Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12787875.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Betty_Cooper/Jughead_Jones, Betty_Cooper_&_Jughead_Jones
  Character:
      Jughead_Jones, Betty_Cooper
  Additional Tags:
      School_newspaper_setting, No_Murder_AU, Sexy_incentives, Editor_betty,
      Writing_is_hard_and_I_feel_for_Jughead, Betty_is_in_charge_and_we_are_all
      okay_with_that, especially_Jughead, Mostly_just_an_excuse_for_sexy_time,
      not_much_plot_here
  Series:
      Part 2 of The_Ski_Lodge_Verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-21 Words: 1437
****** Hot Off the Presses ******
by slantedsunlight
Summary
     Jughead is struggling to finish an article for the Blue & Gold, but
     luckily his editor knows exactly how to motivate him.
Notes
     This snippet takes place about a year after the events of Needing/
     Getting, but can be read as a stand-alone PWP. I wanted to give you
     guys the steamy scene we all hoped for in N/G, and who can resist
     more of school newspaper Bughead? Let me know what you think! <3
Jughead looked up from his laptop to find almost complete darkness in the dusty
classroom-turned-headquarters of the Blue & Gold. He had spent all afternoon
attempting to chip away at an article, only noting time as a countdown to his
looming deadline, until he’d lost track of his surroundings. This was probably
the latest he’d ever stayed at school, barring those few weeks he’d slept in
the janitor’s closet. It was chilly too, he realized, as he shivered in his
denim jacket. Dragging his attention from the screen, he leaned back in the
squeaky desk chair, rubbing his eyes and cursing himself for choosing a weekend
of video games with Archie over writing. But the article topic was beyond
banal, and the words just weren’t coming, then or now.
“I hate writing,” he announced aloud.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Juggie,” Betty said from behind him. Spinning around
in the chair, he found his girlfriend leaning in the doorway. “We go to print
in nine hours, and it’s going to be awfully difficult to find a new reporter on
such short notice.”
Jug fought a smile, mock-glaring at her as he spun back toward his computer.
“You wouldn’t dare replace the finest reporter this paper’s ever seen,” he
teased.
He felt her arms go around his shoulders from behind, and she pressed a sweet
kiss to his cheek.
“You’re right, I would never,” she said softly. Jug turned to pull her into his
lap, resting his face in the crook of her neck.
“Maybe you should,” he admitted, his lips brushing her skin as he talked. “I
don’t think I can finish this piece-of-shit column on the evolution of the
school mascot. I’m not fit to serve your paper.”
“Our paper,” she reminded him. “And you seemed jazzed about it when Principal
Weatherbee proposed it.”
“That was before I knew the ‘history’ of The Bulldog,” he said, pulling back so
she could enjoy the full effect of his eye roll.  “There’s only been two
changes to his iconography since the school opened, and both of them were to
make him look meaner. It’s a real Panama Papers exposé in the making.”
Betty huffed a laugh and stood again, making Jug whine at the loss of contact -
until she settled back down, straddling him with a sly smile. “Maybe you just
need some motivation.”
The heat in her eyes sent sparks dancing through him. Sliding his hands up her
waist, he smirked. “My work ethic could definitely use a boost. You gonna pay
me by the word, boss?”
Betty leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, teasing him with a flick of her
tongue, but pulling back before he could deepen the kiss.
“Five hundred words, right?” she breathed into his ear, fingers sliding into
the hair at the back of his neck.
“Right,” he answered, voice going low and unsteady as she nipped his earlobe,
“and I’ve got 200 down so far, mostly fluff.”
“The whole article is fluff, Juggie. That’s the point of the piece.” He was
having trouble focusing on what she was saying, transfixed with the hot kisses
she was trailing down his neck, each one warming him a little more. “If every
article in the paper was hard hitting journalism, the student body would get
depressed, or more likely, bored.”
He got his hands under her shirt then, roaming the warm skin of her back,
pressing her closer. “Bored? This is the sexiest paper I’ve ever worked for,”
he murmured, hardly listening to what he himself was saying.
