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tea-and-cardigans · 7 years

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Do You Notice Me - Bughead Canon AU Oneshot.

This is a one-shot fill for the @bughead-fanfic-wishlist submitted by the always lovely @raptorlily . I can only hope that I have done this prompt justice for you. I have not written Canon is so long it was strange to go back to it. But I cannot wait until new episodes with new canon springboards to launch off!!

Ao3 Link Here.

(Apologies for the Keep Reading cut for mobile users)

Canon AU - What if Jughead wasn't the one who initiated their first kiss? What if it were Betty? Write me a story exploring Betty's growing feelings for Juggie and her deciding what to do with those feelings. Bonus Consideration: she put herself out there and got rejected by Archie, and Jughead isn't exactly an open book. He's also her childhood friend, just like Archie. Perhaps the rewards outweigh the risks?

Do You Notice Me

Betty Cooper had a problem.

Jughead Jones.

He hadn’t started out as a problem. Quite the opposite to be exact but he had fast become one. Betty, after the disaster that was admitting her feelings for Archie had wanted something uncomplicated. She wasn’t looking for romance, or longing looks or fantasies about removing a certain crown shaped beanie and running her fingers through what she imagined were soft, dark waves.

No.

She wanted to solve a murder, find her sister, maybe reconnect with an old friend. Not… this.

She found herself watching him without meaning to. It was almost like she was seeing him again for the first time. They had been friends for so long it was almost like she had missed him growing up. But she was noticing him now.

But now instead of simply accepting that Jughead was a boy with a beanie she began to wonder what was underneath. Ever since she had known him he had worn that beanie, a security blanket of types. She knew what it was like to put up a barrier between yourself and the rest of the world.

That's what her pastel pink sweaters and perfectly curled pony tail was. Something that she presented to the rest of the world a careful concealment of a part of her that was becoming more and more dominant. As if the darkness that was now consuming the small town had taken her down with it.

She had started to notice him, really notice him, that night at Pop’s. After once again managing to subdue that darker, wilder part of herself in her confrontation with Cheryl she had made up with Veronica as they headed to Pop’s. She noted how different he looked her first time really seeing him since the summer break and he looked ‘older’. He was no longer that scrawny kid that they hung out with in Archie’s tree house sipping lemonade made by Mrs Andrews. He had grown up. She had smiled shyly at him when he hopped into the booth opposite her and he returned her smile with a subtle raise of his eyebrows as he stole a sip of her milkshake. Something that he had always done since they were kids. His eyes challenged her to stop him but she just leant back in her seat, allowing him to take what he wanted.

It became abundantly clear to everyone in that booth that night how enamoured Archie Andrews was with new girl Veronica Lodge. Betty knew that the pain that she felt now would lessen. Stepping back now she could see how her ‘crush’ on Archie, and it was just that, had been a long held childhood fantasy of hers. She had seen them as that power couple. The high school jock and the girl next door looked so good on paper. But in reality Archie had only eyes for Veronica.

The little looks that Jughead sent her did not go unnoticed by her. Small, shy smiles. Kind eyes. And for a brief and fleeting moment she found herself wishing that she was on the other side of the booth next to him, sharing their own private jokes together as they had when they were children. As they had before she went away for the summer.

“I can wait out here until your mom gets here.” Jughead said from behind her as they had stood out the front of Pop’s watching Archie and Veronica leave together. His hands were shoved in his jacket pockets as he glanced at her, kicking some stones at his feet. She thought about the expression on her mom’s face if she turned up to pick her up at Pop’s to find her with Jughead Jones. Alice had made no secret of her disdain for the Jones family as soon as Betty started hanging out with Jughead. She wondered which her mother would be more disapproving of, Jughead or Archie.

