Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11640891.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Jughead_Jones/Original_Character(s), FP_Jones_II/Jughead_Jones
  Character:
      Jughead_Jones, FP_Jones_II
  Additional Tags:
      Forced_Orgasm, Non-Consensual_Voyeurism, Dirty_Talk, Humiliation
  Collections:
      Anonymous, Riverdale_Kinkmeme
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-30 Words: 2289
****** hold back the fear, my dear ******
by Anonymous
Summary
     FP has racked up a debt; they decide his son can help him pay it off.
Notes
     written for the kinkmeme_prompt : To punish FP, a Serpent (the
     'leader'?) fucks Jughead and forces FP to watch.
     Extra credit:
     + Jughead doesn't want it, but his body does... a lot
     + the Serpent makes it as "intimate" as possible for maximum
     embarrassment (gentle, kissing, pet names, etc.)
     + the Serpent telling FP how it feels, taunting him, and FP can't
     help but get turned on
     (just pretend fp isn't the leader basically also do read the tags be
     safe)
See the end of the work for more notes
 
There are a lot of bad decisions that have led up to this point. FP wishes he
had gotten his shit together about halfway through that bad decision making
spree, but he never did, because he’s a shit person and a shit father and he
wishes he’d never told anyone his son’s goddamn name, either—or at least told
them a fake one, because there were millions of Jakes or Billys or Tims in the
world, but there was only one Jughead. They’d found him easy. A little asking
around had brought them right to his son’s door, no one working security
because he worked at the old ass Drive In, no one looking out for him so they’d
grabbed him easy.
And now they’re here: FP, the gang leader and Jughead, his amazing boy who
deserves none of the shit the world throws at him but has to deal with it
anyways.
The thing is, the guy has a gun, and FP does not. All his weapons had been
taken when he was patted down, as per usual, and lord knows Jughead didn’t
carry shit to protect himself, as much as FP insisted he should. The guy has a
gun, and the guy also has a bunch of other guys waiting just outside that he
can call for at any moment, and they also have guns. FP has no gun, so he sits
on the chair pulled up just for him at the head of the huge ass dinner table,
and grits his teeth.
Jughead blinks rapidly, confused and dazed, when the leader yanks the bag off
of his head.
“Dad?” He mumbles when he sees him, looking relieved.
“Jug,” he breathes, glad he isn’t hurt.
“What’s happening, what’s going on?”
“Your father,” the Serpent cuts in, making Jughead jump, “Has racked up some
considerable debt that he has refused to pay off–”
“I said I’ll have the money by the end of the month–”
“Usually, he would just wind up dead somewhere,” the Serpent ignores him, “But
since he’s a valued member and I’m an understanding man, I’ve decided to let
him off with just a little punishment.”
Jughead, always levelheaded where FP is not, swallows, looks between the two of
them, “What kind of punishment?” he asks.
Here, the Serpent smiles, “Tell me, Jughead, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” FP seethes, stepping forward and slamming his hands
on the table.
The Serpent presses the gun to his son’s head, “Sit down, FP,” he warns.
FP sits down. If only because of how terrified his son looks.
“I asked you a question, boy,” he says to Jug, who flinches minutely, “Are
you?”
“Yeah,” he answers softly.
“Yeah what?”
Jughead stares at the floor, “I’m a virgin.”
The Serpent smiles that disgusting smile again, puts a reassuring hand on
Jughead’s shoulder. “I’m happy to hear that,” he says cheerfully, “I think this
is suitable punishment, don’t you think, FP? Your pretty son’s virginity to
clear up your debt?”
“Fuck you,” he growls, “Get your filthy hands off of him or I’ll–”
“Or you’ll what? Kill me?” He asks mockingly, “If you try, your son will be
dead before you can even stand up.”
He doesn’t miss the way Jughead’s breath catches at that, and runs a falsely
sweet hand through his hair. Jughead flinches again, more noticeable this time.
FP feels his heart sink.
“Dad?” Jughead asks when the leader drags a big hand up his thigh, voice rising
in panic.
“It’s okay, Jug,” he makes himself say, “It’ll be okay.”
“Yeah, Jug,” the Serpent mocks, “It’ll be okay. I’ll make this good for you. I
always do love virgins.”
Jughead shoots FP a panicked look, like he’s one wrong word away from crying,
and FP has to look away.
