#daddy ned

[mageswithcats]

Me liking the villain/antagonist:

[venusbyline]

Time for the ASOIAF stans who are into age gap and (REALLY) older men hahahah

[rise-my-angel]

I may not be a fan anymore of the MCU, but I'll be damned if Gaurdians of the Galaxy 2 didn't put my "Ned is Jons real dad" hot take up onto a golden pedestal with this banger: "He may have been your father, boy. But he wasn't your daddy."

[rabid-dog-steve-horn]

Simpsons fans and wrestling fans, here's something for you all to enjoy.

[gaygollum]

been rewatching pushing daisies (bad for me!) and my entire brain is just lee pace as ned the piemaker. i want this mans hand in marriage!!!

[bidamonalbarn]

cannot stop singing the new fox szn song 😭

[mirabellemoira]

I’ve always appreciated Ned stark but hmmmm ever since I realized the NedAlicent potential the man has become very, very hot

[maelisdrafts]

Our Secret Garden - Prologue

An Oberyn Martell x f!oc fiction

Synopsis:

This is the tale of two souls as different as fire and ice, snow and sand—two opposites who seem destined never to coexist. How could they ever find harmony? The odds are stacked against them, their differences insurmountable. Yet, every so often, Fate steps in with a twist, transforming the impossible into reality. After all, even the harshest deserts have, on rare occasions, been graced by snow. And sometimes, against all logic, opposites don’t just attract—they create something extraordinary.

Masterlist

Oberyn I - 279 AC

Oberyn always thrived in big crowds. He loved the loudness and the attention that came with it. However, tonight, he couldn’t find it in himself to enjoy the party. He should have been happy; after all, it was his dear sister’s wedding to a prince—a match only little girls dared to dream of. But that was exactly the problem. Elia was now married to Prince Rhaegar, the Mad King’s son. And now, his sister was to live in King’s Landing, surrounded by danger, while he and his brother remained in Dorne, the sea separating them.

Oberyn was worried, and he couldn’t do anything about it. In the middle of the room, Elia was dancing in the arms of her husband, a wide smile decorating her face. She was glowing. The marriage was sealed, the vows had been said, and yet Oberyn couldn’t help but feel as though he had failed his little sister—the one he had sworn to protect many moons ago.

With his head lost in thoughts, Oberyn moved towards the gardens. He needed to get away from the overwhelming sounds he usually enjoyed so much. Once outside, the loudness faded, and finally, he could breathe. He looked around him.

“How disappointing,” he thought. These royal gardens were nothing compared to the Water Gardens waiting for him in Dorne. How he wished he could go back in time, back to when Elia and he would spend endless hours watching the night sky and admiring the stars.

He started walking away from the castle, stopping in front of a fountain. Atop it stood a dragon, an eternal reminder of the ruling family that had just taken the most important part of him away. After glaring at the statue for gods know how long, he finally tore his gaze away and began walking deeper into the garden, farther from the celebrations.

As he looked around carelessly, his eyes stopped on the bushes at the far end of the gardens. As he inspected it a bit closer, he noticed an opening breaking the perfect symmetry of the vegetation. Oberyn glanced back at the party. It likely wouldn’t end until the early hours of the morning, and it was barely past midnight. He figured he had time for a small excursion. Besides, he was too intrigued to walk away.

Was it curiosity driving him, or perhaps the wine? He knew he had indulged in one too many glasses, clouding his better judgment. But he didn't care. He needed that distraction.

Hesitantly, the newly titled prince approached the opening. Once he stood next to it, he noted that the top of the gap reached just a bit higher than his thighs. He looked down at his attire: a yellow robe, the color of his house, similar to the ones he wore back home, except for the intricate golden details sewn to form little suns stabbed by spears—the symbols of House Martell. On his belt, instead of a simple loop, there was the head of a viper with rubies for eyes. His clothes must have taken an incredible amount of time to craft, yet despite his respect for the robe’s makers, he felt no guilt as he lowered himself to the ground. Curiosity had won.

