and so on)
Games(Fnaf,call of duty,cuphead,undertale,sonic,and so on)
Type of relation:
Platonic(Friends,father,mother,sis,and so on)
Romantic
Yandere
------
Lesbians
Gays
Genderbend
non-binary
Type of request:
One-Shot
Headcanons
Preferences
Type of content:
Fluff
Soft
Comforting
Angst
Spicy
Yandere
NSFW
I'll try to put all the fandoms I request from in the tags, I might forget one hahaha