The Serpent tuts, “You have to watch, Jones. That’s part of the punishment.”
God, FP thinks.
“You sick fuck,” he says, but forces his eyes forwards all the same.
The Serpent just shrugs, looking pleased with himself, and pushes Jughead
towards the table, bends him over and presses down on his bound hands, holding
them firm in the middle of his back.
“If you’re good,” he says softly, “Maybe I’ll untie you, make you a little more
comfortable. Would you like that?”
FP knows that Jughead, for all his pride, know when it’s best to play along.
Jughead nods, stilted. The Serpent grins.
“I like him,” he says to FP. Jughead flinches horribly when the Serpent runs a
hand down his back.
“Relax, baby,” the Serpent murmurs, pressing himself against the boy, hips
flush against his ass, “I’ll take care of you.”
Jughead lets out a sound, something between a whimper and a sob, when the
Serpent reaches around his hips, unzips his pants and drags them down. FP
watches with fury in his veins as the Serpent palms his son through his boxers,
grinning against the back of his neck when Jughead jerks against him.
“You like that, boy?” he says, rolling his hips against his. Jughead squeezes
his eyes shut, shakes his head. “Don’t be embarrassed, I know what it’s like to
be a teenager. Think of it as me helping you let off some steam. Having FP here
as a parent oughta make you stressed as hell, huh?”
FP grits his teeth against the barb, but doesn’t say anything else, nothing
that could make this any worse than it is. Maybe he’ll just jerk him off, he
thinks hopefully, and leave it at that, leave his boy alone to do the rest in
his own time with someone he loves instead of here, on a dining room table
that’s probably worth more than their entire trailer.
He doesn’t leave it at that.
FP has to watch as he drags his son’s boxers down, pulls those tight pants down
until they hang loosely around one thin ankle, works his cock slowly,
methodically, kisses at his clothes shoulders and back like a real lover, like
he cares enough to take his time. Jughead, for his part, takes it. Bites back
whatever sounds he might make, stays quiet like a silent protest. FP wants to
cry for him. He’s never been so proud of him.
“FP,” the Serpent says suddenly, breaking the silence, “Tell your son to open
his mouth, get my fingers wet.”
Jughead makes this high, scared noise.
“Fuck you,” FP growls.
The Serpent just raises an apathetic eyebrow, “You can either tell him or I can
finger him open dry. I don’t have any lube with me, and I’m not getting them
wet myself.”
FP feels his nails digging into his palms where they’re balled up into fists,
“Jug,” he says quietly, “Get—get his fingers wet, okay? It’ll make it easier.”
Jughead looks at him, something afraid but still so trusting that FP hates
himself, and lets the Serpents fingers slide into his mouth. The Serpent
laughs, “There we go,” and shoves them deeper, deep enough that Jughead chokes,
reflexive tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.
“Get ‘em nice and wet, just like that—god, I’d love to have this mouth on my
cock someday.”
Jughead gasps for breath when the Serpent pulls his fingers out, coughing and
resting his forehead on the dark wood. His breath catches when the Serpent
pokes a finger against his hole.
“Relax,” FP says, surprising all of them, “It’ll hurt less if you relax, okay?
It’ll be over quicker.”
Jughead nods, and the Serpent laughs, “I don’t know about quicker,” he says,
working a finger inside him, “I’ll be taking my money’s worth. Shit, you’re
tight, kid. Tight and new.”
He works in a second finger, pausing whenever Jughead makes any sounds of
discomfort, pushing his shirt and jacket up to rub his back. “It’s okay,
sugar,” he comforts, the fake pet name and gentle treatment making Jughead
flush in either embarrassment or shame; probably both, FP thinks. He’s so
fucking sorry.
He’s so so fucking sorry, he thinks as Jughead gasps, jerking around the third
finger inside him. The Serpent grins.
“Right there?” he asks, pressing up against the boy’s prostate again; Jughead
chokes out a surprised moan, like he had no idea his body could feel like this.
He probably didn’t, FP thinks. His boy had never been one for sex and girls or
boys or anything FP had been crazy about when he was his age. His boy has
always been a little different, smart, good, never deserving of anything like
this. He wishes he could tell him all that, but he can’t, not now, and anything
he says after this won’t matter at all; there’s nothing he can do to take this
back.