But was it really curiosity fueling his actions, or was it his need to escape his reality, to keep his mind occupied with something—anything—else? He didn’t know, and truthfully, it didn’t matter.

As he crossed the threshold, his eyes widened at the scene unfolding before him. Bathed in moonlight, at the heart of a small clearing, stood a gazebo crafted delicately from the finest metal. Vegetation had taken over, with the reddest flowers he had ever seen climbing over its roof. In the background, at the bottom of the cliff that marked the garden’s edge, the relentless sea crashed against the shore, creating an ethereal rhythm.

As Oberyn drew closer to the intricate structure, he noticed a statue standing between the gazebo and the abyss. Intrigued, he walked toward it. The statue depicted a woman, carved so realistically it seemed as if she might move at any moment.

A soft breeze began, likely stirred by the waves, guided by the moon.

Oberyn stopped breathing.

The woman, whom he had thought carved from the most exquisite marble, came to life. It started with her hair, gently swayed by the wind, then her arms, which moved to wrap around her body to shield herself from the chill.

Oberyn, as if in a trance, took a step forward—and accidentally made his presence known as his foot snapped a twig beneath it.

Startled by the sound, the woman turned to face him. The young prince froze.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t help but think that the lady before him, with her startled, doe-like gaze, was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her skin was pearly white, perfectly complemented by her dress, which seemed to glow under the moonlight. Her hair was the darkest shade of black, deeper than a night devoid of stars and moon. And her lips… gods, her lips. The red flowers adorning the gazebo paled in comparison.

Her chestnut eyes were locked on his, and all he could do was pray they would never look away. Why were the gods granting him this sight? He couldn’t comprehend it. This, surely, must be the heavens so many longed for.

As he marvelled at her beauty, he heard the most enchanting sound—a voice more divine than the intricate melodies played at the party.

“Who are you?” she asked, her words carried on the breeze.

“Oberyn Martell,” he answered after a pause, stumbling over his words under the weight of her gaze. “Who are you?” he asked in return, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

The breeze carried his question to her, and once more, she spoke:

“Eira Stark.”

[calisources]

SEAN BEAN AS LORD EDDARD STARK IN HBO'S GAME OF THRONES ALL APPEARANCES.

base icons are 190x120 in order to be use for any type of icon template.

the icons are already sharpened and slightly color corrected.

Sean Bean ( b. 1959 ) is an English Actor.

Game of Thrones s is a high fantasy show set in the game of thrones universe, based on the song of ice and fire universe.

icons include scenes of blood, and while no graphic depictions of his death are shown, if you know, you know.

remember to reblog if you save/use. credit somewhere if you save.

this icon pack are 3$ THROUGH PAYHIP or  paypal or buy me a coffee through ko-fi. it truly helps me a lot.  this special price is up to november 12th.

719 icons. you can also get the base icons for free if you reblog this post and show me evidence of proper credit.

[boilyerheid]

30 for solving or 51 for joplittle for the ask game?

"This must be a joke." Tom sounds distinctly unamused as he squints at the email, pinching the screen on his tablet and blowing it up like he's somehow misread it. About to say something about not working all night as well as all day, Edward leans over his shoulder and then shuts his mouth when he sees the subject line. The paused episode of Bake Off's bread week will have to wait. "And not very good one."

Tom isn't just not in charge of planning the office Christmas do this year - their first proper one since lockdown - but he's been left off the team entirely. The email comes directly from Mr Crozier, and Edward scans the attached message about taking it easy and having some fun for a change, Thomas and opens his mouth again... before once more deciding against it when he sees the vein in Tom's temple ticking.

"I'll put the kettle on," he settles on instead, and beats a hasty retreat for the kitchen as his boyfriend jabs his phone open - muttering darkly about how the fuck Henry Le Vesconte is meant to plan a party without them all getting arrested. The phrase Fitzjames nepotism chases Edward all the way to the kettle with a sigh.

