As summer rolls around, Jughead and Archie have settled into a comfortable groove with one another. Archie does his thing, working out and patrolling the streets of New York by day and by night Jughead supplies the party scene with steady drinks. They spend most evenings, before Jughead leaves for work, passing a joint or a bong between them and every Saturday, Archie takes his claimed bar stool at the Whyte Wyrm where Jughead keeps them coming all night long.
"That chick is totally checking you out," Archie nods, silently gesturing to a tall red headed girl at the other end of the bar.
Jughead glances over his shoulder, taking in the way her cherry red dress plunges nearly to her belly button, showing off an impressive amount of cleavage.
"I'm good," he shakes his head.
"You're wha- Dude, she wants to ride your dick," he groans, biting at his lower lip as he dry humps the air in his seat.
Jughead laughs. "Yea, me and every other desperate guy in this place."
"So you're desperate," Archie perks up.
"I'm not- ah shit, no! Fuck," he hisses as the red head approaches upon Archie's signal.
"Hey handsome," she purrs, running her fingers along Archie's chest.
"Hey," he grins. "You want a drink? My buddy's the bartender here."
The red head eyes Jughead, her brow raising suggestively, "I'll take a panty dropper."
Jughead only nods, quickly shifting his attention to making her drink. It's not that he finds her unattractive. She's pretty enough. Big boobs, long legs, plump lips that would wrap nicely around his-
"Get a hold of yourself Jones," he mutters under his breath as he pours her drink from the shaker into a glass.
It's that she is attractive that makes her undesirable. He's worked in the bar scene long enough to know exactly the kind of girl she is and that's just not what he's looking for.
"So your friend tells me you're single," she purrs as he slides her drink in front of her.
"I am," he nods, "Though I find it can be straining on my kids when I bring home too many non-potential mommies."
The red head's eyes go wide, "ki- You uh, kids huh? That's sweet." With a forced smile and an elongated sip of her drink, she takes off into the crowd.
"Kids," Archie scoffs. "Come on man. That was a sealed deal."
"I'm not interested," he shrugs as he cracks open a beer and hands it to a waiting customer. "What's the big deal?"
"What's the big deal," he huffs. "Dude I've known you for like six months and you've never even brought a girl home."
"I'm not interested in a random fuck. Sue me," he scoffs before moving to the other end of the bar where he had been waived down.
The following week, Jughead shuffles through the door at 5:00am, utterly exhausted after an eight hour shift topped off with another two and half hours of regular clean up and monthly inventory. As he swings open the door, jiggling his key loose from the lock, he's alerted to the sound of Archie shuffling around in the kitchen, up and ready to hit the gym. Typically, Archie has already left by now, but he sleeps in on occasion.
"Hey Arch," he calls as he walks into the kitchen. "There was- who the hell are you?" Stopping dead in his tracks, he locks eyes with a gorgeous blonde, dressed in what are probably the tightest leggings he's ever seen and a teeny tiny sports bra.
"I could say the same," she scoffs, raising a brow before turning to fill up the water bottle in her hand.
"I uh, I- Jughead. I'm Jughead," he stammers, earning a cheeky grin as she screws the cap on her water.
"Jughead huh," she smirks. "I'm Betty."
Before he has a chance to further embarrass himself, she's out the door with a wink of one of her sparkling green eyes.
"Fuck," he breathes, slowly backing his way into his room. He spends the entirety of the time it takes to get from the kitchen, to the shower, and into bed wondering who Betty could possibly be. There is absolutely no way he has ever seen her before, he would have remembered that for certain. He's also never seen Archie hook up with a blonde. A couple of red heads, sure, and one girl with pink hair, but Archie has a type and that type is brunette and slutty. Betty is neither of those things, and she'd seemed far too comfortable to be a random one night stand. With a sigh, Jughead forces himself to forget about her and sleeps like the dead for the rest of the day.
Around 2:00 pm, Jughead gets up, shuffling lazily to the kitchen in his boxers. He heads straight for the fridge, chugging orange juice from the carton before sensing a set of eyes on him. There, in the living room, sits Betty, her legs tucked beneath her on the couch, looking like a god damn dream in her strappy white summer dress as her eyes rake over his near naked frame. Choking just slightly, Jughead wipes the dribble of orange juice from his chin and quickly replaces the carton before disappearing back into his room.
A few minutes later, Jughead reemerges, now wearing a pair of pants and a t-shirt, to sit down at the other end of the couch. He props his feet up on the coffee table and rests his bong in his lap, taking a few hits as he tries to catch up with whatever it is that Betty seems to be watching.
"So you're Archie's roommate," she concludes.