“It’s okay Juggie, she’ll be here soon.” He gave her a quick nod before he returned inside to the booth that they had been sitting at. She watched him pull out his laptop and begin to type, the waitress already putting down another cup of steaming hot coffee. A loud beep tore her away from her observations as her mom leaned over to the passenger side’s window telling her to hurry up and get in the car. She stole one more glance before she made her way to the old station wagon.

In reality she hadn’t expected him to say yes when she asked him to help her resurrect the Blue and Gold. He was right, writing for the school paper wasn’t really his scene. So she had batted her eyelashes and pouted her lips slightly. It wasn’t the first and it probably wouldn’t be the last time that she used this tactic on him. She knew by his heavy sigh and slumping of his shoulders that she had won and eagerly agreed to his conditions.

It felt somewhat familiar being the sleuthing duo of Riverdale High. It reminded her of the time the summer before last where Archie had gone off to football camp and the three musketeers had become a reluctant two. They spent their days at Pop’s Betty reading her book on one side of the booth while Jughead furiously typed on his laptop while Betty occasionally would try to steal a look. Jughead would quickly turn the screen away from her prying eyes not yet ready to share what he was working on. Betty would hmph and then skip to the counter to get them another round of milkshakes ignoring the voices in her head of Alice Cooper and Cheryl Blossom that she shoud make better choices if she wanted to succeed. Jughead never said anything.

She hadn’t expected him to say yes to finding Polly. She reasoned that it was because he was committed to finding out who killed Jason and Polly was a key part to the mystery. She had expected him to turn and run when she suggested that he came to breakfast so that she could get a good look at her mum’s checkbook. No-one voluntarily put themselves in the same room as her mother. But he had. Giving her a final pleading look as Alice Cooper led him from the breakfast table, his eyes lingering on the cooked breakfast he was leaving behind.

He had offered to travel with her to see Polly. She could have gone on her own, even Archie offered to go with her and she had turned him away. The Betty of a few weeks ago wouldn’t have even given Archie’s offer a second thought accepting immediately. Betty liked to think that she had changed since that night at the dance. She had grown up.

Her eyes continued to drift over to him during the bus ride to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. He stared out the window, his eyes flicking between the trees and buildings as they passed them. Her heart stopped as they set foot off the bus and the building came into view. A home for wayward teens, it looked more like an insane asylum. She could feel the tears already beginning to well. Shutting her eyes to try and keep them at bay. She felt his hands on her shoulders turning him to face her. She opened her eyes and was met by the intensity of his own green ones.

“We are going to get her out of here Betts.” She nodded. His eyes narrowed waiting for her more convicted response.

“We are going to get her out.” She repeated as he gave her shoulders a final squeeze and Betty thought that maybe he was going to pull her into an embrace, before he let go. She took a deep sigh, straightened her shoulders and pulled her ponytail that much tighter as they stepped towards the building.

She needed to see him. After the events of the day before and her conversation with her parents she needed to talk to someone and where her mind would previously have thought of Kevin or Archie there was now a new name coming to mind Jughead. She waited until her mom and dad left the home for the register. Before she snuck out. She had texted him already asking to meet her at the Blue and Gold.

Her hand was shaking a little as she turned the handle and was relieved to see him already there. She was reminded of the way that he had tried to reach out to her and her sister at the Sister’s, held back by one of the porters. It had been an unpleasant car ride back to Riverdale to say the least. Betty sitting in the front passenger seat her mother stopping her from getting in the back of the car with him. A pointed look telling her not to test her any further and Betty knew that she would be wise to heed her mother’s warning.

“Betts.” He breathed out as he saw her and Betty paused briefly at the door before she shut it behind her. He was by her side by the time the door had shut his hand on her arm in what she took as a gesture of concern and nothing more.

“Jug, I’m sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.” She removed herself from his grip and sat up on one of the old desks.

Jughead followed her across the room, leaning against her perch. “I volunteered.” He reminded her. She looked down his hand was resting against the desk so close to her own hand. She thought about moving the last few inches to touch her fingers against his own to see if he would pull back. Whether he would look at her in confusion at her actions or jerk his hand away. She had been burned once this school year and was not so sure she was keen to be burned again.

