#i think it had a really good idea handing out wallpapers as prizes for completing things in game

[roughentumble]

fucked up that love live just doesn't exist anymore. like you cant go and play it in offline mode or whatever its just a thing thats gone. landmark in the mobile rhythm game sphere and no subsequent generations will ever be able to play it. a totally ephemeral game. it doesnt exist on a disk anywhere, despite the fact they arguably couldve made it that way. about my favorite rhythm game ive played and what, all gone forever, no more snow halation? no more strawberry trapper?

it just sucks that theyre allowed to destroy something forever. that there isnt a way to save it. no one cares about game preservation.

[thethespacecoyote]

“those who can’t do, teach”

“You have your history final in a few days,” Hux says, in a tone a little too dry for the situation, as Ben slides the hand down towards his thigh, “we really need to focus if you’re going to pass.”

“If I unwind first, it’ll help my information retention,” Ben counters as he noses against the shell of Hux’s ear, “just a quickie. Then we’ll get down to the books.”

They hardly ever use books. Hux has a little whiteboard and a tablet where Ben can look up the texts assigned to him by his professor, as well as supplementary reading and primary sources Hux has chosen himself to aid in his student’s education. Ben is a visual learner, so Hux has had to assemble a wide variety of videos and interactive quizzes. He swears, some days he doesn’t think Ben doesn’t fully appreciate just how much work he puts into their lesson plans.

He does, however, show his appreciation for other parts of Hux a lot more frequently.

I wanted to write intercrural fic again and finally thought of an idea with tutor!Hux and college student!Kylo. I had a lot of fun writing this. If you like it please leave me a comment on ao3. 

The parents of the student he tutors on Tuesdays are not exactly the vain, stuffy type, and probably wouldn’t care if Hux wore jeans and a T-shirt to his sessions with their son, but Hux hasn’t worn his nice clothes since his last round of unsuccessful university interviews, and he’ll always leap at the chance to look smart and put together. So, as always, he shows up to the Solo-Organa household in style, with his navy blue blazer and matching pants, brown Oxfords, all capped off with a freshly shaven chin and hair parted neatly to the right. He stands at attention on the porch, catching patterns in the ivy growing over the house's white walls as he waits for an answer to his knock. He doesn’t have to wait for long, as the huge, glossy door eventually opens up to reveal Hux’s equally huge pupil.

“Hey. You’re a little early,” Ben replies casually as he steps aside to let Hux in, closing the door behind them. Ben always comments on this, even though Hux has shown up either five or ten minutes early to their sessions since the second time they met, when he figured out that Ben takes a little time to get settled down and ready to work.

“Hello Ben. Are your parents home?” Hux asks, looking about the entranceway for a sight or sound of activity, but the big house yawns quietly around them. Ben shrugs.

“Nah. Mom and Dad are out. Some thing at city hall Dad was complaining about.”

It seems like Ben’s parents are out most of the time. Hux knows his mother is a councilwoman, and his father seems to take on an odd array of freelance jobs with no strict correlation between them. They're so close to the adjacent college that Ben still lives at home, though no doubt his parents could afford to house him on campus. But Hux far prefers the thoughtful and transitional interior design to the cramped clutter a dorm room would potentially offer, so he can't complain much.

He allows Ben to lead him into the kitchen for a glass of water and a snack, though Hux hardly thinks an entire box of last night’s takeout is small enough to qualify as a “snack,” then follows him up the stairs to the second floor. However, once they get into Ben’s bedroom and Hux starts to lay out his book bag and the supplies inside on the provided desk, it becomes obvious that Ben is still hungry. Just in a different way.

The room is huge like the rest of his house, almost as big as the kitchen and adjoining living room in Hux’s small apartment, and yet Ben ruins the glorious space with messy black bedsheets, an uninspired taupe wallpaper, and scores of huge, ghoulish posters depicting six black-clad figures and the ominous initials “K.O.R.” etched in bloodied font. Apparently, they’re a band, as Ben cordially explained to him during their first session, but Hux hopes he never has to hear what kind of “music” they produce from their skull-like masks.

