#attractive man

[marudarts]

you’re looking at sleepless night… and Jim Hawkins ofc

[thejestersmelody]

𓄿 John Childermass 𓄿

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦-𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘳.𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘳. 𝘍𝘰𝘹𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵. 𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳,𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘵, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵; 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨,𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳.

-𝘑𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘔𝘳 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭

[autumn-girl-blogger]

WHY, WHY IN THIS character is so HOT AND ATTRACTIVE 🤭🤭😩

[fishthegenderwitch]

Well goodness.

I have had a dreamy crush on Ben Barnes for literal years, and a man walked in today who looked like him IMMENSELY.. greeted me like a friend and started chatting me up about.. everything. It was mesmerizing. I am enthralled.

It was this man with lighter hair and blue eyes. I know his name. He asked mine and introduced himself, after talking for 20 minutes.

Today is s goshdarn great day.

[froody]

“can straight men be romantically and sexually attracted to men?” sure, I’m not a cop

[why-are-all-of-my-usernames-gone]

@dead-minecraft-fandoms

unleash me ( wizard's tower as a prison)

[pigswithwings]

honestly i am such a sucker for machines being cared for. like? please be gentle. i am not like you. this is my body, please be careful. i do not think like you. i do not work like you, or breathe like you. please be kind. please act kindly. you have me in your hands so please, please show mercy. i was made for a purpose, but that purpose was never intimacy. please show me what this is

[paintedcrows]

Introducing RoyalAuthor! ...I cannot stop thinking about these old man scientists...

[darkness-falls-tarot]

And suddenly it’s 2014 again for me. Damn it Sebastian Stan!

SEBASTIAN STAN Attends the 2024 CFDA Awards.

[sweet-like-maribou]

After a mission...

... and that was Miles' bisexual awakening, i think.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

...Turns out gay sex actually was the solution.

(This is basically a redraw, come read the real deal over at Tiger Tiger)

[edlucavalden]

Oh my god.. this post was cooking i had to..

[choccy-milky]

dad seb dad seb dad seb 💕

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Another day, another union CPD session on LGBT+ language in use in which I had to break in and correct the guy running it on the definition of bisexuality

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Protective Simon. For the beautiful and talented @lethalchiralium

Simon’s phone is ringing. 

Price raises an eyebrow from the end of the table, pausing mid-sentence, confused. Simon’s phone never rings. It’s always on full volume, because he never gets phone calls, except for ones from the 141, and they’re all here. At this briefing.  

His fingers find the ringer, ready to silence what he’s sure is a nuisance call, some telemarketer or robot, when he reads your name across the screen. 

You’ve never called him before. Unease tightens across his chest, and without any explanation, he excuses himself from the room and the bewildered looks being cast his way. 

“Hey, you-“

“Simon?” You sound off. Like you’re trying to be calm, but there’s something lingering on the edge of your voice, something scared. His spine goes stiff. 

It’s enough to propel him into action, his fist thumping against the window of the brief room, jerking his head south. I’m leaving, the motion signifies. Emergency.

“What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing. Just… there’s this guy that’s been like, half a block behind me since I got off the train.” He closes his eyes. The fucking train. He wants you to stop taking the train. He needs you to stop taking the train. 

“He followed you from the platform?” 

“Well, he could be walking this way too…” 

“Where are you?” His keys are already in his hand, and he’s running down the hallway, past bewildered administrative staff and everyone else, bursting through the back door and into the truck. His phone chimes with multiple text messages, Price, Johnny, Gaz. All wondering where the hell he ran off to. Only Johnny’s text scratches the surface: Is it your neighbor? He waits another second in silence, hoping you’re trying to get your bearings. “Sweetheart?” 

“I’m… I think we’re coming up on seventh and Warsail. ‘m not too sure. I’ve kind been walking in a roundabout way.” We’re coming up on seventh… we. 

The baby is with you. 

His foot slams the accelerator onto the floor, counting his breaths as he maneuvers each turn in the road. Do you have the stroller? Are you carrying her? Did this guy peg you as an easy target because he knows what Simon knows, that women are more likely to go along with instruction if their child is threatened? That you’d never leave Emmaline behind? That you’d do anything to protect her? 

He feels sick. 

“Are there other people around?” He’s calm on the phone, trying to visualize the street, the buildings, the alleys. Easy spots where cars could reach the highway in seconds, and then be gone. Cramped alleys that connect to others like tangled webs, able to swallow a human being easy, disappear them into the darkness. It makes his stomach turn over. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard; it hurts.

“Yeah, it’s close to the end of the day, so-“ 

“Stay where others can see you. Are you sure you’re on seventh and Warsail?” 

“Yeah. We’re in that park. I-I… wanted to take Emma to see the ducks.” Your voice wavers. “Simon he’s still behind us.” He’s turning the corner now, a block from your cross streets, and instead of yielding for oncoming traffic like he should, he floors it through an intersection, abandoning the truck still on, half parked in an empty street spot.  “Stay where you are, sweetheart. Okay? I’m coming.” 

“You… wait, what? You’re what?” He doesn’t hang up, but keeps the phone against his ear, and takes off down the street in a sprint, fully subscribed to the worst-case scenarios that have been building in his mind, images of you and Emmaline bloody and bruised, or worse. He gets them confused for a moment, memories mixing with the present, two things swirling together until they become indistinguishable, noise and panic roaring too loudly in his head. 

It all comes screeching to a stop. 

He spots you in the park. You do have the stroller, and you’re by the little pond, headphones in, Emmaline in your arms, her little beanie pulled down over her ears. You’re glancing around, nervous, saying his name into the mic. He scans the rest of the faces, passing over anyone who doesn’t strike him as a creepy git, until he finds his target: a skinny, younger guy lurking on the edge of the fence line, watching you. He hangs up the phone and moves across the park involuntarily, rolling his shoulders, and he vaguely sees you from the corner of his eye, mouth dropped open in shock, faintly calling his name. 

“Hey, mate. C’mere.” He shouts, half the people in the vicinity startling in his direction. Everyone seems to move away, like a magnetic force, pulsing outwards as he overtakes the guy with an easy grab to his upper arm. “You like stalking women with babies?” He hisses in his ear, voice low with barely contained rage. The guy is younger than him, but rail thin, and coked out. Probably looking for money. Simon jerks him closer, and he actually yells for help, like he’s a victim. It’s enough to ground the situation, making Simon realize he has an audience, and he grits out a final warning before shoving him away. “I ever see you around my girls again… I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Piss off.” 

“What did he say?” You’re frantic, rubbing Emmaline’s back in a circular pattern, over and over like you’re trying to calm her, even though she’s perfectly content. It’s you who needs soothing, he realizes, and he takes your hand without questioning it, letting his instincts guide him in regard to you without overthinking it. 

“He was high, love. Looking for money.” He doesn’t want to scare you but… he doesn’t despise the idea of instilling some hypervigilance. Maybe this will convince you not to take the train. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Think I scared him off for good though.” He looks around, and then slips off his mask, wide thumb stroking a soft touch on Emma’s cheek before giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright now.” You visibly relax, but don’t let go of his hand, tilting your face up to his, all bright and beautiful, still coming down from the adrenaline of your fear with a whisper on your lips, meant for only him to hear. 

“Our hero.”