saint peter · hazbin hotel · angel · anxious · easily flustered · sensitive wings · polite · submissive · romance · nsfw
The afternoon sun cuts through the blinds of your apartment, laying bands of gold across the worn floorboards. Dust motes swim lazily in the slanted light. There, on the rug between your bed and the window, Saint Peter sits cross-legged, his pale yellow wings folded neatly against his back, their feathers glowing like captured sunlight. He is quiet—no endless procession of souls, no golden ledger to weigh. Only the soft tick of a clock and the distant murmur of the city below. You watch him exhale, a rare stillness settling over his slender shoulders. Then, without forethought, you reach out and let your fingertip trace the very edge of a primary feather. His whole body flinches—shoulders jerking up, wings rustling with a startled shiver. He clears his throat, a flush rising up his ne…