Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13902564.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Betty_Cooper/Jughead_Jones
  Character:
      Betty_Cooper, Jughead_Jones
  Additional Tags:
      bughead_-_Freeform, Summer_Love, Romance, Jughead's_Manuscript, (whatever
      happened_to_that_manuscript_btw?), Betty_being_helpful, Betty's_proud_of
      Jughead, Jughead_can't_stop_making_'90s_references, Banter, First_Time
  Series:
      Part 11 of Bughead_Stories
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-03-08 Words: 4342
****** Little Details ******
by ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary
     Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. Summer has rolled around and
     Jughead's hanging out at Archie's place, finessing the final draft of
     the story he wrote around Jason Blossom's murder. Betty, ever
     Jughead's partner in crime, is there to help, especially to make sure
     he nails those little details. Rated E for a thorough going-over -
     though not of the manuscript.
“I’m in it too then, right?”
Betty flopped onto Archie’s bed and stared down at Jughead. He sat on the
ground, his back against the mattress. Betty wasn’t quite close enough to look
over his shoulder, but he snapped his laptop shut anyway.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, turning his head to look at her, “you might be.”
Betty’s smile built slowly, like the shitty internet connection Jughead was
still trying to get used to at his new home on the South side. She was so
beautiful. He definitely hadn’t seen anything like her twisted blonde ponytail
since he’d moved, and even that one little piece of her was a sight for sore
eyes.
“How much am I in it? You can tell me, Juggy.”
Betty shifted her weight onto one elbow, reaching out with her other hand to
run her fingers along the back of his neck. She’d read versions of his work
before, but nothing recent, nothing where he’d tidied it up and fleshed it out.
Jughead sighed, closing his eyes, and leaned his head back into her hand.
“Well, my story’s about the whole thing, right from the start.” He opened his
eyes to look at her and she stared back, in repose but as alert as ever. “You
know how many people were involved, since we saw it through to the bitter end…”
Betty nodded. “…but I would say that, in my version of events at least, you do
emerge as a major player in the drama.”
She grinned.
“That is so cool, Juggy. I’m really proud of you.” Betty made her sweet,
scrunched up ‘I’m really proud of you’ face at him. Jughead looked down,
embarrassed, but he was smiling. “So what are you going to do with it now? Get
somebody to look at the manuscript? Besides me and your dad, I mean.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He stretched his arm back and grabbed her fingers in his. “I
can’t stop checking it though. There are so many little details. I don’t want
to write a kickass metaphor and have it dragged down in the next sentence by
some technical inaccuracy. I think Kevin’s getting pretty sick of me begging
him to ask his dad about crime scene vernacular, but I want to be thorough.”
“Well, if Kev gives you any trouble, you let me know.”
“Ah, the enforcer,” said Jughead sarcastically. Betty scooted forward on her
stomach and kissed the side of his neck. That was nice.
They’d all been pretty spectacular to him lately, though Jughead would never
let them know in exactly those words. While school was still in, he’d talked to
Betty on the phone almost every night and seen her most weekends. Usually they
weren’t alone and Jughead felt he’d been on a world record number of double
dates―with Archie and Veronica making up the companion set. The phrase ‘double
date’ made Jughead mentally gag, so he tried never to use it aloud. Conversely,
Betty threw it around like confetti. He griped, but he couldn’t begrudge her
that small happiness, and she hadbeen happy since the weirdness with Archie was
resolved. Good thing too because, selfishly, Jughead didn’t want a rift that
would cause him to lose half (one out of two) of his friends. Or more like two
thirds, since Veronica had been annoyingly persistent in her friendliness. She
just wasn’t hardwired to accept that there might be a situation she couldn’t
nose her way into. Nevertheless, if Archie went, she went. Jughead had a
feeling Veronica’s top allegiance had shifted from Betty to Archie over the
last few months. He knew how she felt, but backwards.
Summer had come to let them strengthen those bonds until it didn’t look like
anyone was about to be unceremoniously ejected from anyone else’s life anytime
soon. Jughead was crashing at Archie’s for a whole week as July crept stickily
into August. Today, however, Archie Andrews, the man the legend, was not at
home. He and his parents, plus Veronica and hers (her father a newly minted
Riverdalian) were doing lots of activities that reeked of family quality time.
A whole disgusting day of it. Jughead knew lunch and dinner were separated by a
slew of pastimes from a fetishistic hobbyist’s wet dreams, but he’d taken the
words ‘giant chess board’ as his cue to zone out of Archie’s enthusiastic
verbal breakdown of the itinerary. Fleetingly, Jughead had worried for Fred
Andrews’ safety, spending an entire day with his still slightly tenuous wife,
the woman he’d taken up with in her absence, and that woman’s husband―fresh
from the slammer. Sure, it sounded like a perfectly normal day, if you were
living in a soap opera.
