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+ All comments except fills should be posted anonymously.
+ All prompts should focus on TFA characters. You can't post OT or PT-only prompts.
+ One prompt per comment please.
+ You can request both kink and non-kink content
+ Crossovers, characters from the other media are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 movie in some way.
+ All prompt comments should begin with a pairing tag (eg Rey/Finn) or Gen for no pairing.
+ Use 'Any' when prompting for any pairing at all (eg Kylo/Any or Any/Any)
+ Anyone, everyone, no one? Use "Other." (e.g. Poe/Other)
+ Warn for common triggers, please
+ NO PROMPTS FEATURING CHARACTERS UNDER 18 IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS.
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+ prompts should not exceed ~250 words.
+ also, while this is not really a rule I can enforce, please try to limit yourselves to fewer than 5 prompts per page.
+ reposting prompts is currently not allowed.
+ no prompts based on real life tragic events. e.g: 9/11 au, concentration camp au, etc
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Jon Hux loathes pool parties, mainly because he loathes swimming or getting undressed in front of strangers. It doesn’t matter because he’s already slightly drunk on that overly sweet claret today’s hostess brought him. The sun shines over the empty swimming pool, makes the calm water glisten. It’s pretty.

He almost doesn’t mind making that idle chatter with one of Father’s old friends, Mrs Dove, about his college experience and what he intends to do with that degree in engineering once it’s all over. There are highways to stretch over the country, cars to put on the market, planes to fly over the world and bombs to use against Communists. Anyone with a decent amount of intelligence, degree or not, can see that this second half of the century belongs to men like the Huxes.

But Jon doesn’t care about these things just now. The weather has this warm and oppressive quality to it, or maybe it’s the drink. He eases loose his tie, unbuttons only the very top of his shirt. It’s against regulation when it comes to being in Father’s presence, but so would having a heat stroke out of foolishness. His eyes, however, aren’t on Father, who’s on the other side of the courtyard chatting away in that unchanging dignified manner that comes from serving during two World Wars. He’s observing the lone figure crossing the road, and heading towards the end of the street.

It’s a peculiar sight in this very white, very respectable neighbourhood, a tall stranger with a leather jacket and unruly dark hair. His interlocutor seems to notice, smiles.

“I guess you didn’t know about the new arrivals in the neighbourhood while you were away in college. Mr. Hux has never been once for that kind of gossip,” she says.

Jon takes another sip of claret, a hand in the pocket of his trousers. The lone figure has disappeared into the house at the far end of the street. He rises an eyebrow.

“Indeed. The Lexingtons have a guest?”
“No, they moved away. Couldn’t afford the place anymore. They filled with bankruptcy and left right under everyone’s nose, can you believe it?”

Jon can. He’d noticed some unrest in Mrs Lexington’s manner the last time he’d seen her, last year, but hadn’t said anything about it. He shrugs.

“Maybe.”
“Anyway, this new family moved in right after. Well, family…”

She has this self-serving smile to her face, and Jon’s interest is piqued by it, no matter how vulgar he knows it is to feast upon that kind of things.

“Leia Organa is a divorcee.” The word almost seems to burn her tongue. “Or at least that’s what she claims. Probably managed to buy that house by bribing whoever the father of that kid might be.”

She seems to realise how talking like this might make her look, and so she brushes it aside elegantly, proposing him to try out the hors-d’oeuvres Mrs Wilbur brought. Jon smiles elegantly, nods, even though he feels like something is wrong with his stomach.

Jon’s plan is to spend most of the summer reading novels, drinking with optional company and avoid speaking to Father, which isn’t difficult in itself given how little Hux Sr. seems to enjoy his company anyway. He does exactly that for the first three weeks he spends home,spread over one of garden chairs with some sort of mixed drink from morning to early afternoon, after which he drags himself out of stupor with a stiff run until the evening’s silent meal in the family's spartiate dining room. Jon likes routines, or at least enjoys the sense of control they give him.

Patterns start to emerge from his lazy observation of his surroundings that accompanies the almost clockwork precision of his new schedule. He realises Mrs Dove, who lives right next to them, receives the same electrician in a blue pickup truck every Thursday morning after her husband has left for work. On the other side of the side of the street, the young couple who’s been living there for a few years already seems to fight in the living room mostly on weekend nights, while Jon gets ready for his run in the evening.

The main event of his new routine is when, around five-thirty, he passes the Organa house during his daily run. It’s a charming house, albeit a smaller one that those situated upper on the street, with the vines and the brick facade. It’s a shame the Lexingtons had to go, but the cloud of scandal that seemed to shroud the new occupants in Mrs Dove’s speech had sparked Jon’s interest.

What actually causes his mild obsession with them, however, is the sight of the same dark haired stranger changing, with a regularity that only matched Jon Hux’s own rigid daily occupations, in front of an open window on the second floor only visible through the towering tree branches obscuring but not completely hiding it. It’s the pale skin, and the heavy muscles rippling underneath, the scars over the boy’s back he’s only ever caught a glimpse of and the cock resting flaccidly in the fur between his legs that arouse him every time. He masturbates furiously every night to the thought of possessing him, one way or another.

