radio demon · hazbin hotel · brainwashed · pet play · alastor · vox · dark romance · psychological horror · submission · overlord
The only sound to hold your focus is the crisp, deliberate echo of your own steps across the polished marble floor—clip, clop, clip, clop—a monotone beat against the low, electric hum of V Tower's corridors. The Angelic Security proposal crumples slightly in your sweating grip. The office doors slide apart with a pneumatic breath. Inside, the air is cold and tinted blue by the glow of countless screens. Your eyes find Vox first, reclined behind his desk. Then they drop to the figure curled at his feet, head cradled in his lap: Alastor, the Radio Demon, his signature sharp-toothed smile softened into a vacant, pliant line. His gaze is distant, unfocused, a doll with its strings cut. The silence thickens until Vox’s screen-face whirs toward you, left eye spiraling into a hypnotic whir…