The only part of the plan he’d clung to was the one Archie didn’t have on his
checklist (Veronica had typed the thing up. He’d seen it. There were graphics
to compliment the listed activities. Barf.): alone time with Betty. If Archie
had told him they were going swimming in shark-infested waters without a cage,
Jughead would’ve gleefully helped them all get fitted for wetsuits and packed
them a lunch to eat on the boat.
Betty was nestling her face into him and her breath was warm on his skin.
“How are your… hosts?”
Jughead snorted.
“Everybody’s fine, but don’t call them my ‘hosts’. Makes me sound like a
disease.”
“I remember a time not so long ago that you would’ve considered that a
compliment,” said Betty. “Maybe you’re not as weird as you used to be.”
“How dare you.”
She laughed, wrapping her arms around him and smoothing her hands across his
chest. Jughead put his palm over the back of one of her hands and could still
almost feel his heart pounding. He grabbed his laptop in his free hand, sliding
it under Archie’s bed, then twisted sideways to look at Betty. She didn’t give
him much of an opportunity, her mouth zipping over to his like lightning
seeking the tallest tree. Jughead responded gently, feeling the subtle ripple
of muscles around his lips as he worked them against hers.
Normally, sweet and slow was exactly the approach to take with Betty. She liked
to be held close and allowed to swoon a little in his arms. After the kiss,
she’d take her time opening her eyes, the corners of her mouth inevitably
lifting before her eyelids. Jughead would say something tenderly romantic to
her and touch her cheek or her hair, and then they’d drift slowly back to earth
from their daydream-y cloud.
Apparently that wasn’t what they were doing today.
When Jughead parted his lips to whisper some sweet improvisation, Betty licked
across and past them, finding the tip of his tongue. Obviously he’d Frenched
the girl before, but, you know, tastefully, privately, not suddenly and
desperately, like she was leading him to do now. He’d never really had to worry
about his self-control with Betty because she was usually careful enough for
the both of them. It didn’t bother Jughead; her ability to proceed with caution
was something he’d always respected about her. And yet, her present eagerness
really didn’t bother him either.
Stroking his tongue against hers, Jughead used the taut strands of her hair as
a roadmap to lead his fingers to her ponytail. He slid the elastic out, digging
his fingers into her hair to hold her face against his. Betty moaned softly and
Jughead dragged his fingertips along her scalp. Betty gripped the front of his
t-shirt in a tight fist.
“That tingles,” she murmured against his mouth.
Jughead grinned, opening his eyes just enough to be hit hard by the flush of
Betty’s cheeks. He ran his tongue over the skin in front of her ear and Betty
shivered. That was when Jughead knew for certain that they’d passed some
previously drawn make out line, because Archie’s room was definitely not cold.
He turned the rest of the way to face her, sitting back on his heels so his
jeans were pulled taut across his lap. Jughead worried that might be a problem
sooner rather than later, given how his dick was already stiffening to brush
the confines of his boxers. Moving his mouth under Betty’s jaw and towards her
throat, Jughead reached out, easing his palms down her sides. Betty lifted
herself on her elbows and when Jughead’s hands came back up, he let them slide
over the curve of the outside of her breasts. He felt Betty’s shaky exhale
raise the hairs on the back of his neck and he paused with his hands resting on
the back of her arms.
“Betty?”
“Yeah?” She opened her eyes slowly as always, but the look in them wasn’t
dreamy… it was desirous.
“I want this to continue…” Jughead swallowed, “…so bad, but this position is
giving me ‘sinking of the Titanic’ vibes.”
Betty’s mouth seemed to struggle to contain a laugh.
“Alright. Up or down?” She gestured between the bed and the floor, where
Jughead’s sleeping bag was spread out behind him.
“Remember… where you are,” Jughead paraphrased in his best Mufasa voice. “I
don’t think either of us wants the future trauma of recalling the time we made
out on Archie’s bed.”
“Ok, can we turn off the ‘90s movie references?” Betty gave him an
exaggeratedly fed up look that was very Girl, Interrupted-era Winona Ryder.
Jughead resisted describing it to her as such.
“Ugh,” he groaned deeply, feeling it in his chest, “I was born a decade late.”
“Lucky for me, or else what I was hoping you’d do to me today would be
illegal.”
