#darbit

The gang thought it was just you and Darry.

They thought you were the perfect match for him—sweet, nurturing, sharp-witted, the kind of girl who slipped her arms around him when he got home from a hard shift, kissed the crease in his brow until it smoothed out, and made sure he ate something real before he went to bed. Even Ponyboy said you were like a mother, not just to him, but to all of them. And Darry?

He loved you. Obvious in the way he let his voice go soft with you. Obvious in the way he reached out to hold your hand when he thought no one was looking.

What they didn’t know—what no one knew—was that Two-Bit Matthews was also yours.

And Darry’s.

And that, most nights, Two-Bit’s loud mouth was stuffed full with your panties or Darry’s cock or both, depending on how well he behaved that day.

Your eyes flick over the counter again.

Two-Bit’s falling apart.

He’s got that glassy-eyed, ruined look now—cheeks flushed, lips bitten raw, drool down his chin. You know the signs. Darry’s fucking him too good, just like he always does when he’s in one of those moods—possessive, annoyed, in need of relief after a long week of working two jobs and pretending he's not dating his best friend and the girl of his dreams.

You hear Darry’s voice again. Low, steady, commanding.

“Tell her who you belong to.”

Two-Bit slurs something into the cushion.

Another sharp thrust. “Louder.”

“Y-you! And her—I’m yours! Fuck-I’m yours, daddy—I’m yours, mama- I’m- fuckin’- yours!”

Two-Bit’s cheeks are flushed a deep red, his hair a mess, mouth open as he drools onto the couch fabric. He’s sweating like crazy, trembling, and every few thrusts he lets out this breathless little “Mama—” as if he can’t decide who he needs more—you, soft and sweet in the kitchen, or Darry, currently fucking the sass out of him.

You sigh fondly. “That’s sweet, baby. Use your words like a big boy, and maybe I’ll let you fuck me tonight.”

Two-Bit sobs. Actually sobs.

“You hear that?” Darry purrs darkly, voice low and grating right into Two’s ear. “You keep takin’ it like that, she’ll let you fuck her leg like a fuckin’ dog. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes— please, please—”

Darry pulls out almost completely, only to slam back in so hard that Two-Bit screams into the cushion.

You walk around the kitchen island to pour yourself a glass of water, arching your back just a little more than needed, catching Darry’s dark, hungry stare over the counter. His eyes rake over your hips, the smooth line of your thighs, the domestic goddess act that only riles him up more. You wink.

He grabs Two-Bit by the hair, yanking his head back. “You watch her cookin’ like that, baby? Huh? You get hard just knowin’ she's cooking that f'you while i'm giving you backshots?”

Two-Bit moans, teetering on the edge of bliss and brainless ruin. His words come out in messy fragments:

“She’s—so pretty—smells good—fuck—Darry, please—I can’t—”

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask sweetly from the kitchen. “Can’t behave? Can’t stop moaning like a bitch in heat?”

Two-Bit’s nails scrape the cushions. “Gonna come—I’m gonna—I’m—”

“No,” Darry barks, halting his hips completely. “You come when I say. Not before.”

He leans in over him, mouth close to Two’s neck, hips grinding in slow, punishing circles. “You’re so desperate, you forgot how to fuckin’ ask. Where’s your manners, huh?”

“Please!” Two-Bit cries out, squirming, cock leaking a mess onto the upholstery beneath him. “Please, Darry, please—I need it—I need you—need her—need everything—”

You chuckle, leaning on the counter, chin in your palm. “You hear that, honey? Boy’s gonna melt.”

Darry grunts. “He already is. Look at this fuckin’ mess.”

And he’s right.

Two-Bit’s trembling so hard you half-expect his knees to give out. His eyes are glassy, tongue lolling, all signs of that usual smart-ass attitude long gone. Darry’s fucking him right through his bratty little ego and into the purest kind of submission.

“Shhh, baby,” you coo. “You’re doing so good. Look at you—taking him so deep. That feel good?”

Two-Bit nods furiously, sobbing into the pillow now.

Darry’s thrusts pick up again, slamming into him so hard you can hear the slick slap of skin on skin.

You smile to yourself, tuning out the noise to focus back on not burn the meat that's cooking in the oven. However, your attention snaps right back to them when you heard Darry's voice coming out low and rough.

“I said arch, Keith.”

“I am arched—fuck—fuck, I can’t—”

“You can.” Darry gripped his hips tighter, fingers leaving bruises. “And you will. You wanna come tonight? You better take this cock like a good little bitch.”

You didn’t even look back. Just smiled to yourself, shaking your head as you adjusted the flame under the pan.

“You’re being mean to him again, Dar,” you called sweetly. “He’s gonna start crying.”

“He already is,” Darry drawled.

You knew he was.

Two-Bit was whimpering—quiet little gasps and choked moans slipping out of his mouth as Darry pounded into him from behind, unrelenting and precise. You glanced over your shoulder and watched the poor boy jerk under Darry’s grip, thighs shaking, lips red from biting down on the pillow.

“Mama- mama- mama- can’t, he’s—he’s breaking me- he’s gonna make me dumb-"

You walked over with the wooden spoon you were using to stir the sauce in the pot boiling on slow fire still in your hand and crouched beside the couch, gently cupping his cheek.

“You’re already dumb, baby,” you whispered sweetly, brushing his sweaty hair back. “And you love it, don’t you?”

He nodded violently. “Love it—love you—love him—fuck—fuck—”

Darry leaned forward, one hand gripping the back of Two-Bit’s neck possessively, the other spreading him wider. His thrusts picked up again, loud and wet, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet living room.

“He’s so fucking tight like this,” Darry groaned. “He wants to be ruined. You hear that, baby? Hear how wet his little hole is just from getting railed where anyone could walk in?”

You smiled at Two-Bit, who was now openly crying, shuddering with every stroke of Darry’s cock.

Two-Bit lets out the most desperate, pathetic whimper you’ve ever heard in your life. It turns into a gasping sob when Darry reaches around to stroke his cock for the first time in twenty minutes.

He’s been edged over and over again—shoved down into the cushions, held down with Darry’s calloused hand on the back of his neck while he rutted like an animal.

Now, finally, Darry’s letting him have a taste.

“You gonna make a mess all over the couch again?” you ask lightly, still talking like this is the most casual conversation in the world.

“Y-yes—fuck, yes—m’sorry—I can’t—I gotta—I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead, then,” Darry growls. “Come for her. Let her hear how good I fuck you.”

That’s all it takes.

Two-Bit shrieks into the couch as he comes, hot and messy, all over the cushions. His thighs jerk, legs shaking violently as Darry holds him down and rides it out—grinding deep inside him, breath hot against his back.

“Fuuuuck—”

And just like that, Darry slams in deep and holds.

Two-Bit shrieks—, twitching and writhing with aftershocks as Darry groans low and deep behind him, spilling inside.

The whole house goes quiet again, save for the sound of the stovetop simmering and Two-Bit’s wrecked little whimpers.

You stroke his hair, kissing his temple as Darry holds him steady, chest pressed to his back.

“Think that’ll tide him over till dinner?” you ask sweetly.

Darry chuckles. “Not a chance.”

You glance at the clock. Pony’s been out in a trip to the local library for nearly forty minutes now, and Soda won’t be home for another hour.

But the rest of the gang?

They’re due for dinner in twenty.

And your boyfriend clearly doesn’t give a damn.