relieved, aren't you? i’ll protect you

I love this drawing an unreasonable amount

:3c if anyone sees this, can you give me suggestions/ideas on what to draw

(it can be anything! Just send an ask or a comment or anything you're comfortable with!)

just so you know! you guys can keep sending reqs! It'll take me some time to get to them tho... I don't really have any rules? Just nothing too explicit ie. seggs, gore, anything hateful is also no.

I also don't mind drawing any characters (including ocs) but I'll probably be very picky and will probably? pick characters from fandoms that I'm in/know

They're quivering again.

The first time, Robin convinces herself that she must’ve imagined it. She brushes it off and continues her conversation with her brother - detailing all of the things she’d seen during her tour throughout the cosmos while he listens patiently, as he always has.

But then comes a second, and a third, and then a fourth time, and Robin knows that she isn’t hallucinating from a lack of sleep.

It doesn’t help that Sunday’s eyes aren’t exactly focused either. Usually, they’re soft and attentive, reflecting how eagerly he listens to her stories. But today, they’re distracted - honed in on something in the distance as if caught in a daze. And those wings of his - fluttering ever so slightly, a tell-tale sign that has Robin smiling knowingly.

ty for the suggestion @child-of-man

I struggled a lot with his clothes but i hope u like it!

Sosknsissj amazing!! Keep it up!!!

Thank you!! and I'll try!!!

˗ˏˋ LOOK AT ME ALREADY ࿐ྂ

- all the time, and he needs to be SPOILED.

- he won’t say it, though. he’ll just grumble, trace circles on paper and expect you to understand that he needs you.

- he also touches his hair a lot, hoping that you’d notice him.

- when you do pay attention to him, it’s often not enough. so he lets his eyes linger on yours a little longer, later narrowing them with furrowed brows if you still don’t give him what he needs.

- he physically can’t communicate how badly he needs you to kiss him, hold him, call him sweet names— anything.

- and it’s not a matter of maintaining dignity, he would beg for your attention if only he wasn’t so concerned about why you aren’t him giving any.

- instead of a “can we cuddle?” it comes out as a “are you mad at me? did i do something wrong?”

- “no?”

- oh you sound annoyed (you aren’t).

- “if you say so..” suddenly he’s not cutely sulking anymore, he’s tense— fidgeting with his glove.

- thank god it doesn’t take you long to notice his nervousness, he wouldn’t have had the guts to ease his worries himself.

- robin kept track; sunday can average roughly around a day before he calls you if you aren’t physically there with him, and if you are with him, then he can only manage a couple of minutes.

- as for how much.. preferably, he’d want an abundance of affection, but he’s content with whatever you can give him in the moment.

- you can usually tell when he needs attention, he’s more obvious than he’d like. he’s nibbling at his bottom lip impatiently, or bouncing his leg, or occasionally flicking his gaze to you which is almost always accompanied by a forlorn visage.

- eventually, you give in. sunday is too much like an abandoned puppy for you to ignore.

- “remember me now?” he stubbornly frowns as you approach him with a guilty smile.

- “you can’t blame me for wanting to see you look so dejected, and cute!”

- that’s okay, he’s already forgiven you by the time you’ve planted a much needed kiss on his cheek.

aventurine who loves affectionate mornings.

nothing beats waking up to your soft murmurs — sometimes cranky — which never fail to elicit an amused chuckle from him.

“mm.. five more minutes, pleaaase..” you whine into into your pillow.

sigh— he simply cannot resist leaving pretty bruises on your neck, gently rubbing your hips with his palms all the while.

“you don’t want to see me off? hmm?” he teases, but there’s truth in his desire to have you peck him goodbye before he has to leave for work.

he retracts his slender fingers that had been trailing you body, now placing them snuggly against your cheek.

‘one,’ he counts inwardly, ‘two, three.. four.’

alas, as smug as he may be, his routine habit of counting how many kisses he’s given you still remains. it grounds him— he finds it to be so.. weirdly reassuring.

maybe it’s the way his body grows warmer, deflecting all the cold he feels. the kind of warmth that only you can offer him.

sunday who loves watching you do your makeup.

a familiar red hue crawls onto his cheeks every time he observes you. you’re so enchanting when you’re focused, he can’t get enough.

the way you press your lips together with a tiny ‘pop’ when you’ve finished applying your gloss, or, his favourite, when your spritz setting spray all over your face.

god— sunday watches your nose scrunch so cutely as the mist reaches your skin, and the glistens it leaves, like silver glitter sprinkled perfectly across your features.

his mouth is left slightly parted as he absorbs your divinity. he doesn’t break out of his trance until he hears a giggle, just another endearing action of yours.

make no mistake, sunday has good control over his composure, but what can a man do when a competitor to idrila themselves is his to behold?

two sides of the same sketchy coin