“I shouldn’t have told her about Jason.” She pulled her hand to her lap removing it from temptation. Jughead jumped up to sit beside her on the desk. Eliminating the distance that she had just put between them.

“You needed to Betts. Otherwise you wouldn’t be any better than your parents. She deserved to know especially because -”

“Of the baby.” Betty whispered. She was still in shock that her sister was pregnant. That she was going to be an auntie. That new life growing inside her sister had already lost their father. She wouldn’t let her parents take away their mother as well.

“Yeah.”

“I asked my dad.” She looked up from her lap to meet his eyes. “About whether he killed Jason.”

“And?”

“He didn’t. But they’re crazy Juggie, both of them. And Polly, the way she was talking. She sounded crazy. Maybe I’m-”

“Hey.” His hand was on her shoulder, a soothing rubbing motion. Not unlike how he had back at the Sister’s. “All our parents are crazy.” A small smile across his lips brought a little comfort to her and she realised she was now staring at his lips.

It wasn’t the first time she had found herself in this position in the Blue and Gold office since they had started their investigation into the murder of Jason Blossom. She had imagined closing the distance between them as he leant over her shoulder watching her as she would carefully edit one of his articles or as they sat together on the old desk both looking at the ‘murder board’ as if there was something there that they were both missing. He would stare at the board and Betty would sneak glances at him as he pulled his bottom lip in concentration. Or occasionally twisted that one curl that always managed to find it’s way out of the confines of the gray woollen beanie on top of his head.

There was that voice in her head holding her back. Telling her that it was all in her head. Those gestures of comfort, those shy smiles, the private jokes, all of it was just her imagination. They were friends was it really something that she wanted to jeopardise just like she had her friendship with Archie because she couldn’t keep her emotions in check. She had been trying to analyse him. See if there was something there, whether he was feeling anything for her. She had run through his comment about her and Trevor’s date a million times.

‘You just called it a date.’ Was he jealous? Curious? Perhaps concerned that she was putting herself out there again after just having her heart stomped all over by their friend. He had said it so casually that she couldn’t read into it further. She looked for signs and yet Jughead Jones was a closed book that she desperately wanted to read.

“Juggie.” She whispered. Her hand moved to his arm and she felt him still slightly under her touch and she thought about pulling back, backing out completely. “Thank you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. She pulled herself back to examine his reaction as he turned to face her. His eyes searching hers his expression as always unreadable to her.

She leant in again, this time pressing her lips against his. They were warm and soft against her own. She heard his breath hitch as she moved her lips against his waiting for him to respond. She thought for a moment that she had messed up. She had altered another friendship through the complications of her own emotions. She went to pull back from the kiss, but his hand on the back of her head stopped her as he kept her in place as he finally began to return her kiss in earnest.

She sighed into the kiss as their mouths explored one another. This kiss was different to the one she had shared with Archie when they were still kids playing. Different to the one she had shared with Brad during her internship in Los Angeles at the carnival. It was as if every part of her body was on edge, every sense was heightened and she could only think of him. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she felt his hand moved from her head to her neck, his thumb brushing against her pulse point as her own hands moved from his arms to his jacket pulling him towards her so that he was closer to her as they both shifted on the desk. She pulled back smiling at him, her grin widening as she noticed that he shared her expression. Was this what her sister had felt when she had first kissed Jason? Before their families had torn them apart, when they were planning their secret get away to -

“The car!” She exclaimed her eyes widening in realisation as her mind tried to catch up to it’s own thought while still trapped in the feeling of her kiss with Jughead.

“And I thought we were having a moment here.” She met his eyes and thought that she could see a hint of disappointment.

“We were, we are, but Polly said that her and Jason had stashed a car on route 44. Maybe if we can find that car.”