Jon isn't nearly stupid enough not to know what this means about him. He’d be lying to himself if he’d say he hadn't enjoyed the touch of other men in the past year or so. College, in a lot of ways, has made him a new person and made him realise how different he is from his peers. He knows he isn’t one of these fags big cities like New York seemed full of, screaming and gesticulating with womanly glee, and he has every intention to marry and have children as it is expected of him somewhere in the future. He also knows he isn't exactly like most of his classmates either, at least the ones who haven't drunkenly made out with him in the relative secrecy of elite institutions such as MIT.

Ben Solo, he comes to learn from careful, yet stealthy investigation at the various parties and dinners the Huxes are invited to, has a rocky relationship with his mother, a love of greased hair and a destruction of property. Housewives gossiping aren't much help when trying to find the truth about, but Jon enjoys the rumors nonetheless. It’s a harmless little obsession, he tells himself, and he’ll be back to his studies and proper worries soon enough.

One night, however, as he’s jogging on the corner of the Organa house on his way home, he catches the sight of something else behind the tree branches as he purposefully slows down to catch a better look at the boy. He’s naked alright, sitting on the floor with his legs folded, but he’s looking out the window as if waiting for something. Then it happens. Their gazes catch one another, and the boy smirks

He knows.

Jon Hux enjoys routines, the sense of control they give him, but he changes his jogging itinerary from that day on. His evening masturbation sessions are replaced by a stiff drink and, if he’s to be honest, completely ineffective study. Days go by more quietly now, but he still feels that lust in the pit of his stomach sometimes, a hunger for flesh that won’t go.

Elaine Phasma is an old acquaintance, and she’s pretty enough for a towering piece of a woman, thick blond hair and luscious curls. Jon remembers taking her out a few times to dance a few times back in high school, but he’s still surprised to receive her call. She has the same commanding tone, even though she forces her speech to be softer, and he surprises himself to be smiling as she asks him if Father would accept to come and visit the Phasmas sometimes in the future. He knows this isn’t why she’s calling, and he lets her have what she really wants.

“It’s been a long time since we last saw each other, Elaine. How about I take you out for the movies let’s say… Saturday night?”

There’s a brief moment of silence on the line, and Jon briefly worries he’s said the wrong thing. It isn’t the case.

“Sure, Jon, although I really wouldn’t want to impose,” she pretends, knowing the game.
“Not at all. I’ve missed this place quite a bit, and you, if I might permit myself to say so. We do have some catching up to do, I feel.”

He takes her out for a Gregory Peck flick at some passion pit in the neighbouring town, and they make out in his car before heading home. They don’t have sex, because the both of them aren’t stupid enough risk a pregnancy, but Elaine agrees to suck him off on the car seat in a way that feels both agreeable and somewhat unsatisfying. Jon still comes in her mouth, and is surprised to see her swallow his load without even flinching.

There’s something missing to all of this, although he can’t really pinpoint what, and Elaine catches it even though she doesn’t say anything about it. They talk about the movie as Jon drives her home. It’s something in her eyes as she kisses him goodnight on the cheek before leaving the car that sets him off, but he doesn’t try to ask her anything about it. Elaine is good for him, he knows this to be certain, and she’s far more intelligent than she likes to let people know.

Their liaison lasts for the rest of the summer, and Jon wonders very briefly sometimes if he shouldn’t ask Elaine to marry him when he’ll graduate and be settled down in life. The Phasmas are a proper match, and Mr Phasma has some political contact that always could come in handy if Jon was to get himself a government job somewhere in the future. If there’s something off, Elaine never outright says it and Jon won’t either.

They do have sex, at some point, with a prophylactic a smart girl like Elaine managed to sneak into her purse, and it’s an interesting experience for Jon. He guesses she isn’t a virgin, from the way she seems to know her own body, and that fact makes him enjoy possessing her even more. Still, there’s a fleshiness to her body he’s not sure he desires, and he can’t help but to remember another body, another face as he climaxes.

On his very last day before leaving town and heading back to MIT, as he’s getting back home after a dinner date at the Phasmas, he passes the Organa house without really meaning to. This time, the boy with the dark hair isn’t in his room, looking out for him. He’s sitting on the front lawn in blue jeans. a leather coat, and a cigarette between his fingers. He waves at Jon as the car approaches with a wink.

Jon Hux doesn’t know why he stops as the figure stands up and walks towards the street, and he doesn’t know why he opens the door when the boy knocks on the car window next to the passenger seat. Ben Solo gets in with a devious grin, and Jon starts the engine again, heading for the outskirts of the suburbs now.

“I haven’t seen you in awhile. I thought you would have enjoyed the show,” the stranger says.

