Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10839096.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      FP_Jones_II/Jughead_Jones
  Character:
      FP_Jones_II, Jughead_Jones
  Additional Tags:
      Semi_Canon-Compliant, Incest, Fingering, Anal_Sex, PWP, porn_without
      plot/plot_what_plot, Daddy_Kink_(minor)
  Collections:
      Riverdale_Kinkmeme
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-06 Words: 1900
****** say goodbye where the power lines crash ******
by problematic_pleasures
Summary
     FP is going away for a long time; he and Jughead make their visit
     count.
Notes
     written for this_kink_meme_prompt! this is pretty much nothing but
     dirty-bad-wrong porn, unrepentant in its fucked up nature, as the
     stuff i write usually is.
     hope you enjoy!
“Hey, c’mon, can’t I see my fuckin’ kid?”
Jughead stands silently off to the side as his dad badgers the officer.
“No visitors.”
FP bristles behind the rusted bars. “You let Clifford Blossom in here, why the
hell can’t I have a little time with my kid?”
Jughead tucks the words away, as a reminder to ask his dad about them later.
The officer—Jughead doesn’t know his name, doesn’t care to—pauses. “You wanna
get in there, kid?” He asks, and Jughead nods in reply. The officer sighs.
“Fine, fine.”
He tugs the keys that dangle from his waist and gestures Jughead closer. He
unlocks the cell door and Jughead hurries past him.
“Some privacy?” FP snarls when the door hangs open and the officer hangs
around.
“I don’t think so.”
“Lock the door if you’re so fuckin’ worried, I’m not going anywhere. Just want
some time with my kid.”
The officer hesitates and his eyes flick to Jughead.
“Please?” Jughead murmurs without quite meeting the heavy stare.
The officer rolls his eyes. “Alright. Holler when you’re done.” He tucks the
keys away after shutting the cell door again. “No promises that you’re gonna be
alone the whole time,” he adds, knowingly.
FP sneers. “Fuck off.”
 
Once they’re alone, FP sighs. “What’re you doin’ here, Jug?”
“I needed to see you.”
“Told you to stay away.”
Jughead cracks a hysteric laugh. “Are you kidding me? I’m supposed to just let
you rot in here, when I know you’re innocent?”
“You don’t know shit, son.”
Jughead storms up to where his dad sits, raises his hand as though to slap but
ends up combing through his own hair instead. He lets out a keening, frustrated
noise. “You can’t do this.”
“You don’t understand, Jug. Let it go.” FP looks away and shakes his head. “You
should go.”
Jughead shuffles closer. He finally stops anxiously tugging at his hair and
reaches for his dad instead. He lays his hands on his dad’s shoulders and
squeezes. “Don’t do this,” he begs quietly.
“S’too late.”
“No,” Jughead replies, sharp. “No, it’s not! Mary could help you, we can get
you a lawyer, we could—?”
FP takes his son by the wrists and holds him still. “Jughead, you got to let
this go.” He strokes his calloused thumbs over Jughead’s knuckles. “You gotta
trust me, okay?”
Jughead tries to swallow the lump rising in his throat but fails. He tries to
blink back the tears but fails, and then FP is reaching up and cupping his
face. FP wipes at the tear tracks and murmurs soft reassurances that Jughead
can’t even hear over the roaring in his ears.
“Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry.” FP speaks low and soothing but it does nothing to
quell Jughead’s hiccupping sobs.
“I can’t lose you, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Fred’ll take care of you. It’ll be alright.” FP pulls Jughead closer, so he
can press their foreheads together. “Archie, you still got Archie. N’Betty, she
seems nice, huh, Jug?”
Jughead shakes his head. His grip tightens and pulls at his dad’s grimy white
t-shirt. “No, no, no.” He shakes his head until FP’s grip is firm enough to
stop him, hold him still.
“It’s gonna be okay, baby.”
Jughead doesn’t reply except for wet and breathless whimpers.
Eventually, with a cursory glance around, FP sighs. He lets his hands drop from
his son’s face, to his waist; he pulls Jughead closer until his son climbs
obediently into his lap. FP wraps his arms around Jughead in a hug.
“Dad,” Jug starts quietly. His voice is still wet and his tears haven’t
subsided, but he’s shaking less. “Dad, can…”
FP waits.
When Jughead finally looks up, he’s pouting and red in the face. He’s a twisted
mix between overwrought with upset and overwhelmed with embarrassment. “Don’t
make me say it.” He clears his throat awkwardly.
FP’s eyes widen in surprise. “We can’t, not here.”
“If we don’t do it now then—what if we never can?” Jughead’s expression grows
more and more sour. “I don’t—one last time. Please.”
FP doesn’t even bother to keep fighting it. He brings a hand to hold his son’s
chin and forces Jughead to look at him. “Whatever you want,” he agrees. “Did
you bring anything?”
Jughead’s blush worsens.
FP can’t help but grin. “That’s what you were hopin’ for the whole time, huh?
Hopin’ I’d—?”
“Just, shut up. Shut up,” Jughead snaps a he reaches into his back pocket.
“Shut up and get on with it already.” He holds the tube of slick out for his
father to take.
FP grabs the lube but pauses. “Anyone could walk in at any time.”
“If you don’t want to, then I can go.”
FP narrows his eyes. “I never said that.” He sets the lube beside him and
starts to push at his son’s jeans. “C’mon, help me out here. Get ‘em off enough
for me to touch you, huh?”
Jughead goes up on his knees and pushes his pants down in a rush. He pushes
until his ass is exposed, thighs trapped by the tight fabric of the denim,
until FP can touch him properly.
“That’s it,” FP coos, “that’s good.” He takes a moment to slick up two fingers
before skirting his touch across Jughead’s ass. “You ready?”