“Then we can find some concrete evidence.”

“That Polly isn't crazy.” Her hands were either side if his face as she kissed his lips again. “To be continued?”

“Most definitely.” He replied taking her hand in hers as he pulled her from the desk as they left the Blue and Gold together.

Off to solve a murder, and maybe something more.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #canon au #mywork #raptorlily #prompt fill #betty cooper x jughead jones #bughead-fanfic-wishlist

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cooperjones2020 · 7 years

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To breathe the fire we was born in

Summary: Filling the prompt “Smut or rather smut with feelings where Jughead wants to have sex with Betty while they look at themselves in the mirror, but she's feeling insecure about watching herself. He persuades her to do it, because watching her come is the hottest thing he has ever seen and he wants her to see that too.” Also turned into fluff and domestic/vacation/future!bughead. Also Dom!Jug cause that’s just how I roll.

A/N: Soundtrack to this fic is (obviously, as you will see) Springsteen’s “Born to Run” album, specifically the A side, but really you should just listen to all of it.Title’s from “Backstreets” off that same album.

Word Count: 3,026

Rating: E (aka smutty smut smut below the jump)

ao3—>http://archiveofourown.org/works/11791893

It’s their last night in the little log cabin in the mountains. From her seat on the porch step, Betty watches as the watercolour sunset melts away, only to be replaced by a circus troupe of lightning bugs. She stretches out and crosses her legs, brown and bare under a loose dress, and leans back on her hands. Dried dirt falls off her toes in clouds of dust from where she’d tiptoed through the mud in search of cattail stalks and garlic mustard for their salad earlier.

The screen door behind her bangs shut and she tilts her head back to watch, upside down, as her boyfriend hands her a glass of wine and comes to sit beside her.

She shuffles closer to rest her head on his shoulder and slips her arm through his. The night air is still muggy, so the skin of his shoulder is damp where it comes out of the strap of his white tank top.

“I’m not ready to go home.”

“Me either.”

“Are you sure we have to go back?”

“I got no less than five texts from Archie yesterday about what a little monster Scout is being. I normally don’t get that many texts from him in a week.”

Betty laughs. “I got some from Veronica too. In retrospect, we probably shouldn’t have left a fifty pound sheepdog puppy with a guy who forgets to feed himself sometimes and a girl who thinks dogs should fit in purses so you can carry them on the subway.”

“Yeah well, you live and you learn. But that’s tomorrow’s problem.” Jughead turns and kisses Betty’s hair before resting his cheek on her head. “Tonight, the real world doesn’t exist. I have twelve more hours of having you all to myself.”

“Plus the two and half hours back to Riverdale and then three more home.”

“You’re sure we have to have lunch with your mother?”

“Stop it,” Betty nudges him with the elbow looped through his. “Mom’s really excited. And we haven’t been home since Polly’s wedding.”

“I know.” Jughead releases a long-suffering sigh. “I’m just not looking forward to more pointed comments about you busting your ass and your earning potential and the ‘instability of artistic careers.’ I know you’re basically supporting me and this relationship isn’t fifty fifty right now, but—”

“The book will sell, Jug.”

“Yeah. And maybe I’ll get lucky and there’ll be an email from my agent waiting for me.”

“Hey, we said no email-checking on this trip.”

“I’ll wait till we’re within the town limits. Then if there’s nothing, I’ll have at most five minutes to be disappointed before Alice Cooper commandeers all my brain cells.”

Betty smiles up at him, the corner of her lips curving down. “C’mere.”

Jughead tilts his head down toward her and she captures his lips in a kiss. Neither makes a move to deepen it, so it’s sweet, smouldering with the promise of things both past and to come. She sighs when she lets go and when she opens her eyes, Jughead’s are still closed, a dreamy smile on his face. More than ten years and, still, she feels that sweet ache in her chest whenever she looks at him. She lifts her glass and it catches the light, reflecting the facets of the new weight on her left hand.