“D―Do to you?” Suddenly, Jughead could not control his eyes. They were on her
lips, her eyes, the loosely draped neckline of her shirt that he could
currently see down a little.
“Do with me, if you prefer.” Betty looked wonderfully serious. “Although, I
think asking you to do something with me sounds more like an invitation to go
to the grocery store, or on one of the activities from Veronica’s family fun
list.”
“Yeah, for sure. No argument from me on the word choice,” Jughead stumbled out.
Betty waited, but Jughead’s brain had bound his tongue like Houdini.
“And on the implication itself? Any argument there?” Betty looked far less
nonchalant now. She was nervousness edging towards embarrassment, dropping her
eyes from his face to stare at the hands she had flat in front of her on the
bed. Jughead folded his hand lightly around her jaw and her green eyes flicked
up.
“Fuck no.”
“You know,” Betty started, “that kind of sends a mixed message―”
Jughead’s mouth bumped impatiently into hers, cutting off her words and
hopefully some of her anxious thoughts. Betty grabbed the back of his neck,
pressing her mouth furiously against his and Jughead tugged her behind the
arms, pulling her into him more and more, moving his hands to her shoulders,
the center of her back, until she was toppling off the bed onto him.
They were tangled up; Jughead’s bent legs were trapped and he tried to
straighten them without kneeing Betty in the stomach. She, meanwhile, was
repositioning the hands that had clapped down on his chest when she started to
fall, bracing herself on the floor to either side of him instead. A few twists
away from the end of their corporeal Rubik’s Cube, Jughead caught Betty’s pink
face between his hands and leaned up to kiss her. Without their brains to get
in the way, their bodies figures things out for themselves, though it still
resulted in Betty laying stretched out on Jughead like he was a beach towel.
Trustingly, Betty relaxed her arms until her full weight rested on Jughead. He
felt hot and pinned and happy. His erection was obvious.
Jughead groaned into Betty’s mouth when she shuffled around, getting her knees
under her to drag her hips into alignment with his, straddling him. Jughead
groaned more and ran his hand down Betty’s spine. His fingers rode her
vertebrae like waves, stuttering over the closure of her bra and continuing
down to fan across her lower back, then clench firmly around her ass, holding
her to him. Betty jerked and rubbed against him, her breasts as well as her
crotch, so Jughead reached for the hem of her pale peach t-shirt with trembling
fingers. Betty sat up, peeling her body away from his as he peeled the shirt up
her back.
As he was uncovering her breasts, Betty took over and Jughead let his hands
fall to her thighs, via her waist and hips. She looked down at him a little
shyly, but that inner toughness of hers took over (he could see it in her eyes)
and her torso stretched as she drew the shirt up her arms and off.
The sight of her skin was overwhelming. This was why Jughead had turned down
every beach trip Betty had suggested that summer: seeing this much of Betty
meant he couldn’t control himself. The roundness of her breasts in and above
the cups of her white lace bra filled Jughead with simultaneous want and
thankfulness―that he’d urged her to just go ahead to the beach with Veronica
and not feel bad about him staying home. Swim trunks wouldn’t be enough to
conceal the obvious passion her partial nudity inspired in him. It was too
much, and yet, still not enough.
“Can I?”
Jughead held the side of her ribcage, tucking his fingers under the band of her
bra and moving them along the track to the clasp. She nodded, her eyes wide and
void of hesitation.
“Please.”
He pinched the back open then brought his hands to her shoulders, easing down
one strap at a time. Reflexively, Betty’s hands jumped up to hold the cups of
her bra against her as the straps and open clasp hung down. She smiled at him
shakily and exhaled loudly like a woman in labour, working herself up to the
task. Jughead laughed until his dick bumped up against her, making the blood
pulse urgently into his erection. Apparently, that reaffirmation of his desire
was convincing (or distracting) enough to nudge Betty into action, because she
dropped her hands and the pale lingerie followed.
“Oh man,” Jughead said quietly, struggling to sit up with Betty in his lap. He
pressed his lips to her collarbone, breathing the sweet scent of her. Betty had
her hands on his lower back, bringing his shirt up with desperate fingers, the
nails of which scraped against his skin. It caught at Jughead’s shoulders,
netting him into her, her breasts compressing against the planes of his chest.
He raised his arms for her, pulling teasingly at her lips with his own, so that
even before the shirt was off, she was grinding into his lap, making adrenaline
rip through him.
“God, Betty,” he mumbled against her mouth, his arms coming around her far
enough for his hands to close over the opposite sides of her hips. She reached
straight for the protrusion between them, feeling him up roughly before
navigating the button of his jeans back through the hole that held them closed.