“O-Oh,” Jughead gasps, “What—?”
The Serpent laughs, “God, I love virgins. You never knew you could feel this
good, did you? I’ll make you feel even better, baby, don’t worry your pretty
little head.”
He reaches for Jughead’s beanie, then; FP can see his son about to panic, the
way his shoulders tense, and says, “Wait,” before he thinks about it,
“Don’t—just, leave the beanie, okay? He doesn’t like to take it off.”
The Serpent snorts a little, like his son’s quirks are a joke, but draws his
hand back anyways. FP sees Jughead sag in relief.
The Serpent pulls his fingers out a flips Jughead onto his back, patting his
chest in mock-apology when he hits his head against the wood.
To FP, he says, “Tell him to spread his legs.”
This time, he doesn’t think to try to and disobey, “Juggie,” he says quietly,
“Could you—could you spread your legs for me?”
Jughead does, staring at the ceiling like he wishes it could take him away, and
FP feels some kind of sick thrill race through him at the sight. He hates
himself.
“Good boy,” the Serpent says, and steps forwards to run his hands
appreciatively up Jughead’s skinny thighs and grip his pale hips.
Slowly, his eyes trained on FP, he pushes in, holding Jughead firm against the
table as his body jerks in protest. He breaks the eye contact when Jughead
gasps out a small, “W-Wait, wait, stop,” and bends down to force a sloppy, hard
kiss to his lips, pushing the rest of the way in anyways.
“Shit,” he breathes once he bottoms out, giving Jughead a merciful moment to
adjust to the new sensations, “Your son is so fucking tight, and he makes the—”
he pulls out, gives Jughead time to take a breath before he thrusts back
inhard, forcing a moan from his mouth, “—cutest noises. I’m surprised you
haven’t sampled the goods yourself, FP—if I had this kid in my house everyday I
would’ve fucked him long before now.”
FP bites back a retort about how not everyone likes fucking fifteen-year-olds,
because Jughead is making these high little noises, eyes shut tight like he
hates what’s happening but can’t help it, back bent in a perfect arch.
The Serpent hooks his hands behind Jughead’s knees and pushes them to his
chest, practically bending him in half. Baring him to the world—to FP, at
least. He flushes deeper, trying to jerk out of his grasp, but only succeeds in
pushing himself further into the next thrust. The fucking sounds he keeps
making are going straight to FP’s groin.
“I bet your dad wishes he were the one fucking you,” the Serpent says, voice
honey-sweet and cruel, “Wishes he were the one buried in your tight little ass.
He talks about you all the time, you know that? Says you’re so smart, the next
James Patterson, how you’retoo good for all this, but I think he just wanted
you all to himself. Knew that if you showed your pretty face around here, you’d
be bent over someone’s lap in a second,fuck,” he pulls out, flips Jughead back
onto his stomach and shoves him into the table, “Ain’t that right, FP?”
“Fuck you,” he says, a broken record, hating the Serpent and hating himself
more, pressing his legs together to hide the disgusting tent in his jeans.
The Serpent sees anyways, and laughs, “I amright. I’m sorry about taking this
from you, I really am, he feels amazing. I would ask him to suck you off, but
this is your punishment, so you’ll have to wait until you get home.”
Underneath him, Jughead sobs, and that—that’s what finally pushes the sick fuck
over the edge. He gets a hand on Jughead’s dick, only has to pump as few times
before Jug is coming, too, slumping against the table.
The Serpent takes a few deeps breaths, and pushes himself up. Jughead winces as
he pulls out, come staining the insides of his thighs. Any gross arousal FP was
possibly feeling is gone.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Jughead,” the Serpent says, zipping his pants
up and patting Jug’s shoulder when he looks away, “Be sure to get me the money
on time next time,” he says to FP, “I know who I’ll be visiting if you don’t.”
And then he’s gone, strolling out the door like he just made a business deal
instead of raping a fifteen-year-old.
FP is at Jughead’s side before the door swings shut, unbinding his wrists with
shaking hands. He helps his son pull his boxers and pants back up, murmuring
about how he can clean up at home. Jughead’s face is carefully blank. FP
pretends not to notice the tears on his cheeks or the way his whole frame seems
to shake. His son won’t look at him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, helping his son stand, holding him tight, “I’m sorry.”
Jughead just shakes.
 
End Notes
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