#gender neutral f/o

[writingloveandaffection]

Imagine your f/o's thoughts jumping to you first when they want to do something with someone. It can be something as mundane as a grocery store trip. They want you there because your company makes them happy. It makes boring tasks just a little more bearable, because if you're there they can make you laugh, just as you make them. If it's somewhere fun or special, of course they'd want you there. What better way is there to have a good time than spending it with someone you care about? Maybe it's just watching that new show. They were going to watch it anyway, but maybe you might want to see it too. Or maybe you've already started it or even seen the whole thing. Still, they want you there. Because they love you and want to spend time together. Just being in each other's presence is enough. You dont even have to be doing something together. They just want to be near you. And they know they can go to you just as you could easily go to them.

[mothlover69-afterdark]

Imagine your f/o fucking you, when they suddenly start to transform into a more monstrous form. Imagine feeling whatever they've pushed inside of you (whether it be cock, tongue, fingers, or whatever else you desire in your holes) beginning to change shape and size. Imagine yourself split open and something so much bigger than you ever thought could fit inside you. Imagine your f/o, now huge and monstrous, beginning to give fully into their instincts. They become more unhinged and feral as they pound into you, growling, their hot breath against your skin. If theyve got claws, they're digging them into your skin. All they want to do is grab you and fuck you like their life depends on it and maybe even empty themselves inside of you.

[comfort-character-central]

The scene from Spongebob Squarepants where Mr Krabs goes "Yes, hello, I was wondering if you could play that song again." but it's just me replaying specific voice lines of my f/o by myself because the way they were spoken made me giggle

[killemwithkawaii]

Dear depressed/ executive dysfunction-having/ etc. selfshipper,

Your f/o wants you to shower. 

No, not because they think you're gross or smelly, but because they know you'll feel at least a little bit better once you're clean. 

They won't judge you if its been longer than you'd like to admit since you last bathed.

They won't show revulsion when they see how unkempt your nails or hair or skin has become as a result of inadvertent neglect. 

They won't shame you or think less of you for having difficulty with doing what 'should' be a basic, simple act of self-care. Your [f/o] understands that sometimes, 'easy' things can become difficult, for one or many reasons. They love you, and all they want is for you to be comfortable and healthy. A good shower will help you with both those things. 

If [f/o]s gentle encourgement isn't enough to get you to tackle the task on your own, they're glad to help as much as you need them to- they'll turn on the water to your preferred temperature, help you undress, hold your hand to keep you steady when you step over the lip of the tub, wash your hair for you, gently scrub down wherever you're comfortable with them touching, make sure all the soap is rinsed off, gently dry you off with a fresh, soft towel, and help you get dressed in clean, sensory-friendly clothes....

"... there we go, [y/n].... it was hard at first, but it wasn't so bad once you got in, right? ... Good, I'm happy to hear that... You look like you're feeling better already..." 🚿💕

[sweettoothselfships]

f/os with hairy arms hairy chests hairy legs etc

[lavandula-ipsum]

The rain will hide us

gif by @tatooineknights

Summary: Stranded on an unkown planet, you've fallen sick. Thankfully, Luke is there with you. However, you might not be the only one in need of care.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Tags: Luke Skywalker x GN!Reader, force sensitive reader, comfort, fluff, mentions of injuries, one-shot. Angst somehow got in.

The paleness of the morning starts to filtrate through the tent, drawing the dark little spots left by quiet raindrops. Their clatter serves as a gentle wake up call while, outside, an unexplored jungle sleeps.

“How are you feeling?” Before you can even shift in your sleeping bag, Luke has already turned his attention to you, lying a kind hand on your shoulder. For a second, you miss the times when you could have just watched him for a couple of minutes before choosing to signal that you’re awake.

Truth is you feel like shit. A trash compactor could have chewed and spit you out while you were unconscious for all you know. At the effort of answering his question, a raspy whine leaves your sore throat. “Better.”

He’s sitting next to you, not very convinced. There’s urgency tingling the tips of his fingers, you can feel it through the Force. “Is it okay if I check?”

An almost imperceptible shivery note haunts his voice. In the dark circles under his eyes you can sense a long and rough night. You nod. Even though you can feel the last remnants of sickness haven't completely faded from your exhausted body, the back of his hand is warm against your burning cheek and forehead. With an alleviated sigh, Luke finally lets his hand slide down your arm.

“You still have a fever, but it isn’t as high anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Do you remember the crash?”