Hux is looking at one particularly gruesome picture of the members clustered around an altar of reanimated crows when Ben comes up behind him, and first Hux thinks he has a question but then a hand sits on his hip, and he sighs.

“Ben…”

“What?”

“You have your history final in a few days,” Hux says, in a tone a little too dry for the situation, as Ben slides the hand down towards his thigh, “we really need to focus if you’re going to pass.”

“If I unwind first, it’ll help my information retention,” Ben counters as he noses against the shell of Hux’s ear, “just a quickie. Then we’ll get down to the books.”

They hardly ever use books. Hux has a little whiteboard and a tablet where Ben can look up the texts assigned to him by his professor, as well as supplementary reading and primary sources Hux has chosen himself to aid in his student’s education. Ben is a visual learner, so Hux has had to assemble a wide variety of videos and interactive quizzes. He swears, some days he doesn’t think Ben doesn’t fully appreciate just how much work he puts into their lesson plans.

He does, however, show his appreciation for other parts of Hux a lot more frequently.

Ben especially seems to like Hux’s waist, flattening the fabric of his suit to his sides to accentuate where his body pinches inwards. There truly defines the differences in breadth between them, as Ben’s hands look and feel absolutely huge when held up to his slight bulk. They’re nearly the same height, allowing Hux to register his disapproval more directly to his pupil when he fails to complete his coursework in a timely matter, but there’s no denying Ben is far larger than him, with a body built by freak genetics and toned with obsessive, toiling hours in the gym and on the field.

“Ben no,” Hux protests as he pinches the back of his student’s hand, which has started to travel to the crotch of his dress pants. “If your parents ever find out about this, I lose my job and you lose your only chance to attain enough credits to graduate.”

“They’re not here. And they’re never gonna find out.”

“If you fail this exam as badly as I fear you will, they’ll suspect something.”

“I won’t fail. Even if we spent the next three days fucking in my bedroom I wouldn’t fail. You’re that good a teacher.”

“Flattery? You think that will sway me from my lesson plan?” Hux scowls as Ben molds his chest to his back. The smell of sweat, unwashed cotton, and body spray invade his nose. Ben must have gone to the gym earlier, or tossed those barbells in the corner about as he grunted like an animal. Hux needs to introduce him to a decent cologne one of these days.

“You like being told you’re smart. That’s why you became a tutor, right? To prove you’re smarter than people?”

“I became a tutor because my post-graduate career has so far been underwhelming,” Hux dismisses. That, and he has rent to pay and a cat to feed, and if he ends up fired because Ben can’t focus on exam prep for five minutes without thinking about feeling Hux up he’ll be very upset.

“Please. Come on, Armitage.”

Hux groans. He knew it was a mistake to tell Ben his name. He knows just the way to roll it in his mouth, dancing between pleading and husky, in a perfect tone to get Hux shivery and pliable. Oh hell. 

There’s no way either of them will be able to concentrate like this.

“Fine,” Hux relents, turning his head to look at Ben out of the corner of his eye, “but I’m going to work you extra hard this evening. This will count as one of your study breaks.”

“Sure thing, professor,” Ben breathes eagerly against Hux’s neck, the hand on his thigh already moving to fiddle with the zipper of his pants. Hux leans his head back, stiffly allowing Ben more access, and he quickly takes advantage, pressing a warm, wet kiss against his throat.

Pleasant feelings start to squirm in Hux’s belly as Ben palms his groin, his other hand easily slipping open the three buttons on his blazer. He doesn’t bother to remove it, though, interested only in freeing up Hux’s front so he can explore it better. He tuts when Ben gives his pec a squeeze and pushes his hips forward, reminding Hux of his impressive length as he grinds it against his ass.