Jughead nods, blowing a lungful of smoke into the air as he catches Betty's eyes on him. He watches intently as if in slow motion as Betty gets up from the couch to gently knock his feet from the coffee table. He swallows hard as she kneels between his thighs, her fingers curling around the neck of his bong as she eyes the lighter in his hand. It takes a few seconds for his lust hazed brain to realize she wants him to light it, and he fumbles with the lighter before doing just that. He can't take his eyes off her, knelt down so pretty at his feet as she expertly clears the bong. She holds it as she sits back on her heels, her hands coming to rest high on his thighs as she rises. She looks absolutely sinful, smoke rolling out over her pretty pink lips as she parts them just slightly. His stomach swirls with arousal as she takes his lips, her tongue gliding along his top teeth before she nips at his bottom lip, tugging it gently, then she simply walks away.
He sits there for what feels like forever, entirely dumbfounded by the sheer desire building in his loins. He wonders momentarily if he bought a bad batch, maybe just got too fucked up before bed and this is some sort of crazy realistic wet dream. Chancing a look over his shoulder, he catches Betty in the doorframe of his room, her index finger beckoning him to follow as she disappears inside. He scrambles to his feet, his bong left forgotten on the coffee table as he makes a mad dash for his bedroom. His heart hammers in his chest as he closes the door, locking it for good measure before catching sight of the blonde beauty seated at the edge of his bed. His feet feel like lead as he approaches her, her finger hooking into his belt loop to tug him nearer. He stands there, between her legs, his cock twitching to life behind his zipper as her hands find their way under his shirt. Her fingernails drag across his skin, forcing his abdomen to shiver as she goes for the button on his jeans. With glazed eyes, he watches her pull him free, marveling at his hardened length with a smirk on her lips. Before he can even gather what's happening, she sucks him between her lips, her head bobbing back and forth as she takes everything he has to offer, right down to the base.
"Oh fuck," he groans, his hand finding its way into her silky golden tresses.
With his grip in her hair, he guides her pace, his hips thrusting as he fucks her face. Her mouth is hot and wet, and whatever her tongue is doing has him teetering on the edge. His groin tightens, threatening to snap like a rubber band. As he nears the point of no return, it's abruptly halted with Betty's slow shuffle backwards onto the bed. He whines with the loss of contact, his eyes snapping open in time to watch Betty ruck her dress up around her waist. He's almost certain he's drooling as he watches her shimmy her panties down her thighs, chucking them to land somewhere in his room before she spreads herself wide, presenting her glistening folds in all their glory for his eyes and his eyes alone. With a guttural groan, more akin to a primal growl, Jughead crawls over her, her hand gripping his cock to guide him to her entrance. With a singular thrust, he forces his length inside, earning a tiny squeak of a moan as her nails dig into his back. He fucks into her at a punishing rate, desperate to find release in his blonde temptress. Every breathy moan against his ear has him inching closer and closer until he takes the plunge with her muttering of his name, her legs locking behind his back as he empties himself inside her.
Unable to hold his weight any longer, he eases himself from her core and rolls onto his back beside her.
"That was fun," she grins, promptly rising from his bed, straightening out her dress and disappearing into the living room with nothing more than a kiss to his cheek.
Jughead chuckles lazily, hardly able to believe what's just happened. He still has no idea who she is or what she's doing here, but at the moment he couldn't care less. Sleepy and heavy from the combination of good sex and good weed, it doesn't take long for him to doze off into an afternoon nap.
With the buzzing of his emergency alarm, Jughead rolls out of bed to swipe it away on his phone. It's almost 5:30 pm which means he has exactly an hour to get himself together and walk through the doors of the Wyrm. For the second time today, he sleepily makes his way to the kitchen. He pauses, reaching for the coffee pot as he takes in the sight of Archie chatting comfortably with Betty who is sat on the counter beside where he's mixing a protein shake.
"Hey, you're up," Archie beams. "Betty this is my roommate, Jughead. Jug this is my sister, Betty."
Jughead proceeds to choke on his sip of coffee, coughing as he eyes Betty, who is clearly holding back a grin.
"I meant to tell you she's staying here for the summer," Archie says apologetically. "That cool?"
Jughead only nods, unable to find his words with the shock of what he's done. He narrowly recovers, clearing his throat and taking another sip of his coffee before going quickly back to his room.
"Don't mind him," Archie chuckles. "He takes a little getting used to."
"I'm sure we'll get along just fine," she smiles.
Mere moments after Archie leaves for his evening run, Betty slips silently into Jughead's room. He's nowhere to be found, but the sound of running water alerts her to his whereabouts. She takes a moment to peruse his things, smiling at the very well read copy of the Catcher in the Rye that's laid face down on his desk. She stands outside his partially open bathroom door, just listening to the rush of the water before stepping inside. She makes quick work of tugging her dress over her head, blushing at the fact that her panties are still somewhere in Jughead's room before silently approaching the shower. She stands there a moment, tugging her lower lip between her teeth in contemplation before joining him in the shower.
"You can't be in here," he startles, wiping water from his eyes as he stares at her in shock.
"Can't I," she challenges, taking a step closer to walk her fingers along his naked chest.
"You're Archie's sister," he argues, grabbing her wrist and holding it just out of reach. "I'm pretty sure this breaks every bro code there is."
"Do you want me to go? Because it doesn't really look like you do," she giggles, glancing down at his rising erection.