“A little. I remember the battle, the evacuation when the ship went down.” The mission you embarked on seems to have failed spectacularly. You try to sweep away the thoughts of your fallen comrades, at least till you get back and get to know for sure how many of them are actually gone. “We got into the same escape pod and… this atmosphere messed with the navigation systems, I guess.” You grumble, rubbing the side of your head. “Why don’t I remember much after that?”

“You were trapped in the wreckage for a few minutes. I couldn’t take you out earlier. (Y/N), I’m so sorry. You got some cuts and superficial burns. Perhaps a broken rib.” Oh, so that’s what the bandages are for. And probably why you’ve been stripped down to your standard issue underwear. Suddenly, Luke avoids your gaze and an uncomfortable ripple flutters through the Force, but you’re too distracted frowning at the new scratch across his cheek.

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. But you… You were feverish the whole night.” He continues, bringing the med kit closer to show you a box of painkillers, an empty stim canister, an open tube of pomade, anxious to let you know everything he gave you while you were unconscious.

“It’s ok.” You set your hand over his to stop his nervous tinkering through the med kit. “I trust you, Luke. How many times have we done this? Tell me, what happened next?”

He licks his lips, then looks down at his hands. “You became really sick.”

“I’m sorry. I must have scared you. This is all my fault.” You groan before he can start giving you a thousand reasons why it isn’t. “It really is. I knew I was already sick before the mission. It was just a cold two days ago, but I guess it made me more vulnerable to whatever I caught here.”

Luke shifts closer to you, suddenly alarmed. “Why did you come to this mission then? Why didn’t you say anything?”

You remember those agonizing moments when he didn’t show up at the rendezvous point after the battle of Hoth, gone to Force knows where, while you were left alone wondering if he’d been killed. Turns out he’d just left on his own. It’s not as if he owed you any explanation, you were merely friends. He's fated to go out there and do things so far greater than anything having to do with you. So you tried to slap yourself out of this silly anxiety. After all, the others were gone with the Falcon too, and you had to resign yourself to the faith that they'd be alright. 

And then Luke came back, his body battered and his spirit broken worse than you’d ever seen before or since.

Shyly, you slide your fingers out of your cover. He quickly holds them in between his palms. You’re sure the sky outside the tent would pale in comparison with the intensity of his tired gaze right now, glassy and blue. And yet, all you manage to conjure in response is a lie.

“I wanted to feel useful. The Rebellion needs all the hands it can get.” 

If he realizes, he doesn’t say anything. He just leans in to warm your cold hand with his breath. Luke might not be a full Jedi just yet, but he can probably sense how tired you are of this game of claiming guilt for everything, of just rambling around the edges of what neither of you feel brave enough to say. He just knows you that inescapably well.

For now, the tent has become quiet, so quiet you can even hear him swallow. After a second of allowing yourself to stare at the muscles of his neck tense up and relax with the motion, you look down and sink your flaming face into the sleeping bag.

Against his advice, you sit up. The chill bites your exposed skin, setting a feverish tremor within your chest. However, you don’t let him make you settle back into the bedding.

“Can I say something without it turning into another exchange of apologies?” you ask. Noticing your sudden eagerness, he nods. However, his hands remain close, as if you were about to collapse. “Thank you for saving my life. Truly.”

He seems about to reply with some excuse, probably minimizing himself once again, but you raise a warning finger along with a threatening expression. It makes him laugh, brighter than he’s laughed in months. It lasts too little for your taste, but at least the smile lingers on his face.

“Ok, you win this one. Now, that pomade needs to be reapplied.”

After taking a panicked second to realize what he’s asking, you turn slightly so he can get better access to the burn, which covers the back of your shoulder and part of your right arm. Luke scooches closer till you’re basically sitting between his legs. You wonder if he notices his warmth setting you aflame, but he seems too busy readying the ointment to even look at you, his eyes half hidden under soft locks of weathered gold. However, a loaded silence falls in the tent, during which you feel the urge to cover your front with the sleeping bag. 

“It’s gonna feel a little cold,” he warns before touching you, his voice barely audible.

You had already made up your mind to behave and not show any sign of discomfort, but you need to turn away to hide your face. Honestly, you’re not sure if it’s the painkillers or the surreal ambience around you, but you swear you’ve never been treated by gentler hands. As they work to spread the medicine, you hold yourself together barely enough to not just let go and plop yourself on his lap. You feel beyond beaten, and over your head a thick cloud keeps your judgment in a state of relaxed lethargy. Truth is his welcoming stance, along with the way his fingers caress your tender skin as he softly talks you through the process, isn’t helping your already lazy resolve.  

“I’m so glad, it doesn’t seem like it got infected. I think there’s a chance it won’t leave a scar once we can get you proper treatment back in the fleet.”