“Do it between my thighs,” Hux decides, knowing he wont want to sit on his smarting ass for hours as Ben works through his comprehension of the Spanish-American War. “You still have lubricant?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Course I do.”

“Silly me. I forgot who I was talking to.” Hux sits on the bed, unzipping his pants all the way and shimmying them down as Ben fetches the lube from the nightstand drawer. His back muscles flex through the tightness of his shirt, like powerful tides pushing up out of the depths of the sea. When he returns, Ben sets aside the lube for a moment to brush his fingers against the side of Hux’s head, dipping into his hair, before leaning in to kiss him. A couples seconds and Hux is lying on his back in the bed, with Ben half leaned on top of him exploring his mouth with gusto he wished he had for his studies.  

Part of Hux still doesn’t understand it. A young man like Ben Solo—attractive, athletic, the son of wealthy and distinguished parents—could have any number of girls or boys he wanted, surely. Hux remembers college, how it had reeked of hormones and alcohol properly let loose for the first time without the fear of parental discovery. A pot of sex and attempts at higher learning, all mingled together and bubbling over. Surely Ben would’ve had no issue finding a decent lay his age.

And yet he has eyes for his tutor, five years his senior. Hux knows he’s no prize, even discounting his age—he is soft everywhere Ben is muscled, drawn and pallid where he is unfettered and vigorous, and he cares more for literature and analysis than the raucous music and brazen athletics that Ben favors. If Hux tried, he could probably find a pair more mismatched than they are, but it would be difficult and require a wider survey.

And yet it was Ben who approached him first, leaning in to kiss him over a reenacted video of the Battle of Antietam. Their first, furtive hand-jobs were stroked in rhythm to the sounds of gunshots and narrated personal accounts, and the first time Hux had gotten down on his knees in Ben’s bedroom and taken his tremendous, virile cock down his throat the impassioned speeches of William Jennings Bryant were still ringing through his ears. Indeed, sex had become a part of their sessions together, and to Hux’s surprise Ben’s grades haven’t suffered as a result.

But he still couldn’t risk failing that final. So Hux swats at Ben’s shoulder until he breaks the kiss, tells him:

“Hurry it up.”

And brings his knees to his chest, exposing his bare rear to the young man’s eyes.

Ben raises his eyebrow and a smirk at the same time.

“Eager?”

“Eager to get to what your parents are paying for,” Hux says, and steals the smile from Ben’s face a bit.

“Dude, don’t talk about my parents when I’m about to get my dick out.”

“Then get it out already!” Hux hurries, trying to make himself believe he’s only acting impatiently for the acceptable reasons. But it’s hard not to notice the beginnings of twitching in his own cock as he lies with his ass out before his pupil.

Hux hears the squelch of lubrication as Ben squeezes the tube onto his finger and rubs it against his palm. His breath hitches with anticipation a moment before Ben touches between his thighs, sliding a warm, slick digit in the tight crease. He moves it up and down before jabbing it forwards, coating the available flesh. It’s a little oily, and Hux rubs his thighs together experimentally, feeling how easily they slide against each other while also helping to spread the lube around himself.

Hux swears under his breath as Ben’s knuckles nearly skim the underside of his cock, heightening his anticipation despite himself. Damn it, he’s doing this because Ben wants to, because he won't allow them to move onto the lesson plan otherwise. Hux doesn’t want to accept he’s into it, because then what kind of degenerate would that make him? Letting his pupil fuck his thighs, in the house of his parents, when they’re supposed to be ensuring that Ben won’t mix up Andrew Johnson with Andrew Jackson.

Hux hears the jingling of a belt and, though he can’t see it, he assumes Ben is opening up his own pants as he braces Hux’s knees with his unsullied hand. His heart picks up beating, and he cranes his neck up off the pillow as Ben unbends his legs and lets them rest against his body, angled perpendicular to his spine.