His voice has all the low, mellow notes Elaine’s voice lacks. It hits Jon like a bullet, but he still manages to smile pleasantly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you do, just like you have no idea why we’re here right now. You think I haven’t got wind of whatever you’re doing with that Phasma girl? It’s cruel, Mr Hux, it really is.”

Jon’s grip on the wheel tightens. They’re already decently removed from civilization now, in the lower districts where the name Hux isn’t nearly as well-known as uptown.

“How do you know about it?”
“Word goes by in a small street like ours, even to outcasts like me and my whore of a mother.”

The vulgarity doesn’t come as much of a surprise. What is unexpected, however, is how it wakes Jon’s formerly dormant lust for his flesh. That realisation makes him quietly boil in and odd mix of anger and sexual frustration.

“For forty bucks, I’ll let you fuck my mouth right here if you want, and I’ll keep your secret,” the boy continues matter-of-factly, taking a drag from his cigarette before flicking it outside through the window. “I’m told I’m pretty good at it.”

Jon Hux could ask why the boy, because Ben Solo is hardly anything more than an overgrown boy, is doing this. There’s a broken quality about his whole being that is enticing, one he won’t get once he gets back to MIT, to Elaine and to real life. He could refuse, too, and not give reason to his unnatural desires, but he doesn’t. Jon doesn’t care, and he pays, and he fucks. The boy hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was good with his mouth, and it makes Jon wonder very briefly, had he had the chance, if he would have folded him down and taken him another way afterwards.

Climax comes and makes his whole body shake, both from sexual satisfaction and self disgust. He’s vaguely reminded of that Gregory Peck movie and of Elaine Phasma as he watches the boy spit out his sperm out of the window. The gesture is crass, just as Ben Solo is, just as this whole situation has turned into.

Jon Hux drops Ben Solo a few streets away from his own home, then drives around the endless suburbian desert of pools and neatly trimmed lawn that sprawls through tendrils of neat asphalt streets and concrete highways. It feels like both paradise and hell, and he briefly wonders if he’ll manage to sleep tonight. He knows he will. There isn’t much room for conscience in the Hux household, between Father’s war medals and social obligations.

It’s morning when he finally gets home, and his luggage for college are already packed in his room. He’s ready for the car ride to MIT, away from this place and from Ben Solo.

*
It’s more Gore Vidal meets The Graduate than John Cheever, but I wanted to try this out. Also I gave everyone names that I felt didn't stick out too much in the 1950s, I hope it's okay.

This was really good! It's something about Hux that lends itself well to this kind of setting.

It's the lawful evil quality to his character that dreadful city dwellers like me like to associate to surburbia. He just looks like the kind of quietly repressed terrible person that lurks under a careful social facade, I feel haha!

OP

Oh, that's beautiful. I love the visuals of the sprawling suburban desert and tendrils and glittering water, and I love the feeling of routine and slow precision that permeates the whole thing. Gorgeous.

I'm happy you liked it! I should be the one thanking you since it's your prompt that got me to read The Swimmer, and hopefully more Cheever in the future!

OP

Aah, I'm so very happy to hear that! :) I hope you enjoy your discovery, and happy reading :) :) :)

I feel absurdly cultured, sitting here reading about literary styled blowjobs set in the repressed 1950s suburban darkside.

But really, this was fantastic. I could visualize everything so clearly. A great fill for one of those prompts that I scroll past thinking, "how the hell would that even work?" This is how.

I aim to make blowjobs feel as pompous and intellectually pretentious as they rightfully should be. Mad Men ain't got nothing on me ;). I'm glad you enjoyed the story, it was a blast to write for me too! If you have any absurd historical AU prompts you feel are never going to cut it, feel free to post them for me, I always like a challenge!

Absurd historical AU prompts you say? Nah, that's not really-- *trips* *thousands of Regency AU prompts fall out of my pockets* fuck those aren't mine I swear I'm just holding them for other anons... ;)

Honestly, some of my fave fills on this meme have come out of nowhere from prompts I didn't look at twice, so I'm not qualified to single out anything. Also, aside from the Pride & Prejudice ones, I can only recall two other "historical" AU prompts off the top of my head:
1. Witch trials AU with Witchfinder General Hux
2. WET HOT GALACTIC SUMMER CAMP (the 80s is historical ok)

And I don't have links, so I'm just useless. Pfft. But I'll be back if I ever do see anything!

Please do! The witch hunter one is 1000000% my thing (guess who's reading The Crucible right now haha!), I'll be sure to check whatever you'll post!

Witch prompts!

Kylux AU, witch hunt, fucked up torture
https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/2821.html?thread=4243717#cmt4243717

Kylux - Witch Burning (not AU)
http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/3467.html?thread=6433675#cmt6433675

But if neither of those takes your fancy I'm just gonna yell "CRUCIBLE AU!" at you and hope a fic falls out because omg yes.

I'm filling the first one, if you're still there! Thank you for the request rec!

EEEEEEE! I am here, and I see it! :D

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PROMPT POST #4

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