"You're fucking naked, of course I'm hard," he groans.
With a devilish smirk on her lips, she grabs hold of his hardened member, earning a chesty grunt as she strokes him from base to tip.
"Fuck. No. Bad girl," he grits, prying her hand from his cock.
"I can be a bad girl if you want me to be," she purrs glancing over her shoulder as she turns to wiggle her naked backside in front of him. "I've been naughty Juggy. Are you going to spank me?"
With a low growl in frustration he give her a light slap to her right ass cheek.
"I think I've been naughtier than that," she pouts. "You fucked me so good Juggy and I let you cum inside my tight little-"
"Fuck," he cuts her off, spanking her hard and tugging her ass flush against his hard on. "You're a bad girl Betts," he growls against her ear.
Betty whimpers with the nip of his teeth to her pulse, forcing her ass hard against his straining cock. "I want to be bad for you Juggy. Spank me again."
With her pleading he delivers another hard slap to her ass, a pitchy moan escaping her lips as she rocks back into his erection. In a single thrust he forces himself inside her from behind, earning a breathless moan as she rocks back into his every thrust.
"Oh, harder," she begs, "fuck me harder!"
Upon her request he picks up the pace, earning a yelp as his open palm again makes contact with the round of her ass.
"So fucking bad," he chokes out, his brow tugging together as their wet skin slaps loudly together. "Fuck! Say my name."
"Oh Juggy," she cries. "Yes! Oh, fuck me Jughead!"
"Such a good fucking girl," he praises, growling against her ear as he drapes his weight over her back. Releasing one of his hands from its tight hold on her hip, he slips it around her front, rubbing tight circles against her swollen bud.
"Oh Juggy," she cries out, a near scream as her legs begin to shake. Her walls tighten, fluttering and gripping his tortured cock until they're both a quivering panting mess. She cries out in a silent scream as her body quakes, drawing his release to forcefully coat her insides as he uses what little strength he has left to keep her from collapsing to the shower floor.
"I am, so fucked," he pants between breaths, the both of them chuckling lazily before he slips from her core. They take turns washing, eyeing each other curiously before toweling off and heading back out into his room.
"Hey Jug," Betty starts as she tugs her dress back over head. "Do you have any more weed?"
"Do I have any more weed," he laughs before pulling out the top drawer of his dresser. Inside sits a couple off glass pipes, a few different brands of rolling papers, a stash of lighters and grinders, all surrounding multiple full mason jars labeled by strain.
"Damn," she laughs, lifting out jars one by one to read their labels.
"Help yourself," he tells her as he pulls on a pair of distressed black jeans.
Betty offers an appreciative grin, deciding on one of the prerolls he has tucked in the back before bouncing onto his bed. As she lights the joint, pulling a few long drags, she settles back against his pillows. She watches him intently as he dresses, pulling on a tight black tee that shows off his lean muscular build and dousing himself with both deodorant and cologne.
"Where do you work," she questions, recalling Archie's earlier mention that Jughead works at night so she needs to keep quiet during the day.
"The Whyte Wyrm," he replies, earning a brow raise as he makes his way to the bed. "It's a night club, I'm a bartender." With a shy smile he plucks the joint from her fingers, taking a seat beside her to take his hit.
"Ah," she nods, "this shirt must get you an awful lot of tips."
Jughead laughs, blowing smoke into the air as she crawls into his lap, her legs straddled either side his hips.
"I guess," he shrugs.
"Oh please," she rolls her eyes, "you're hot and you know it."
With a smirk on his lips, he draws a lungful of smoke and shotguns it into her willing mouth with a dirty kiss. Betty blushes just slightly as they part before releasing her held breath. He captures her lips once more, just a quick peck, his hand skimming up her thigh to toy with the hem of her dress then he brings the joint to her lips. They take one more hit each, Jughead stubbing it out in the ashtray on his nightstand to kiss her more thoroughly. Their tongues slip together, the smooth sensation of their shared high bringing a deep sense of connection between them. Her lips feel like they were made just for him, for the sole purpose of forming to his and his alone. As they part, chests heaving and skin abuzz with desire, their foreheads come to rest together.
"I have to go," he breathes, earning a pitiful pout he can't help but chuckle at. With a final peck to her lips, he hoists her up from his lap and sets her gently on the bed before getting up to find his boots. "You can come by later if you want."
"I can't," she says with a shake of her head, earning a look of confusion from Jughead. "I don't turn eighteen until the end of August."
Jughead's eyes go wide. "Shit," he scolds himself. "You're only seventeen? Fuck Betty. This can't happen again."
"Why," she scoffs, "it's not like it wasn't consensual."
"I have to go," he grits, raking his hands back in his hair, looking at her with confliction before swiping his keys from his desk and darting out of his room.
The entire way to work, Jughead tries to cope with what he's done. It was bad enough that he slept with her in the first place, but he just had to go and do it again. He can't for the life of him figure out what the hell has gotten into him. He doesn't do shit like this, and for good reason. Quick fucks always lead to trouble and he's just thoroughly doused himself in shit.