
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11976231.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Riverdale_(TV_2017)
  Relationship:
      Betty_Cooper/FP_Jones_II, Betty_Cooper/Jughead_Jones_(mentioned), Alice
      Cooper/FP_Jones_II_(past)
  Character:
      Betty_Cooper, FP_Jones_II
  Additional Tags:
      Age_Differences, Handcuffs, Choking, Unhealthy_Coping_Mechanisms,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, FP_jones_is_a_bad_dad_who_does_Not
      try_his_best_but_at_least_he_feels_bad_about_it, Dark_Betty_Cooper
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-02 Words: 3532
****** all i've known is that there is an end ******
by OpportunisticHag
Summary
     In all honesty, when he had opened the door, he had expected some of
     the Serpents to drop by with a case of sympathy beer. Or maybe Fred,
     or even Archie, to ream him out for just how badly he had fucked
     things up this time. He was too busy wallowing in his self pity to
     even think about his son's poor girlfriend.
     Was she still his girlfriend? What's the protocol when your boyfriend
     heads to the middle of the country without a goodbye? Judging by the
     look on her face, the answer was not in her favor.
     _
     AU where Jughead ended up leaving for Toledo. (but FP was released
     because that's not how jail works @CW)
FP was home for exactly two hours after he was released before there was an
insistent knocking at his door.
In all honesty, when he had opened the door, he had expected some of the
Serpents to drop by with a case of sympathy beer. Or maybe Fred, or even
Archie, to ream him out for just how badly he had fucked things up this time.
He was too busy wallowing in his self pity to even think about his son's poor
girlfriend.
Was she still his girlfriend? What's the protocol when your boyfriend heads to
the middle of the country without a goodbye? Judging by the look on her face,
the answer was not in her favor.
Another notch for ruining another bright-eyed Smith girl.
Cooper, you sad fuck.
“Can I talk to you?” Betty's voice was strong, but everything else about her
body language betrayed her. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her middle,
trying their best to fend off the encroaching winter chill. Her head bowed, she
was making perfect eye contact with his knees as her hair whipped around her
face.
“Uh. Yeah?”
He waited patiently for her to say whatever she needed to say (“I left some
stuff here.” “Do you think he’ll miss me?” “I hate you I hate you I hate you.”)
until she finally looked up to his face and he took note of the dark circles
under her eyes; she hadn’t been sleeping.
That makes two of us.
“Inside?” she suggested pointedly.
FP barely managed to suppress an eye roll but he held the door out of her way.
She started what he assumed was a fully prepared speech before she had even
crossed the threshold, but it seemed to dissolve into a stream of consciousness
ranting.
“Jughead is gone. A lot of people are ignoring that fact, acting like he was
never here to begin with, but I hoped his dad could at least remember he
exists.”
There was an edge to her voice, and he already didn’t like where this
conversation was headed.
“I tried talking to Archie about him because I figured he would be nearly as
upset as I was. He doesn’t get it. He just said that ‘maybe he’ll change his
mind’ as though he’s still in town,” Betty scoffed.
“He was upset after the dance, so I don’t understand how he can be so okay
about it now. It’s like they never really made up after their fight this past
summer—”
They had a fight this past summer?
Betty either didn’t notice or didn’t care about the dumb look on his face
because she kept rambling on, “so he doesn’t even care! And evidently there’s
no conceivable way that Archie could possibly step away from his own experience
of quote, “best friend” to try see things from the point of view of someone
who’s in a different kind of relationship, and why that would be so upsetting.
It’s useless trying to get through to him, but I realized something.”
That Archie Andrews moves on from a relationship every time there’s a shift in
the wind?
“Jug left me just as much as he left you.”
There was a sympathetic look on her face. That took a left turn from the
yelling and blame throwing he had been expecting from her.
“I think maybe, in a way, we’re in the same boat— I cared about him. I loved
him. How could he leave me?” Her eyes were welling up, and he did not have the
emotional capacity to deal with tears right now.
“But there's not much I can do to figure it now, is there?” Betty gave a
bitter, almost hysterical-sounding laugh that didn't seem right coming from her
pretty mouth, then pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as if to prevent
anything else from escaping without her permission. She turned her face away
from him and took stock of her surroundings.
“Can I have a drink?”
“Betty, your mom—”
“I didn’t ask her,” she interrupted with a roll of her eyes, “I asked you.”
She’s already going to kick your ass for having her daughter in your trailer in
the first place so what is there left to lose?