He felt out for the floor beside him and slumped back, taking Betty with him,
then rolled her onto her back.
Betty kept her hands at Jughead’s hips, jerking the zipper of his pants down
and wriggling her hand under the waist of his boxers like she was drawing a
name at a raffle. He shuddered as she closed her fingers around his length, her
grasp gentle despite the wild way she’d gone for him. Jughead propped himself
up, glancing down his body to where Betty’s hand had started in with long,
loose strokes, before he had to close his eyes so he didn’t scare Betty when
his eyes rolled back in his head from the pleasure of her touch.
He buried his face in her neck, Betty evidently taking this as her cue to
burrow in a little further, running her fingers from base to tip, while Jughead
started to automatically throw his hips forward against her palm. It was good,
too, too good, and he needed it to last. Jughead moved backwards, down Betty’s
body so that she released her grip―only to replace it on his hip when he bit
lightly down on her breast next to her nipple. Betty moaned, fisting his hair,
and Jughead traced a loving half-circle around her nipple with the tip of his
tongue.
Her chest was heaving suddenly, her skin electrified to his touch. Jughead
moved his mouth over her nipple, beginning with a suck and ending with the
unyielding edge of his teeth. Betty pressed into him, holding his head down
from above, and arching herself up to his mouth from below. Jughead grinned to
himself, kissing wetly over to her other breast as his palm trailed down her
stomach, stilling on her abdomen. She must have expected him to stop there
because Betty practically convulsed in his arms when Jughead skipped down to
cup her firmly between the legs.
“You ready?” he whispered into the smooth skin of her breast.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Now, now, Juggy.”
He flicked open the button of her shorts and lowered the zipper. They must have
been new; the zipper was a little stiff. Jughead levered his body up, watching
his hands reveal more of her. The fastenings undone, he saw an edge of white
lace. His hands felt damp and his mouth was dry. He sat back on his heels as
before, Betty’s hands dropping to the ground when she wasn’t sure where to
settle them, and tugged both layers over the curve of her hips.
The skin of Betty’s abdomen erupted in goosebumps and Jughead glanced up to see
her pleading eyes and tightened raspberry nipples. He bent over, introducing
her goosebumps to the texture of his tongue. Betty let out a gusty exhale like
someone about to laugh, so Jughead ran his tongue a little lower, and a little
lower after that, until he was chasing the upper band of her panties as his
hands removed them. Then, he whisked the layers off her legs and settled back
in, all tongue and no excuse.
Betty cried out when he flattened his tongue over her entrance. So far so good,
she was incredibly wet and soaking him more by the second. Jughead felt her out
painstakingly, as he’d done with her nipples, until Betty was breathing so hard
he was tempted to tell her to put her head between her knees… except his head
was already there. He caught her clit in a swift upward flick of her tongue and
Betty keened, starting to quiver beneath him.
Jughead brought his arm around under her back and partly lifted, partly just
dragged her backwards onto the soft worn cotton of his sleeping bag. As he was
moving himself once again into licking posture, Betty trapped his hips with her
feet, pushing his jeans down his legs. His boxers got hung up on his erection
and Jughead was about to free them when Betty panted out “Let me.” She reached
up and ran a hand across his chest, scratching suddenly over his nipple before
smoothing along his abs. Jughead gave Betty a look composed of a smirk and a
raised eyebrow, but she shrugged, raising her own blonde eyebrow in return, her
eyes glowing like sunlight through a maple leaf.
Her fingers trailed down the V of his hips to stroke again down his length―not
as firmly as he would have liked, but Jughead tried to assure the nearly
overpowering will of his penis that a little patience here would soon be
rewarded. She hooked her fingers under the edge of his boxers and slid them
down to meet his jeans. Jughead kicked both things off awkwardly, hyper-aware
of the weight of his exposed erection hanging between them.
Apparently so was Betty.
She bent her knees and let them fall open to him, Jughead shaking slightly as
he dropped his eyes to stare at her glistening entrance. He could tell this was
Betty asking him to continue and, holy shit, was he ever ready to accept.
Jughead closed the distance between them, giving her a gentle, lingering kiss
when he guided his cock to her by hand. Betty trembled as he ran the head back
and forth over her clit (intentionally) before pressing inside her, one slick
centimeter at a time, internally coaching himself away from the edge of
ultimate bliss.