He's going to have to wait for his chance to awkwardly lust over Paul Hollywood's unsettling blue eyes and fatherly shirts, isn't he? Probably for the best.

[catelynakgae]

"do i look like him" but its puru and ripudaman.

[catstarkapologist]

I was talking with my friend today, one of my only friends that has watched game of thrones, and we were talking about just how many dilfs game of thrones has given us. Safe to say, one of the realest conversations I've ever had. We didn't even use names, just kept calling them daddy Stark and daddy Lannister

[maelisdrafts]

Our Secret Garden - intro

An Oberyn x f!oc fiction

Synopsis:

This is the tale of two souls as different as fire and ice, snow and sand—two opposites who seem destined never to coexist. How could they ever find harmony? The odds are stacked against them, their differences insurmountable. Yet, every so often, Fate steps in with a twist, transforming the impossible into reality. After all, even the harshest deserts have, on rare occasions, been graced by snow. And sometimes, against all logic, opposites don’t just attract—they create something extraordinary.

Masterlist

Story settings:

The story starts in 279AC, the year of Elia and Rhaegar's wedding.

The story will mainly be written from Eira's POV, but sometimes, like for the prologue, Oberyn's Pov will make an appearance, maybe even other characters. Who knows?

OC Presentation:

Her name is Eira Stark. She is the second born of Lyarra and Rickard Stark, little sister of Brandon Stark, older sister of Eddard, Lyanna, and Benjen Stark. She was born in 262AC, making her 17 years old at the beginning of the story. She absolutely adores living in Winterfell and fiercely loves her family.

Oberyn's basic facts:

Oberyn was born in 257AC, He is the second born of the house Martell, his older brother being Doran Martell, his little sister being Elia Martell, and finally, his little brother being Quentyn Martell. He loves his family, and he's especially close to Elia. He likes to travel to Essos especially, where he can meet different people and learn new fighting techniques.

[marvelfilth]

Jealous girl (18+)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: secret relationship, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, daddy kink, fingering, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Natasha's in her 30s), praise, pet names, orgasm denial

Summary: your best friend Peter needs help, Natasha's not happy about it at all.

Masterlist

You're standing in the kitchen when it happens.

Peter barges in, his hair a tangled mess, his sweatshirt inside out. You jump away from Natasha's arms, making her spill her protein shake. She shoots him a dirty look, her lips curling up upon registering his disheveled state.

You try to keep the annoyance from showing on your face, but you know you're doing a terrible job when Peter winces apologetically, throwing a bag full of Ben and Jerry's on the counter.

"Code red," he pants.

You straighten immediately, trying to shoo Natasha away with a look, but, instead of leaving, she makes herself comfortable on the counter with an excited glint in her eyes.

You've been friends with Peter ever since he ran you over with his bike in kindergarten, leaving you with a tiny scar on your shin, and a fear of any two-wheeled object. Your friendship grew over the years, and soon enough you were joined at hip, going to the same school and college, tagging along on his patrols, mainly to keep him out of the police radars.

"What's wrong?" You ask, fearing the worst. "Is Venom acting up again? Is it Felicia? I swear to God, if it's her again I'm gonna-"

That's when you decided to make a secret code to help you stay under the radar. In hindsight, you could've thought of something more elaborate than code red, code green and code yellow, but neither of you had enough brain power for that.

"It's MJ!" He cuts you off, shifting on his feet.

You stammer, looking at Natasha for help, but she appears equally puzzled. "I didn't think she had it in her, to be honest," she says, taking a sip of her shake.

"What?" Peter yelps, before jumping up, his hands flying up in an X motion. "No! She's not- No! She's not a villain, or a criminal, or anything like that."

You decide you've had enough of his blabbering, so you take hold of his shoulders and corner him against the counter. "What is it, Peter?"

He takes a deep breath, his cheeks painted crimson, and blurts out, "I really need you to kiss me."