You hum half heartedly in response, doing your best to join in the effort to evade the silence instead of entertaining the thought that you don’t actually want to go back. Because he wouldn’t be with you then. Luke has been avoiding the fleet since Bespin, and you've made up your mind to follow him for as long as he wants you around.

“Have you been awake the whole night? Meditating?”

“Not meditating. Standing guard.”

When he finishes up your new bandages, you hear the rustling of knots coming undone and, right after, you’re covered with Luke’s outer robe. Apparently, your top had to be cut off your body when he first tended to your wounds. As he helps drape the garment around your shoulders and slide your arms into the sleeves careful to not graze your wounds, the warmth it still bears surrounds you. Ah, it smells like him too. 

Luke seems ready to offer an excuse to quiet your concerns over his lack of sleep, but it fizzles out before your demanding frown. A pained flare crosses behind his eyes as his Force signature heats up around you. He doesn’t mean to leave you out of his thoughts, he truly doesn’t. It’s just that lately they’ve been a mess not even he has felt ready to untangle. And, if he’s not ready to talk, you won’t push him. However, this silence is a little needle to your heart, and the jab reaches him when it becomes too painful for you to hide.

“I tried to meditate until I had to give up. I couldn’t find the peace for it. You were trembling and twisting in your sleep, burning with fever… mumbling things.”

“Were they embarrassing?” you joke, trying to lift the mood a little. However, instead of following you down that path, you feel a little tug. He’s lightly pulling at the edge of your sleeve, well, his.

“Don’t leave me. Please, stay.”

The pressure around your wrist makes it sound like an apology. Why? For letting you fall sick? For leaving you behind and going to Dagobah on his own? You’re getting tired of riddles, and you’re already trembling from the effort of sitting up straight. Your hand lands on his shoulder, a gesture that seems to finally break him out of his spiraling thoughts and look at you.

“And you did. You stayed.”

An exhalation later, you’re buried in his chest. It’s hard to tell who initiated the hug when you’re enthralled by how melting into each other makes everything else melt away. Luke’s hands travel down your hair, and you wonder when taking in this soothing became as easy as breathing. Well, not exactly. There needs to be a spell, a certain quietness to the air like the one flooding the tent right now. Melancholy is usually the trigger, the signature to the wordless contract between the two of you that grants you permission to indulge in this kind of comfort. Later you’d usually dream awake about it, lost in the memory of what feels forbidden during the daylight. It aches a little that at least one of you needs to be in some kind of pain to feel allowed this kind of intimacy. 

A sigh brushes against your ear as Luke barely dares to talk in a whisper. “What if I can’t do this?” 

“Don’t worry, the Rebellion knows we’re here, we’ll be out of here in no time…”

“Not that. It’s about-” The words get lost as they’re spilled from his lips. Luke lets out a shaky breath before sinking deeper into your hair. “Everything.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“You always do.” 

“And listen, I truly believe there’s a special path ahead of you. A bright one. However, no matter what happens, even if things go wrong, I’ll be here. I mean- we all will. We’ll love you all the same.”

You nuzzle up closer against him, prompting a pleased sigh out of him. 

“I’ve been leaning on you too much.”

You chuckle, “how so? You just saved me in, like, five different ways just during the last twelve hours.”

“What you do is way more difficult.”

A hand cradles your head close to his chest, while his other arm surrounds you. And, as the silence settles once again, you finally feel him relax around you as your hands travel up his back. Through his thin inner tunic, the heartbeat pressed against your cheek allows itself to slow down a little. 

“You take a nap now. I’ll keep watch.”

“You’re hurt,” he complains. “And sick.”

“I’ll have a blaster at hand and wake you up as soon as I hear anything outside, I swear.” You hush him before he can complain. “Do I need you to remind you of your instruction, commander? If you don’t rest you’ll compromise the mission.”

“And what mission is that?”

“Get back to base, safe and sound. And stick together until then.”

Luke brushes your cheek with his thumb, as if to check again if your fever has gone down enough to leave the task to you. “Yeah, I might be able to do that.”