“Now then, if this is to be our last night in Eden, I want you to dance with me.” Their cabin had come with a turntable and a collection of classic rock vinyls that had caused JB to text her a disturbingly long string of emojis when Betty sent her a photo a couple of days ago. When Jughead refilled their wine just now, he put on Springsteen’s “Born to Run” album, and so the music floats out the window on the evening breeze.

He opens his eyes and squints at her. “Only because it’s our last night.” Then he kisses her on the tip of the nose and pulls her to her feet.

After a minute or two of awkward shuffling, they find a rhythm, barefoot on the bare dirt. Her nails scratch at the nape of his neck and his thumb sweeps across the back of her hand where he holds it.

By the third track, Jughead gets into it, twirling her and dipping her with a skill that she knows he has, but that always surprises her when it emerges. He swallows her laugh in a kiss while she’s bent back, then he launches her forward, catching her against his chest and hugging her tight. Eventually, they settle into a gentle sway, her face in his neck and his arm wrapped around the small of her back, fingers brushing the space between her hip bone and her ribs.

Their mellow rocking lulls her into a trance so that she doesn’t even notice when the music stops. But Jughead breaks it with a husky whisper in her ear: “Have you thought any more about my idea?”

She rubs her cheek on his shoulder before looking up at him. “Yeah, but I’m just not sure about…um, about it.”

“Well, not to put any pressure on you, but we are running out of time.”

She murmurs, “Mhm.”

“And, you know, we’ve done much kinkier shit than this. I seem to recall a certain favourite Hitchcock blonde of mine in a leather get up in a hotel in San Francisco”

“I know, but it’s not that.”

“What is it then, baby?”

“It’s just…Mom’s not wrong when she says I’m working all the time. I can’t remember the last time I went to the gym and we’ve been eating so much take out lately. Some of my shorts are feeling a little snug.”

He pulls back and raises his eyebrows at her. “Really? That’s what you’re worried about, that your ass will look fat? I’ll have you know I stare at that ass every day and every day it just looks better and better.”

She sighs. That’s not what she means. “You may have a slightly biased opinion.”

“So? Plus,” he pauses to drop a kiss on her shoulder. “You don’t even have to see it. I want you to watch yourself, that means face front.”

It’s not exactly about her ass, but the morning after they’d arrived she had caught him looking back and forth between it, where she stood in her panties and one of his t shirts in the bathroom brushing her teeth, and the antique standing mirror in the corner of the bedroom. It’s an ostentatious thing. Ornate and clunky with carved supports and lions’ paws for feet.

She spit and came to stand in the doorway. “What are you looking at, Jug?”

He smiled at her sleepily from the bed. “You, beautiful.”

Betty rolled her eyes and jumped on the bed so she landed beside him on her stomach. “And?”

“I was just thinking of how handy this mirror here is going to be.”

“Yeah, what for?”

He turned dark eyes on her and his voice dropped an octave. “Fucking you while you watch.”

Betty felt all the blood rush to her face. “Jughead!”

“What? Doesn’t that sound hot? I can’t think of anything better. We can put on a show for all the ghosts that must haunt this place.”

“What kind of ghosts haunt vacation cabins in the Adirondacks?”

“The kind of repressed nineteenth century ones that lived here before it was a vacation cabin.”

“So you want to spook the spooks with our crazy sex life?”

“Exactly.”

She kissed him before bouncing back out of the bed. “I’ll think about it if you get up and brush your teeth. I want to go on that hike.”

He caught her around the waist and pulled her back. “But I want to stay in bed and ravish you until it’s dark again.”

“There’s one flaw in your plan. There’s no food up here.”

While he contemplated solutions to that problem, she escaped his grasp and thundered down the stairs, mind whirring with the visual he’d planted there.