She giggled a little, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as he grinned,
but then she was gone, all heat and softness dancing out of his reach, and he
gazed up at her with a petulant scowl.
“Second paragraph needs stronger support.”
She had tugged his laptop toward her, and was shuffling through his notes, all
business. “You can bolster that with this interview with the school librarian,
that’ll be good for at least 100 more words.”
Still dizzy with unsatisfied lust, it took Jughead a moment to catch up.
“Can’t we just-”
“Nope,” she said, resolute and completely unfair, in his opinion. “Finish the
body first.”
He resisted the urge to waggle his eyebrows at that, but only because Betty was
leaning down again, to whisper in his ear just what he would get if he followed
orders.
When she stepped back, arms crossed and watching him with a coy smile, Jug had
to focus on breathing for a moment, the sound of blood rushing through his ears
on the way to his dick the only thing he could hear. Then he tugged his beanie
down, pulled his laptop back, and got to work.
 
In ten minutes he was hitting the final keystroke to end his fourth paragraph,
and he leaned away again, amazed at how quickly the piece had suddenly
solidified.
“Betty, you’re magic.”
She glanced up from her phone and smiled, turning to read his new draft.
“See? There’s the writer I know and love.”
Before he could reply, she was kneeling between his legs, her pleated skirt
flowing down to skim the linoleum. Jug couldn’t help himself, lifting a hand to
brush over her flushed cheek in reverence as she unbuttoned his pants. They had
been fooling around for months, and had finally graduated to sleeping together
more recently, but the excitement was fresh every time, the thrill of being
with Betty Cooper never wearing off for him.
And then there was the view of her now, on her knees in front of him, working a
hand around his erection with such a focused expression that he had to tilt his
head back, reaching for the threads of his composure, and praying he’d last an
appropriate, unembarrassing amount of time.
When she licked her way around him, sucking him into her mouth, he swore under
his breath.
She was as diligent at sex as she was at anything, her drive to be the best
just as fierce. Like the clever detective she was, Betty was quick to notice
his reactions, cataloging the sounds he made and the way his fingers gripped at
her hair, perfect ponytail going messy as he drew her in. The swirl of tongue
that made him shiver, the act of swallowing that had his hips jerking, a
succession of “sorrys” tumbling out of him when he pulled her hair; each part
was recorded and then used to drive him crazy, in ways he wished would never
end. But the feel of her pretty blue eyes burning hot into his from below was
enough to send him over the edge, coming undone.
Going boneless, Jug slumped back in the chair, breathing hard into the cool air
of the classroom. Then he reached for her, and Betty climbed into his lap
again, where he breathed thanks and praise into her cleavage.
“Juggie,” she murmured, after a prolonged moment of cuddling.
“Hm?”
“Your conclusion needs reworking.”
He snorted. “You’re the toughest editor I’ve ever worked with, Betts.”
“I’m the only editor you’ve ever worked with,” she replied, amused. “Plus, we
go to print in-” she checked her watch, “eight hours.”
Sighing dramatically, Jughead nevertheless released his hold on her.
She stood, pulling the tie out of her hair to comb through the mess with her
fingers, while Jug buttoned up his pants and reluctantly rolled back to his
computer.
His own words swam before him, brain still fuzzy on endorphins, and he sighed
again. “Any tips for the conclusion?”
Pulling on a cardigan, Betty appeared to think it over.
“Add in Weatherbee’s comment about potential changes for The Bulldog next year,
and leave the possibility open to student opinion. It invites conversation.”
Jug quirked a brow. “You mean the casual comment he made when he suggested the
story -- totally off the record?”
Betty smiled knowingly and came to stand next to him, where she opened
something on her phone. Jug took the opportunity to hook an arm around her
legs, enjoying having her next to him. She handed him the phone without
comment, clearly bemused.
On the screen, an email chain between herself and the principal offered consent
to use the comment in question. The time stamp was from only 45 minutes before.
When he looked up at her, incredulous, Betty winked at him.
“I want your 500 words on my desk in half an hour, okay?”
“I want you on the desk after that,” he quipped back.
“Deal,” she said, and they shook on it, like true professionals.
After all, they had a paper to run.
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