So you get back in the sleeping bag so as to not get cold, and he lays down over it next to you. He does so a bit skittish at first, so you interlock his fingers with yours and guide him down to the most comfortable spot, next to you. Soon, exhaustion defeats any remaining fear and Luke feels brave enough to wrap an arm around you. Soon, sleep has taken him.With your heart coming to a halt, you finally dare to take in his features. Even though a shadow of worry still darkens his brow, his features look softer than you’ve seen lately. It takes you back to those early days in the Rebellion when you weren’t nearly as close, but talking seemed easier. So you stay awake, treasuring every deep breath and the faint rainfall in the background, until the distant buzz of the Millennium Falcon fades the spell away.

link to the source gifset

[lieutenantselnia]

[my-gf-is-kazuichi-soda]

Imagine your feline or feline-adjacent f/o singing this to you

[veryvaughnny]

Imagine being woken up by a bunch of tiny kisses all over your face. On your cheeks, chin, nose, forehead, etc. Just very gentle kisses. And once you open your eyes, you hear a soft "good morning, my love."

[katsukichu]

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐬 𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐱 𝐠𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Reverse Comfort - You notice your fav looking a little sad on NYE. Sorry this is so late I haven't wrote in like forever sorry if this is bad😭 [SFW]

New Year's Eve normally consists of drinking and partying the whole night - forgetting about all of the worries of the past year while welcoming the new one.It's a time for celebration and joy, as you welcome a fresh start and look forward to a new beginning but it can also be bittersweet as you reflect on the past year - it's like a rollercoaster of happiness and nostalgia all in one night.

The clock ticked away the final moments of the year as the city outside buzzed with celebration. In the warmth of your shared apartment, the soft glow of fairy lights adorned the room, creating a comforting vibe while scented candles filled the air. You and your partner sat on the couch, staring at the television broadcasting the grand New Year's Eve festivities.

The comforting atmosphere couldn't dispel the heavy cloud hanging over your partner as the countdown drew near, the weight of unmet expectations pressed upon them - they couldn't help but reflect on the goals they set at the beginning of the year, now feeling like distant dreams.

Feeling the tension in the room, you gently reached for their hand, fingers intertwining as you exchanged a knowing look -no words were needed - the connection spoke volumes and with a comforting squeeze, you silently reassured them that they were not alone.

As the countdown began, the room filled with the distant echoes of cheers from the outside world. Instead of focusing on the passing seconds, you turned your attention to your partner.

"You know, achievements are not always measured in grand milestones. Sometimes, it's the small victories, that define a year. Life is unpredictable and can get in the way of us achieving our dreams -what matters is that you gave your best and, no matter what, I'm here for you, I’m proud of you and I’ll always be your number one supporter."

A gentle smile tugged at the corners of their lips, gratitude shining through their eyes.

3…2…1

As the clock struck midnight, the outside world erupted in cheers and fireworks while the two of you shared a tender kiss, welcoming the new year with a quiet resolve to face whatever challenges lay ahead, hand in hand. Once it hits the end of the countdown, you both open your eyes and cheer together, excited and anxious to see what the new year has waiting for you two.

You two glance out the windows to see the whole road and sky lit up with fireworks,people are cheering and shouting out in celebration.

Your partner gazes outside with you, taking in this moment together and savouring this wonderful sight, this once in a lifetime beautiful event they get to spend with you - which makes them think endings aren't always that bad - every end is a new beginning.

Taglist (edited on 26/01)

@buzzyboi79 @0lissa0 @nishikina @bakugosgorl @bakugosbratx @minninugget @aomi04 @dabis0bitch @bakubabeyy @keisurou @hannas16 @namjoonswifeyy @neko-loogi @stormcloudsbrewing @nymphoheretic @gently-folded-paper-cranes @shoutascoffeepot @slutfor-fictionalmen @dreamcastgirl99 @hotgreenteea

[unicornletters]

self-hate comfort -- you x your comfort character

some f/o/comfort character imagine content -- tw for self-hate, feeling ugly, feeling unlovable, potentially dysphoria (comfort is given)

Imagine your [f/o, favorite character, comfort character, etc] hears the way you talk to yourself when you look in the mirror. 

“Why am I so ugly? No one’s ever going to love me.”

You know. That kind of thing. The kind of thing you think during hormonal fluctuations and nicotine withdrawal and after long nights with no sleep. 

“Fuck you,” you say to the mirror for good measure. “God. Just fuck you.”

Your [f/o, favorite character, comfort character, etc] has tried to give you your privacy, but can’t do that anymore without letting you talk badly about yourself. They’re not about to do that.

“Hey,” they say. “Rough day?”

You glare at them.

“Let me hate myself in peace, thanks,” you say, trying to slide past them in the hallway.

They grab you by the shoulders and it’s so gentle, because of course it is, but you’re still pissed about it. You huff.

“Don’t talk to yourself like that, please,” they say. “I know it’s hard, and I know you’re tired, and I know you hate yourself, but you don’t have to reinforce it.”

You roll your eyes.