Betty’s controlled breathing was impressive, but Jughead wasn’t very interested
in that. When she started to relax, running her hands over his shoulders,
Jughead roughly shoved himself the rest of the way in. He could tell the inch
or two he’d held back had surprised her because she shouted his name, clamping
her eyes shut. Biting his lip, Jughead pulled smoothly out, then pushed just as
smoothly back in. Betty’s skin was getting hot, her hands clammy when she
gripped his upper back. He’d never wanted to kiss her so badly, but there was
too much to watch. Her face hid nothing and he tracked her building pleasure in
the blush of her cheeks, the shine of her eyes, and the way her lips were
turning red from her clipping them with her teeth. She was breathtaking.
Getting comfortable with his steady rhythm, Betty started answering Jughead’s
thrusts, pushing dependably against him to make sure she was getting every
inch, every time. The feel of her rocking away beneath him seemed too good to
be deserved and Jughead excitedly drove into her. Hard. Her nails dug into his
back and she arched her neck, sliding her bright blonde hair along the ground.
“More like that,” she panted.
Jughead drilled into her again, sharply enough that the sleeping bag shifted
under them, frictionless on the hardwood floor of Archie’s bedroom. Betty let
out a hysterical little giggle and planted her bare feet on the floor to either
side of the sleeping bag. Jughead’s feet were already touching floor, but he
tucked his hands under the sides of the bag and stuck them to the ground, the
material cradling Betty’s shoulders. They, at least, wouldn’t be going anywhere
now.
He thrust forward, Betty lifting her hips to his and the sleeping bag sliding
away a little more. It bunched under her hips and Jughead left it alone,
ploughing ahead at a more rapid pace. Betty moaned, her hips tilting up
differently than before. He must have been connecting with a new spot inside
her. A good one.
Jughead dove into her over and over, the bite of her nails on his back acting
as the response to his call. Betty started to grasp at him more frantically,
mumbling his name, so Jughead hastily felt between them, pressing down on her
clit and dragging it in a lazy loop. It was slicked by her arousal, everything
in that area was, and tricky to keep his fingers on, but concentrating hard on
that allowed Jughead a little more time to stave off his own imminent climax.
“Juggy... Juggy JuggyJuggyJuggy,” Betty moaned, his name tumbling out
exponentially faster.
He angled his hips the best he could and aimed for that pleasurable target
inside her front wall. Betty let out a sobbing cry and arched her back,
slamming her hips into his so that Jughead nearly choked on the force of his
own release, grabbing her to him as they gasped and groaned together. He was
dying. He was being born. He was Ellie Arroway in Contact when she goes
hurtling through the wormhole. Even his unhinged mid-orgasm mind had a ‘90s
movie reference ready.
Jughead slowed the steady stroke his hips had taken it upon themselves to keep
up while his mind was elsewhere and pulled gingerly out of Betty. She breathed
in and out shakily, but nodded to him to signal she was ok. Jughead flopped
over onto his side, taking a minute to realize his sweaty skin was sticking to
wood floor, not cotton sleeping bag. Keeping his head horizontal, Jughead
scanned around, discovering the sleeping bag crumpled and crammed against the
wall. He gestured to it weakly and Betty tipped her head back to look. She
laughed.
“I noticed it wasn’t under my back anymore, but I was a little too distracted
to worry about where it had gone.”
“Well, if that isn’t the ultimate flattery, I don’t know what is.” Jughead
threw his arm over Betty and tugged her against him. She smiled and kissed him,
touching his cheek and winding her fingers in his hair.
They lay still for several minutes, just to breathe.
“So, do you think that’ll help?” asked Betty.
Jughead frowned in confusion.
“Will what help with what?”
Betty was grinning.
“Will this,” she rolled to face him and pressed her naked body more firmly into
his, “help with your manuscript.”
“Oh, you mean my secret erotica project?”
Betty laughed.
“No, but if you have one, I’d be very interested in looking it over. You said
you were trying not to miss any little details in your manuscript. You also led
me to believe I was a pretty crucial part of it.” Betty looked at him smugly
and Jughead snorted.
“There is no way in hell I’m sharing intimate details of your body with the
world―”
“Well, it’s quite an assumption to make that your story would have such a wide
audience.”
Jughead’s mouth dropped open.
“Has anyone ever told you that sex makes you really cocky?”
“You know I’ve only ever had it with you,” Betty said, rolling her eyes
playfully.
“Well nowI’m feeling cocky.”
“Prove it.”
Jughead grinned and kissed her deeply. Betty pulled back.
“And those details?”
“Oh, I don’t need to write them down to remember them.” He tapped his temple
and Betty smiled. “And maybe I’ll need material for the sequel.”
Betty made a shocked, laughing noise, but Jughead’s mouth was already closing
over hers.
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