With a sigh, FP waved his arm to say ‘help yourself’. She walked over to the
kitchen and plucked the first bottle her fingers grasped from the top of the
refrigerator. She navigated the mess of empties littering the countertop to
find two clean glasses, then poured them both a generous splash of bottom shelf
whiskey.
Betty tossed the drink back in one shot before she handed him the other tumbler
with a grimace. She threw all her weight into sitting next to him, under the
cover of his arm on the back of the couch.
She leaned against him, and his grip on his drink tightened.
“I was blaming you. I spent a lot of time and energy blaming you,” she
admitted. “Maybe you were the catalyst, but he made his own decision.”
Is she trying to convince me or herself?
Betty moved just enough to pull back and tilt her face up toward his. “He left
both of us alone.”
He tried to ignore her eyes darting down to his lips.
“I think we only have each other now.”
She kissed the corner of his mouth, but when she tried to kiss him properly FP
gently pushed her away.
“Betty, I don’t—"
“I’ve seen how you look at me,” she interrupted with a whisper.
Fuck he wished he could deny that. What do you do when a pretty blonde
cheerleader with a chip on her shoulder is always flouncing around? He had felt
like a dirty old man checking out her legs, her ass, but always tried to
justify it as a passing glance.
Definitely not.
The arm that had been resting on the back of the couch moved of its own accord,
and he brushed her hair behind her ear, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb.
She tried again, leaning into him and kissing him slowly. He didn’t resist this
time, he fully embraced this life of complete sin. He put his hand on the back
of her neck, tilting her face for better access to her mouth, and he felt a
hitch in her chest.
When they separated for a breath, she blinked up at him with the ghost of a
smile on her face.
She took his glass out of his hand and he was about to start a hypocritical
lecture of enjoying alcohol responsibly (“Know your limit, stay within it,
Betty!”) but she merely placed it on the table near the couch.
And suddenly he had a lap full of Betty, frantically drawing his mouth to hers.
It could hardly be called a kiss, all harsh teeth and tongue. He let out a
surprised grunt, but welcomed the intrusion. His hands traversed her sides,
skirting the edge of her chest, resting against her ribcage.
He felt like a fucking teenager trying to cop a feel.
“It’s okay, you can touch me. Please touch me,” Betty panted.
The longing in her voice convinced him, and immediately he had one hand on her
chest and the other on her ass, forcing her closer. She bit at the junction of
his neck and shoulder, and all he could do was tug her hair.
“Let’s go to your room.”
The implication alone had him humping up against her, and she gave a breathless
laugh before she extracted herself from him entirely.
God help him but he wanted this. Wanted her, wanted to give her everything she
thought she needed from him right then.
She took a few steps backwards, “Coming?” falling from her lips with a cheeky
smile.
And Betty, with a sway of her hips he hadn’t witnessed since he was 17 years
old, walked straight to his bedroom on the far side of the trailer. Fuck.
If there was ever any doubt, he was going straight to hell.
By the time FP made his way down the hall to stand in the doorway, Betty had
dropped her coat and bag on the floor and was sat on the edge of his bed to
untie her shoes.
“You definitely don’t waste any time.”
Now caught, a slow smile crept its way across her face.
“I’m trying to seduce you before you change your mind.” He raised a brow at
that but she shrugged, unabashed, and leaned back to rest her hands on the bed
behind her. “Just being honest.”
He sauntered over, coming to a stop between her knees. He put his hands on
either side of her head and, though tremendously obscene thoughts rushed
through his mind, he bent down to kiss her slowly, almost sweetly. She smiled
against his mouth but eventually pulled back from him.
Betty scooted back on her hands to the center of the bed and crooked a finger
at him, beckoning. “Come here.”
Who was he to deny an official proposal like that?
He crawled over her, fondling more and more of her body as he went. When he
rested his weight on top of her she hummed pleasantly, and when one of his legs
pressed between hers her chest heaved in anticipation.
Betty reached up to grasp at his shoulders, hauling him down. She licked into
his mouth while he caressed her sides, before moving to her breasts and her
hips jerked against his in response. He couldn’t help but feel triumphant when
she started tugging at the hem of his t-shirt.
“Off,” she ordered, and he obeyed, removing the offending garment as quickly as
he could before sweeping back down and pressing his chest against hers.
She worked her arms down between their torsos in order to pop open the button
on her jeans. FP took over from there, lowering the zipper and pulling the
waistband over her hips. His fingers froze though, when he saw black lace
underneath the denim. He managed to drag his gaze up to her face and he decided
he could worship the devilish grin he saw there.