He’s still slowly spinning them to the sonata of the bullfrogs and the crickets. She knows he can tell her resolve is wavering. Because she does want to. Anything he suggests in that tone and she’s a goner, molten heat lapping at her stomach.

“Come on, Betts”

“I don’t know, Juggie”

“I’ll do five things on your list.”

“You really want it?”

And she does trust him completely, trusts him to love her and to not see the extra ten pounds where they’ve settled on her hips. It’s her own gaze she’s afraid of.

Somehow, in the course of their dancing, he’s snuck a thigh between hers and he pulls her against him in just the right way. His voice is rough, scratchy.

“Think about it, Betty. You, naked in my lap riding me. Your tits bouncing—”

“My thighs jiggling.”

He pinches her hip before continuing. “The contrast of your skin again mine. Watching yourself fall apart. I love you. You coming is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I want you to know how glorious you are.”

With her back to the house, his eyes are lambent in the porch light. They hold the answers to all of her questions. And they hold the promise that’s sustained her since she was a teenager, frightened and angry but never again alone.

So, she nods against his neck and presses a kisses to his jawline. She feels the muscles move as he smiles and the burst of joy in her chest is like unlocking a door and stepping through to the sunlight. She breathes deeply, thankful in the knowledge that he’ll once again help her to conquer her fears.

Inside, Jughead breaks away from her to flip the record so “Born to Run” can chase them up the stairs. Betty extinguishes all the lights and they meet at the landing.

The stairs creak as they climb them, the old house protesting at the friskiness of its young, lovestruck inhabitants. Yellowed lace curtains flutter like handkerchiefs lifted in horror.

Jughead pauses to take her mouth in a kiss, his hands hurriedly unbuttoning her dress and sliding inside to brush against her breasts until her nipples pucker. Then he tugs her hand and her dress flows behind them in his haste.

The old lamps in the bedroom still have incandescent lightbulbs which—between that and the scarves arranged artfully over the top of them—will at least be more flattering than their more environmentally-friendly alternatives. Betty’s thankful for small mercies, and for the warm, yellow glow glancing off the pine walls and bathing the room in soft light and shadowed corners.

Jughead grabs the chair from its place beside the table and slides it over the uneven wooden floor boards until it’s a few feet in front of the mirror. Then he frowns at it and slides it back a little further. Betty stands in the doorway, bunching the material of her dress in her hands.

“Come here.” He pulls her to him so they’re standing in front of the chair, and hugs her back to his chest. His arms form a stripe of brown where they hug her pale stomach.

“Look at me, Betty.” Her eyes find his in the mirror. “I want you to let go and let me take care of you, okay?” She nods. “Good.” Then he slides one of her arms up so it’s behind his head and he kisses her so thoroughly the air whooshes all the way down her body and back up and she’s lightheaded.

He’s playing with her breasts, pinching and pulling and stroking, and she’s getting antsy, rubbing her ass against him. He releases her mouth with a scrape of his teeth against her bottom lip.

“Now look at yourself again. Look how pink and swollen your lips are. And look at your chest heaving and that pretty blush that spreads down. I wonder what I’d have to do to get it to reach your belly button.” He brushes her hair so it rests over her far shoulder and nips at her ear before kissing her neck. Betty has always hated her pale skin, how anyone can tell what she’s feeling by how she flushes so easily. Once, she’s pretty sure she blushed just cause someone looked at her funny. But when Jughead describes it, when she sees through his eyes, she feels beautiful.

Then his hands reach up and push her dress to the floor, his foot kicking it away so she’s standing in front of him, in front of the mirror, in only her days of the week underwear—it’s the wrong day too. She’s wearing her Thursday panties on a Sunday.

But his hand skims down the plane of her stomach and brushes against her and she loses her train of thought. He sucks a hickey onto the back of her neck as he touches her over the damp cotton.

“Are you wet for me?” He hits a spot that sends an electric current through her body and she gasps. “Yes.”

“Are you ready to take these off then?”

“Please.”

