Beloved in the river

Im not rapunzel but ill let you pull my hair ;)

Her hair does something to him.

When it's not in its usual pony and falling down her shoulders in soft blonde waves, Jughead can't help but touch Betty's hair every chance he gets.

He loves when it's frizzy, when she's either complaining about the humidity or wet weather. It curls naturally and has an extra touch of texture that is irresistible to him.

He doesn't know if it's a fetish, or simply because it's Betty, but he loves having it in gripped in his hand when she's on her knees over the soft rug of his bedroom, all tongue and heat and lips around him. She gives as hard as she gets, bringing him to a completion of ecstasy that he feels down to his toes and in the roots of his scalp. 

"I-I'm gonna—Betty, stop—!"

But Betty never stops. She just looks up at him through dark lashes with her baby blues, forcing the air out of his lungs and causing his cock to twitch in her mouth as she sucks and twirls her tongue, swallowing the proof of her undoing to him. He unintentionally pulls her hair until she's crying in pleasure pain around him and he shakes afterward with the tremors of an orgasm so intense, it sends shockwaves through his nerves for moments afterward.

The strands in his hand always feel luxurious, like strands of spun silk against rough callouses.

Jughead loves it most when Betty's hair is tightly wrapped in his hand—him behind her, hips slamming against her backside, his free fingers pinching, tweaking and cupping perky breasts and pebbled nipples as he loses himself in her warmth and urgent cries laced in pleasure;

"Don't stop, Jughead! Don't stop; God—"

Her shampoo overwhelms his senses: rose petals and sweat tinged with a scent that is uniquely Betty, Jughead lays afterward, always, and plunges his nose in the crook of her neck, hand moving to cup the curved flesh as his other fingers golden tresses in a light grip.

He loves the way it feels when she's cuddled in him, tickling his cheek and collarbone. Every chance he gets, Jughead plays with her blonde locks, because he can. He's privileged enough to touch Betty Cooper, in all the ways he never believed he'd be able to.

Jughead loves so much about her—her personality, her charm, her wit, smarts and beauty; he loves her fiery attitude that shows itself when necessary, her long legs, her shining blue eyes and perfect breasts that fit in his hands.

However, nothing can quite beat the feel of her blonde tresses in his hands, because her hair, it just does something to him.