“You don’t,” they insist. “You’re telling yourself all this shit so often that you’re going to believe it, deep down.”

“I already believe it deep down,” you say, because, well, obviously.

“Yeah,” they say, “but it’s going to get worse if you let it.”

“Fuck off,” you say, and stomp into your bedroom.

They follow, but they won’t come in unless you ask them to. Eventually, you ask them to. They get in bed next to you and cradle your head against their chest, not touching the parts of your body that you can’t bear to have touched right now (or the parts of your body you can never bear to have touched). 

“You’re not always going to feel like this,” they say. “I can promise you that.”

You press your face against their chest and blink hard. Maybe you believe them.

[mothlover69-afterdark]

Self care is imagining the moans and other noises your f/o would make while you fuck 🥰

[imagine-your-love-story]

Imagine your grumpy f/o sitting there, scowling at everyone who dares to make eye contact with them. They’re intimidating and frightening and everyone gives them a wide berth.

Then you come bouncing in, all sunshine and rainbows.

Your f/o’s lips twitch into - gasp - a smile! They open their arm to you and you gleefully burrow into their side with a pleased little giggle.

Your f/o brushes a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

And then they go right back to glaring at everyone else. Meanwhile, you’re cuddled under their arm, looking snug as a bug in a rug.

[mane--attraction]

"Enjoying yourself, my little sex kitten?"

You pull his finger from your mouth, frowning while insecurity bubbles. "‘M not a 'sex kitten.' You gotta have sex appeal to be a sex kitten…"

He raises an eyebrow. "And?"

You blink, glancing down as you think about it. "...I guess I have some sort of sex appeal if you're…having sex...with me…" Your face warms in embarrassment as something occurs to you. "And you were probably being more literal, anyway, weren't you—"

He chuckles. "Yes, kitten." He kisses your forehead. “Yes I was."

[selfshipseaside]

☆ Reminder that self-shippers with crooked teeth are amazing! Your f/o adores your smile, even if you try to hide it, trust that they want to see it. Your teeth are nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about whatsoever, in fact, they make you more charming and it gives you character! Your f/o doesn't want you to get lost in the sea of believing anyone who tells you otherwise. However you got to have your crooked teeth, or how misaligned they are, that doesn't matter to them, they will never judge you or treat you differently. Your smile brings them joy above all else, your teeth only make it all the more special, never doubt that folks!

[catras-witchy-girlfriend]

Imagine your villain f/o reminding you that you can talk to them:

-That when you're with them, you're allowed- no wanted-to be imperfect.

-That you are safe to be loud, and odd, and sad, and angry, and happy! With them, you're allowed to be.

-They don't expect you to be a ray of sunshine every moment of every day. They understand that some days will be better than others, and they want nothing more than to be by your side when the storm hits.

-You sit on the floor with your hair a mess, your face stained by tears, your knees pulled to your chest, and your body trembling.

-Your F/o stands above you as they try to process everything. In their head they seethe, who would dare make their y/n feel like this?

-But from outside they take a deep breath-

-and they fall on their knees beside you.

-"Y/n?" They whisper to you softly and they place their hand on your knee. "Can you look at me, my darling?"

-They gently pull your face to theirs by your chin and then move their hand up to stoke your cheek as they try to wipe away your tears.

-"What happened, my dear? Please tell me."

-Maybe you're not ready, and that's okay too.

-Maybe all you can do is shake your head and crawl into their arms.

-They will hold you, and they will hold you tight. They would place the softest kisses upon your head as they whisper words of love and comfort into your ears.

-But if you are ready, they hold you close as they listen to you intently.

-They rub their hands up and down your arms, and let you lean on their chest.

-Afterwards, perhaps false guilt begins to swell in your mind.

-You hide your face from them to say, "I'm sorry, this-this isn't your problem, I-I hope I didn't--ruin--interupt anything-"

-"Stop it, Y/n." They tell you sternly. "First of all, we're a couple, we're companions, partners, that means your problems are my problems, understand?"

-"F-F/o..."

-"Secondly," their voice changes to something soft as they press your foreheads together and place a soft kiss on your lips, "How many times have you been there for me in my darkest moments? How many times have you stuck by me through meltdowns, rages, and panic attacks?"

-Your face flushes, deep red spreading across your face, "A few..."

-They chuckle and wink at you with a smirk, "A bit more than 'a few,' I'd say."

-You smile as they look at you with the most loving gaze imaginable, cup your face in their hands, and kiss the top of your head, "So please, never think that you need to hide yourself from me. I love you, and I'll always be there for you, just as you've been there for me, my dear."