“Maybe I had an ulterior motive coming over here tonight.”
FP surged up to kiss her again. Quick, frenzied pecks from her cheeks to her
chin. “You’re gonna kill me, kid,” he huffed into her neck. He felt more than
heard the light giggle she exhaled.
He only pulled back from her to guide her hips up, followed by tugging her
jeans and panties down in one motion. Then he settled himself back over the
length of her body, one hand behind her head to keep her focus on his face
while Betty pulled the other between her thighs.
Well, she certainly knows what she wants.
He passed his fingers over her lightly, groaning when he felt just how wet she
was. “Fuck, Betty, you’re soaked.”
She flushed red at that, but he wasn’t about to start letting her get
embarrassed now. He kissed her hotly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She
returned the kiss with fervor, grappling onto his arm when he stroked his
fingers over her slit.
FP only broke the kiss to watch her face as he dragged his hand through her
folds, smirking when her mouth dropped open and her brow furrowed. He nipped at
her jaw while he worked her with his fingers, Betty whimpering when he circled
her clit slowly.
Betty’s eyelids fluttered shut as her hips bucked up towards his hand. He
allowed it for a minute, stroked his thumb over her jaw and tightened his hold
on the back of her neck when she sighed happily. Then he removed his other hand
from her suddenly, grinning completely when she whined and her eyes shot open
to look at him once more.
“Nuh uh, sweetheart. Eyes on me.”
She bit down on her bottom lip but nodded, and FP rewarded her by sliding two
fingers inside her. When he felt just how tight she was he groaned into her
neck once more, his dick aching at the thought.
Betty moaned a quiet, “Please, please,” and he couldn’t punish her anymore. He
pulsed his whole hand against her, scissoring his fingers. She let out a cry,
her grip on his arm tight enough to pierce his skin with her nails. She
squeezed her eyes shut for a moment but remembered his rule, quickly opening
them again, so he decided to be kind.
“Come on, Betty. Come for me.”
He kissed her once more, and she scrambled to keep him close. He curled his
fingers upwards and applied a steady pressure on her clit with his thumb until
she was coming, a moaning and sweating mess, thighs clenching around his hand.
FP kept stroking her slick flesh while she came, and kissed her at a leisurely
pace as her body’s shivers died down. Betty pushed his face away to gasp in a
breath, so he shifted gears to bite at her neck before soothing the redness
with his tongue.
“That was…” He gently removed his fingers from her, his hand going to stroke
her hip instead when she moaned in protest.
FP chuckled. “Yes?”
Once she had finally released his arm, he enjoyed the slight pressure of her
fingers running over his shoulders as he sucked a mark onto the column of her
throat.
“No, it's just... I hadn't expected to be comparing the two of you.”
FP pulled his body back from hers to study her properly. She already looked
confused, scanning his face for some sign of what had changed as though she
couldn’t piece things together herself – that mentioning the fucked up
situation they were in brought him back to reality. He turned away from her
fully and rolled onto his back.
He sighed, closing his eyes. If he kept looking at her he wouldn’t be able hold
himself back. Hair mussed, lips swollen, naked from the waist down (he couldn’t
even undress her properly, for fuck’s sake), she was the image of temptation
and he already longed to touch her again. He fell back against the pillows and
shoved his hands into his hair to keep them away her, forcing a slow breath
through his nose. Betty shifted next to him uneasily.
“You should go home, Betty.”
Leave me here to jack off alone. Wouldn’t be the first time.
She waited a beat, then he felt her stand up from the bed. He heard her gather
her things from the floor, shaking out her wrinkled clothing, picking up her
purse. The bed shifted once more, and he opened his eyes to see her kneeling
over him. One of her hands ran lightly over his arm, extracting his fist from
his hair, and she weaved her fingers between his.
It was a nice gesture. He almost wanted to call it cute. It reminded FP just
how sweet and perfect Miss Betty Cooper was and always had been, trying to
comfort everyone, and served as a reminder for how he had already fucked up her
life.
Maybe that was enough to distract him. Maybe it was the fact that he noticed
she hadn’t put her pants back on. Whatever it was, his mind was too
incapacitated to take note of anything new, until he felt a cold weight on his
wrist.
The oh too familiar feeling of a handcuff.
He stared at his own hand while he waited for his brain to catch up, which gave
Betty ample time to maneuver his arms in order to lock him against the
headboard.