You jump away like you've been burned, shooting an alarmed look to Natasha, but she doesn't register it, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, her knuckles white from the grip she has on her protein shake. You think you can hear it creak.

You turn back to look at your best friend, who's blissfully unaware of your relationship with the most dangerous person in this building, just like everyone else on the team.

Natasha's reluctance to share her love life with her teammates came to bite her in the ass.

"No, wait. That came out wrong." He winces, his eyes darting to Natasha. You can hear him gulp when their eyes meet.

"I think you were pretty clear, Parker," she gritts, jumping off the counter, and comes to stand behind you, hovering over your shoulder.

You send him an encouraging look, taking hold of Natasha's hand behind your back.

"I have a date with MJ-"

"Doesn't explain why you need my- Y/n to kiss you."

You shoot her a warning look. "Let him finish."

Her jaw clenches, but she relents, nodding to the boy to continue.

He looks like he regrets every life choice that led him to this moment.

"Okay, so. I have a date with MJ, and I planned it all out, right? But… um… there's a problem." He clasps his hands, thumbs fiddling. You stay silent in fear of him closing off, and patiently wait for him to continue. "I've never had a girlfriend before, and I've been kissed twice, if you count that one time when Ned fell on top of me and kind of swallowed my face." Natasha snorts, and Peter blushes deep red, his eyes pleading. "I need practice because otherwise I'll just embarrass myself, and she'll hate me forever."

You feel Natasha tense up again, and you're ready to ask her to leave, but she beats you to it, speaking up before you could open your mouth. "I don't think MJ would like you kissing someone else right before your date." Her tone is even, carefully emotionless, but you feel the way her breathing shakes slightly, her grip on your hand tightening.

Peter looks at you, brows set in confusion. "But it's Y/n, she doesn't count as someone!" You huff, indignant. He winces, but goes on. "I could ask Ned, but I don't think he has any experience, so please, please do this for me?"

You turn around to face Natasha. "Can you leave us?"

Her eyes narrow, lips curled. "You're not kissing him." Her hands land on your waist possessively, and you're suddenly turned around. She lowers her chin to your shoulder, lips grazing the shell of your ear as she speaks, "Listen to me very carefully, Parker."

Peter gulps, and takes a step back, his eyes wide and alert.

"You're going to leave and find someone else to help with your little problem. We'll pretend this conversation never took place, and you'll never even think about kissing Y/n again. Am I being clear?" She almost growls, her eyes flashing.

Peter nods dumbly, before hurrying to the door. He stops halfway to shoot you a bewildered look over his shoulder. "Wait… Are you two-"

"Out, Parker," Natasha barks, her face half buried in the crook of your neck. You blush, and wave your friend goodbye, grateful when he disappears behind the door without any further questions.

"Tasha," you whine, turning in her hold. "That wasn't necessary."

She scoffs, and picks you up with practiced ease, settling you on the counter and taking place between your parted thighs. "Yes it was." She sucks at the tender skin just below your collarbone, leaving a stinging bruise. "I can't believe you wanted me to leave." She squeezes your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth is all over your neck - sucking, biting and licking, claiming. You're sure no amount of concealer will be enough to hide the marks.

"Natty," you whimper, "he's my friend, I wanted to talk some sense into him."

She hums, the skin on the underside of your jaw pulled between her teeth. "I did the same thing, no?" Her fingers sneak past the waistband of your shorts, but you're quick to catch her wrist.

"What are you doing?" You look around, panting heavily. "What if someone walks in?"

"Daddy," you moan, pushing her face lower. Her fingers feel so heavenly that you don't even care about anyone walking in - you need her tongue, now. "Please."

You're pushed flat against the counter then, your back on the cold marble, your ass hanging right off the edge. Your fingers disappear in her tresses when she bends down to place a kiss on your clothed cunt.

"Let them see who you belong to," she murmurs, entering your aching core. You bite back a moan, arching in her hold, your pussy clenching around her long digits. Fleeting kisses are placed all over your stomach, her fingers curling inside your heat.