“Go on then.” And she does, bending over and then kicking them away while he slides off his own jeans and tank top. Then he pulls her back against him, all warm flesh and goosebumps. His cock nestles in the cleft of her ass and she fights the urge to roll her hips.

He uses one of his feet to slide hers farther apart, then reaches a hand back down. He dips a finger inside her then spreads the moisture around and strums her clit, before repeating the circuit.

“Do you need a warm-up?”

“N-no,” she manages to stutter out.

“Okay.” He lets go of her to sit on the chair, then pulls her back and guides her onto his lap.

“Jug?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Fuck me now.”

“You got it.” Then he spreads his knees so hers are hooked over his and she can see herself, so wet she glistens in the mirror.

“Lean up for a second.” She complies and feels him lining himself up.

When she sinks down, her eyes roll back in her head, this position stretching the muscles in a new way.

She makes a tentative circle with her hips.

“There you go, honey.” Jughead peppers kisses across her shoulder blades as she experiments with direction and pace until she finds a rhythm that hits her clit on every pass. He intertwines one hand with hers and hugs it against her, while the other continues to caress her breasts.

Her gaze flits around, from their hands to objects in the room. Whenever it lands on the mirror, he’s staring at her, his gaze focused on where their bodies join, on where he slips in and out of her. She knows it should be lewd, obscene. But god if it isn’t the hottest thing she’s ever seen.

After a few minutes of letting her be in charge, she can feel him tensing beneath her, can feel him itching to push them harder. So she leans back and lets her head fall onto his shoulder. She lets him take control of her and lets him free her from herself.

He scoots forward on the seat of the chair so he can brace his legs on the floor for better leverage. His hands move to her hips as he thrusts upward and pulls her down in time. She knows when he starts to lose control because his hips begin to stutter and he pulls back, slowing them down and wrapping one arm back around her stomach while the other moves to rub gentle circles on her clit.

She clenches her hands on the ropey muscles of his arm and squeezes her eyes shut as she feels her own orgasm rushing towards her.

“Are you close?” She nods with her head still on his shoulder. Then she feels him skim a hand up her back and cord his fingers through her hair. He tilts her head forward. “Open your eyes, Betty.” It takes a tremendous amount of effort, but she does and she meets his in the mirror. Her mouth falls open and she knows she’s panting, a high-pitched yelping noise that she can’t control.

His whisper in her ear sends shivers down her spine. “Look at yourself. This is what I see when I close my eyes at night. When I rub one out in the shower thinking of you. When I look at you, I remember this gorgeous, glazed look on your face and I know I put it there. Because you’re mine. You’re mine, Betty Cooper, forever and always.”

Then he sucks a kiss below her ear and she’s gone.

In the years they’ve been together, Jughead’s given her more orgasms than Rain Man could count. He’s given her fireworks and starbursts and glass shattering and earthquakes. Her favourite, though, is the wave the starts in the soles of her feet and rolls through her, curling everything from her toes up to hair, a slow contraction and release that leaves her breathless.

When she gets her breath back, Jughead’s forehead is pressed into her shoulder blade and she can feel his heavy breathing. She can also feel their hot come, where it’s begun to seep out and roll down her thigh.

He lifts her off and holds her steady while he stands, a move for which she feels an appreciation she can’t put into words at the moment. When she can stand on her own, she sneaks into the bathroom to pee and clean herself up.

When she comes back out, Jughead has collapsed onto the bed. She crawls toward him and snuggles up by his side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and plays with a strand of her hair as she strokes a foot up and down his calf.

“Maybe we should look into getting a cheval mirror.”

She feels more than hears his answering chuckle as it reverberates in his chest beneath her ear.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead smut #riverdale fanfiction #bughead #betty x jughead #betty cooper #jughead jones #dom!jug #one shot #springsteen #mine #bughead-fanfic-wishlist #writing this gave me a lot of feels #bughead prompts

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