Jughead nods, he arches his back to press into FP’s touch.
FP uses one hand to grip one of Jughead’s cheeks, pull it to expose his hole.
Then he presses a single finger in without pause, drinking in Jughead’s
startled gasps. “Good?” FP asks as he kisses along Jughead’s jawline. He stops
to nip at his son’s earlobe, suckling on the skin and tearing more desperate
sounds from Jughead’s lips.
“Please, do it, c’mon.” Jughead clenches around the single finger and sighs.
“Please, dad, c’mon.”
“Okay, baby, okay, I’m going.” He draws his finger out and returns with two.
Again, he slides in without stopping. He doesn’t stay still once his fingers
are inside—instead he starts to thrust hard and fast.
Jughead keens and bites his lower lip to stifle the sound.
“Gonna miss your noises,” FP tells him. He presses in deeper so he can tease
his son’s prostate; his touch grazes it just enough to startle Jughead every
time, never enough to push him over the edge. “Gonna miss your ass, sweet
little voice, gonna miss you, baby.”
“Dad, dad, c’mon, I’m ready.” Jughead reaches back with a shaking hand and
shoves at FP’s fingers.
“You bring a condom?” When Jughead shakes his head, FP laughs. “Fuck, kid.”
Despite that, FP lets his fingers slip from his son’s body. Before he can ask,
Jughead reaches between them and undoes his dad’s button and zipper. He pushes
at the boxers to expose his dad’s cock and strokes it once, twice, too fast and
too loose before moving closer.
“I’m ready, dad, do it.”
FP waits long enough to get his cock wet with lube, before guiding his son by
the hips. Jughead starts to sink, lowering himself slowly, taking FP’s dick
inch by inch. “You look so good takin’ it, baby, always do.”
Jughead exhales shakily as he bottoms out. “Dad,” he whines. His hands are
still tight on FP’s shoulders and he presses his face against his dad’s,
desperate for the closeness and intimacy. “Dad, please.”
FP rolls his hips. One hand is slipping off Jughead’s hips because of lube, the
other is holding hard enough to leave fingerprint-shaped marks behind. “Fuck,
Jug, fuck.”
“Dad,” Jughead whimpers again, and FP finally looks at his son. His son’s eyes
are wide and wet and his lower lip trembles with a mix of pleasure and sadness.
“Shit, c’mere,” FP urges. He lets go of his bruising grip to gently take
Jughead by the chin again. He guides him in for a kiss, a series of soft kisses
that suck the air from the room. “M’right here, baby, I’m still here.”
Jughead shakes his head, though not hard enough to dislodge his dad’s grip.
Jughead shakes and trembles and closes his eyes tight.
“Look at me, Jug, look at me.”
Jughead does, his lips falling open in tight moans in the same moment.
“Love you, y’know that, right?”
The tears start to fall as Jughead tries to keep his eyes open.
“Love you so much, Jug, s’all gonna be okay, I promise.” FP kisses along the
column of his son’s neck, pauses to suck a deep red hickey just under the
collar of his shirt, then works his way back to Jughead’s lips.
“Dad, dad, dad,” Jughead whispers between kisses. His own hips are rolling to
meet FP’s every thrust, his own cock bouncing with the motions, smearing
precome across their shirts. “I’m close, dad, close.”
FP kisses his son as he curls a hand around Jughead’s dick. He strokes faster
than his thrusts and breathes reassuring words into his son’s mouth. “Right
here, Jug, m’ere for you. Can you come for me, baby?”
Jughead nods minutely.
“Let me hear you, just a little bit. Give me somethin’ to remember, huh?” FP
pulls back from smothering Jughead’s swollen lips in kisses to let his son
breathe.
Jughead obeys the command and stops holding back his moans, lets his body
loosen and relax and let go. He keens and moans and it echoes off the cement
walls of the cell. Rhythmic and wanton he gasps out—
“Dad, dad, dad!”
“One time, baby, let me hear it.” FP kisses the underside of his son’s jaw.
“C’mon.”
He doesn’t have to elaborate; Jughead knows perfectly well what he means.
“Daddy.”
FP groans. “That’s it, baby, Jug, so close.”
Jughead can’t stop now that he’s said it once. “Daddy, please!”
“Come for me, baby, do it.” FP kisses Jughead hard on the lips and licks into
his mouth. He sucks on his son’s tongue as Jughead whimpers through his orgasm.
His body goes tight and his cock pulses as he comes, spunk staining their
shirts. “Good boy, so good for daddy, huh?”
“Please,” Jughead gasps.
“Want me to come inside you? Gonna walk home that way?”
Jughead nods dazedly. “I need—!”
“I know what you need, Jug, I’ll give it to you, promise.”
FP kisses Jughead again, softer this time, and it’s as his son melts into his
touch that he comes. The gentle way Jughead relaxes against him, accepts his
kiss and his cock like it’s all he never needs; it tips FP over the edge and he
pushes up erratically as he comes. He bites Jughead’s bottom lip hard as his
orgasm fades, as he stays impossibly still to keep his come inside his son.
They both settle after that, breathing heavy.
“You should get cleaned up,” FP says quietly.
Jughead nods, but doesn’t move.
“It’s gonna be okay, Jug. I promise.”
Jughead shakes his head this time. “It’s fine.” He slips off his dad’s lap and
hurriedly redresses. The face he makes, uncomfortable but satisfied, tells FP
his son is going to be feeling this for a couple days. “It’ll be fine.”
FP tucks his own soft cock away and stands up. “It will,” he says, harsher. “I
swear, Jug, it’s gonna turn out just fine.” He leans down and kisses Jughead
once more. As they break apart, Jughead turns away.
Pressed tight up against the bars, Jughead calls out,
“Officer!”  
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