She chuckles, gently biting on your hip bone. "So needy already? I barely started." She adjusts the angle, fastening the pace, but your shorts get in the way, making you huff impatiently.

"Take them off, please," you whimper, clenching around her.

"And when someone walks in, and sees you spread wide open, what then? You think I'd allow anyone to see this pretty pussy?" Her fingers scissor inside you, stretching your walls.

"N-no."

"That's right," she hums, "because it belongs to me." She pulls out to land a short slap on your slit. "Perfect little hole for daddy to play with."

She teases your folds, collecting wetness before pushing her fingers into your mouth. You eagerly suck them in, letting her fuck your mouth, tips of her fingers pushing against your throat. "Such an obedient girl," she murmurs, dark eyes fixated on your lips. You squirm, hips rocking against her abdomen with desperate need of release.

She pulls out her fingers, smearing your slick mixed with spit over your chin.

"I need you," you whine, catching her wrist and leading her hand lower, your panties sticking to your drenched cunt.

She takes the fabric in her fist, and tugs it up, making it press against your pulsing clit. You moan loudly, throwing your head back. She kneads your supple breast with her other hand, and you arch into her, pulling her closer to your aching core with your hips.

"We'll tell everyone tonight," she murmurs against your lips. "But right now you need to be a good girl and take everything daddy gives you."

You nod, feeling your pussy clench around nothing, begging for Natasha's fingers to return. She tugs on your lower lip with her teeth and plunges three fingers inside, hitting a spongy spot deep in your heat. You arch off the counter, pressing against her front, your legs clenched hard around her hips. She grunts lowly, setting a slow pace, making sure to explore your pussy with each thrust, collecting your wetness when she pulls out only to push it back inside. You bury your face in her shoulder, your fingers disappear in her hair, tugging at the tresses.

"Good?" She whispers against your ear, spreading her fingers inside, her thumb firm on your clit.

You gasp, and bite down on the muscle of her shoulder, nodding with your eyes clenched shut. "S-so good, daddy."

She hums, her full lips pulling in a smirk, and starts circling your pulsing nub. You throw your head back, moaning loudly, and she takes the opportunity to paint your neck purple, sucking on the tender skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"M'gonna… I'm gonna come," you whimper when she hits your sweet spot, making your toes curl.

"Did I say you could, babygirl?" She chuckles into your neck, making sure to hit the spot with each thrust. You shake your head, closing your eyes and furrowing your brows in effort to stop your approaching orgasm, your body as tense as a drawn bowstring. "That's right, baby," she cooes, kissing the corner of your mouth, "you're not allowed to."

Your heart drops to your stomach, torn between wanting to be Natasha's good girl and giving in to the pleasure. “Please, please let me…” you whine, buckling against her hand.

She pulls away, her eyes level with yours, and you want to sob from how good she feels inside you, your pussy clenching around her slender fingers.

“You’ll hold it for me,” she says, “and I'll make up for it later tonight.” You almost huff in frustration, knowing that you'll have to walk around the Compound painfully wet for the rest of the day.

She grabs your jaw, seemingly reading your thoughts. “And don't even think about touching yourself.”

She pulls away abruptly and tugs you off the counter before fixing your shorts and stepping away. You blink rapidly, disoriented by the sudden change, your pussy aching in the sweetest way.

Sam enters the kitchen a second later.

You subtly wipe your mouth clean, and even out your breathing while he rummages the upper shelves. Natasha's eyes glint with mischief as she slowly wipes her fingers with a paper towel.

"You up for a training session?" She asks Sam, and you shoot her a furious look. Your glare does nothing to the redhead, as she continues watching you silently, a teasing smirk pulling at her mouth.

Sam scoffs, looking between you two. "Like you weren't about to get nasty two seconds ago."

Natasha chuckles, her eyes flashing. "About to? You need to work on your observation skills, Wilson."