“We’re not done.”
While FP was trying to figure out when he had stumbled into an alternate
universe, she settled comfortably on his lap.
“Jesus, Betty, what the hell are you doing?”
“Honestly? I hadn’t planned the specifics, but now I’m getting some ideas.”
Betty ground her hips in a tight circle against FP’s crotch and he held back a
groan.
“By all means,” had he been in his right mind FP could think up a hundred dirty
ways to wipe the filthy smirk off her face, “feel free to object.”
He really did intend to be a good person for once and put a stop to everything,
but all the words he could think of died when she finally pulled her shirt over
her head. He could only appreciate the black lace bra covering her for a brief
moment before she reached behind to remove it. Then suddenly tits. Admittedly,
that was a better view.
She moved her hips again and he could feel how wet she was even through his
jeans. The pressure had him reeling, straining against the handcuffs, itching
to grab at her.
Betty undid his jeans, only heaving them down to his thighs before she wrapped
her hand around his dick, stroking slowly while she looked down at him,
devious.
“He needed you.”
“What?”
Evidently, his mind was still having trouble keeping track of what exactly was
going on.
What the fuck is happening?
“You can’t—” she cut him off with a hand pushed firmly over his mouth
“He needed you, and you had more excuses.” She tightened her grasp of his cock,
near to the point of pain.
“Betty, fuck—"
“Stop talking!” she snapped.
She released his cock but gripped his jaw in her fingertips, a bastardization
of what he had done to her earlier.
“It was your idea, right? To go to Toledo? You got his hopes up with the
prospect of ‘family’ and you screwed him over again.”
She was grinding against him, practically dripping, and he yearned for her to
have mercy and fuck him already.
“You feel like he left you but you weren’t here to begin with.”
“You think I don’t know that?!” He snarled up at her, his throat tightening
around the words. “Yes, I’m a piece of shit who wasn’t there for him! I know
it’s my fault!”
It looked like those words were enough for Betty to reach serenity, and with a
patronizing, “Good boy,” FP could almost see the canary feather poking through
her teeth.
“Fuck you,” he bit out.
“I’m trying,” she quipped, positioning his cock to guide him inside her.
At long last she sank down onto him, her head falling forward with a moan. She
gave herself a moment to adjust to the size of him, then inched her hips up.
She moved at a torturously slow pace and he ached to touch her, pull her hair
and slam into her.
Instead, Betty added a slow roll to her hips, and all he could do was try to
gain leverage against the bed to fuck up into her.
She raked her nails from his shoulders to his chest, digging into his skin and
he hissed at the sting. “Fuck, you’re such a—"
“Shh,” she murmured, bending forward to quiet him with a kiss.
He tugged at her lip with his teeth, biting down until he was sure it was
painful. A low moan was torn from her throat and she clenched around him. In
retaliation one of her hands shot to his throat, giving a light squeeze.
“I’m still in charge here,” she stated firmly. As if to prove her point, her
free hand drifted down to rub her clit.
Betty Cooper, on your dick, choking you and touching herself. Holy shit. Holy
shit.
The hand on his neck clenched when her breath hitched, and FP felt the tension
shoot straight south. He couldn’t help the jolt of his hips, but Betty didn’t
seem to mind. If anything it spurred her on, finally moving more quickly on top
of him. He felt the telltale tightening of his balls as she clenched around
him, and Betty gave one final hard squeeze to his throat. Finally he was coming
into her, gasping shallow breaths as writhed on top of him.
He watched, almost in awe as she came with a cry before she fell forward,
drained.
As soon as Betty had regained her breath, she eased off of FP and started to
gather her clothes that had been strewn about the room.
“What, you gonna leave me here to starve now?”
Betty leveled a glare at him. “I’m getting a head start because you can’t chase
me outside if you’re naked. Calm down.”
He huffed and watched her dress, holding back all comments when he saw her back
in her lingerie. She fished around in her purse to find the key to the
handcuffs, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her while she freed him.
“I’m sure I’ll see you later.” Betty was so nonchalant it was like nothing had
happened, and he stared at her bemused.
She must have taken pity on him because she gave a light kiss to the corner of
his mouth once again. “Maybe you can come over for dinner again. Finally try
that peach pie.”
And then she was gone, out of his bedroom and out of the trailer with a slam of
the door, and all FP could do was inspect the crescent shaped wounds on his
chest - the only proof she had actually been there.
What the fuck.
 
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