Hux won’t lie, he loves that cock of Ben’s. It’s thick like the rest of him, not the longest Hux has ever seen but with a great enough girth to fill his fist and stretch his throat out in just the way he likes. And he’s so earnest in the way he touches Hux, with a hint of a man who understands the value of lovemaking rather than purely lecherous fucking, not that Hux hasn’t had his fair share of the latter in his life. But it’s nice, to see that even a cocksure young man like Ben understands how to properly treat a bed partner. Some older individuals Hux has consorted with could learn a thing or two from him.

Hux flinches as Ben’s cock slides between his thighs, eventually poking out the other side, its fat head resting atop his downy balls. Ben rests Hux’s clasped calves over one shoulder, keeping his legs in the diagonal so he can see his face. Hux blushes, dragging his teeth against his lower lip as Ben lingers for a moment, most likely enjoying the feeling of soft flesh around his cock.

“Oh…” Hux suddenly moans when Ben starts to move, first pulling out a bit then sliding back into place, finding an acceptably steady rhythm after a couple moments feeling out the best way to drive his cock between Hux’s thighs.  

Ben’s shaft soon rubs over the entirety of Hux’s undercarriage, from his quivery hole over his taint to his balls and cock, able to cover all ground in a single long thrust. Hux’s toes curl in his shoes as he puffed breath from his cheeks, which have surely grown red if the heat he feels there is any indication. He must look truly debauched to Ben, who undoubtedly enjoys seeing his well-dressed, tightly-wound tutor in such a state. He wonders if it’s a point of pride to him, or some kind of dare he’s set up with his buddies, to drive Hux mad with just this, just the barest taste of his cock. And yet despite his attitude, Ben doesn’t strike Hux as much of a braggart. He aced his midterm awhile back, and didn’t even tell Hux until he pressed him for details partway through their subsequent session.

Truly, there’s a more earnest, contemplative side of Ben that Hux enjoys the most, that resurfaces in moments of vulnerability like this, with sincere sexuality, care for the man only hired to bring his grades up and keep him on that damned lacrosse team.

It’s almost a shame Hux didn’t have someone like Ben while he was in college.

The motion of their bodies grows more frenetic, shifting Ben’s bed slightly. One of Hux’s hand curls into a fist, nails brushing against his palm as the other reaches for his cock, needing to get off and resolve the yearning growing in his heart, but Ben beats him to it, leaves Hux’s hand to rest against his panting belly as he loosely cups the both of their cocks. Ben’s thrusts grow more shallow, mere rutting against Hux’s cock within the cage of his fingers.

“That’s it, yes—” He encourages, though Ben needs none, dipping his head in concentration as he deftly jerks the both of them off to their peak.

Hux’s own release soon splatters against his lower belly, barely missing the rucked-up hem of his dress shirt. He pants, his thighs twitching around Ben’s cock, noticing a moment later that he too has come all over him. Hux should feel upset by it, how messy he’s become, but it’s not the worst sensation in the world. It makes him think about how it would feel to have Ben finish inside of him, leave him wet and dripping for more.

Perhaps. If Ben does well enough on this final, he’ll consider it. Positive reinforcement is yet another tool in his tutorial arsenal, after all. Though he certainly enjoys food as much as sex—maybe he should treat Ben to dinner first.

“Are you...substantially unwound?” Hux says in between pants as Ben lowers his legs, slips his cock out from between his soiled thighs. He tries to sit up when Ben leans in for another kiss, but Hux fusses and turns his head away, placing a staying hand on his chest. But then Ben puts on such a wounded look he can’t deny him, and meets his lips in one last kiss before pressing a finger to them.

“Give me a moment to freshen up,” Hux says as he fishes in his coat pocket for a pack of tissues, fiddling it open. “Then we’re getting right down to work. No complaints.”

And Ben nods, smiles, accepts a tissue from Hux to clean himself up. They zip up their pants and buckle their belts, Hux smooths his hair back into place and it’s almost like none of this ever happened—yet the confident, pleased grin on Ben’s face remains the same.

“I’m all yours, professor.”