Sam stills, his eyes darting between you two, and you look away, knowing that nothing could hide your red cheeks and bruised lips.

He chokes on his water the moment he sees your neck. "Damn, Romanoff," he gasps, coughing. "Right here?! This is a sacred place! I cook here!"

Natasha hums, shrugging carelessly. "I eat here," she retorts, and you can tell by the crinkles near her eyes she's about to say something that's gonna make you want to bury yourself. "Actually, I was about to devour something really delic-"

"Natasha!" You shriek, tugging her away from the kitchen, but not before quietly apologizing to Sam.

She laughs quietly, following you to the bedroom. "I think we're banned from the kitchen now."

She thinks. You scoff, shaking your head. Trust Natasha to go from a full secrecy mode to telling every living soul about your sex life.

[minimarvelh]

Peter: omg how should I tell Tony that I got a tattoo? He will kill me.

Ned: I got that!! Go to my house, play some video games, I will deal with that.

*30 minutes later*

Ned: Mr. Stark, I need to tell you something..

Tony, working on his project: what’s that, kid? And where is Peter?

Ned: the thing is..Peter is an addict.

Tony, dropping everything to the ground: -what?

Ned: yeah, I tried to stop him but he wouldn’t listen to me. And I can’t even imagine how MJ will deal with that…her baby daddy is an addict…

Tony: w-what?

Ned: oh, Peter didn’t tell you? Yes, she’s pregnant. Anyway, how are you?

Tony:

Ned:

Tony:

Ned: and Peter got a tattoo. Are you mad?

*1 hour later*

Peter, rushing into Medbay: dad, are you okay?

Tony, in Medbay: I think I’m dying..please, my last wish, stop doing drugs, kiddo.

Ned: fuck, I think I forgot to tell him that was a lie…

[swordsandarms]

@anakin-vaders

See, this is what I'm talking about. Why is "brooding" a "Stark gene" even? Because of (30s) Ned? Pre-trauma Arya was a cheerful, extroverted, outgoing child who made friends with everyone and loved to explore the world. Lyanna was supposedly like her. Brandon was supposedly like Lyanna. Even Ned was once just a mere shy guy who then went through a bunch of trauma.

"Brooding" is ascertained as a "Stark trait" because 30s Ned is like that after youth trauma, and Jon is "just like him" because of childhood trauma or, you know, if genetics would be involved there, he does have a natural father who dealt with depression for a big chunk of his life and all.

I think a big part of equalling "Stark looks" with plainness or even straight up ugliness is because THE in-house remaining Stark for the sake of reference is Ned, and Ned is notably plain. But the thing about that is he seems to have been an outlier at that. He and his siblings all had the "Stark looks", coming from a marriage of two Stark cousins.

Truth be told, Ned is rather ascertained by Catelyn as merely "shortER and plainER" than Brandon, but Brandon was the desirable fuckboi of the North back in the day. Lyanna, likewise, isn't only described as pretty only by Northern relatives, but also by a Southern marriage pretender with notable wandering eyes for anything pretty, and even an indifferent Lannister just putting it out there as some off-handed, irrelevant fact. No one cares enough for Benjen to note on his looks because he is an irrelevant figure to the outer world, gone to the NW since near childhood, so statistically Ned remains an outlier as a "plainER" (again, not even ugliness which the author is never shy to outright point out in a character) guy among the Stark family, while simultaneously being the only reper for "Stark looks" among anyone alive.

It would make sense that even not necessarily ill meaning fans would be blindsided by not looking at the full picture. But the fact is "Stark looks" aren't inherently unattractive or even merely plain or indifferent, and that Jon is of course logistically likened to Ned from the outside by default (as "father" and only Stark reference around for most people), but he himself is Lyanna's son (with a notably handsome man), and a young Lyanna is mistaken for Arya in a vision memory, not merely assured by an indulging father.

But, most importantly, at the end of the day, AGAIN, "looking like a Stark" is statistically/historically associated with attractiveness, particularly as ascertained by the other sex.