#darry x reader

It was clear to Darry: You were an angel sent from above. That was the only explanation for your entire existence. Every time Darry saw you, all he could think was that you were the epitome of "Too good to be true." And, really, you were. You had money, but not too much. Nice style, pretty face, and a matching personality that brightened everywhere you went; kind, sparkling, willing to help—even at Darry's constant refusal to let you. You were exactly what a man like Darry needed in his life, so, so badly.

So perfect, he thought. So perfect he was afraid to even touch you... afraid that he would watch you break like everything else ends up breaking. But, as always, you wipe that fear clean off, kissing his temple and whispering a hush, "I adore ya, my pretty boy."

The day you met was also perfect in Darry's mind—you always disagree, though, saying your makeup was a "mess that day." There was this open air of independence about you, your voice heavy through the phone-line like you had just worked tirelessly on something. He was right to think that.

"I tried fixin' it myself," you began, "but it jus' don't wanna work. Guess I had to call you—or someone like ya." Immediately he noticed how smooth your southern drawl was, despite how breathless you were. "It's a large hole in the roof right above the kitchen." A small heave fell from your lips before you continued, "I'd say 'bout... two-feet long? Lets in a whole lotta rain when it drizzles, an' the hole ain't even near the sink—Oh, sorry, sir. Didn't mean to rant off on ya," you quickly apologised, your sweet-as-silk tone coming back with a giggle to replace your tangent voice.

Heat pulled at the skin on his cheeks, a rosy hue rising from the fuzzy burn. "Oh no," he assured. "It's fine, and I can patch that up. All I need's an address and I'll be there as soon as I can."

When he showed up he expected something more...peachy. Something rich—clean. It wasn't that it was dirty, but it wasn't 'clean', and it wasn't on the side of town that 'clean' resided.

Again, you confused him—sent him for an absolute whirl—because you came out with your hair freshly done, pristine kitten heels, and a cute lil' outfit and skirt to match with your makeup. Were you a greaser...? He spotted a turned over vat of oil near a rusted truck. Yeah, you were a greaser all right. Or somethin' damn close to it...

The torn screen door slammed back into place with a startling ssscratchhh! on the white-painted doorframe, yanking Darry right on back to the land of the living.

"How much d'ya think that'll cost me, sir?" you kindly asked, looking up to his spot on the ladder with wide eyes and a purring smile.

"Not too much, so don't worry your head—"

You quickly interrupted him with an oddly confident snicker. "Oh, I ain't worryin'."

Now your hips sway back and forth as you patter around the kitchen, Dean Martin singing Everybody Loves Somebody from the record player. Flour smushes up against the plaid fabric of your apron, your hands too busy whisking the eggs to swat off the powder. Ponyboy sat only a few feet away, focusing deeply on the homework Darry was surely about to grill him about.

Muscular, towering—Darry's figure passed by your peripheral, marching toward Pony's hunched, focused form. "Already got 'im set," you said, eyes not even leaving your task of flicking your wrist against the yellow mixture. “He’s gotten ‘bout half'a it done already—‘nless he lied.”

Ponyboy has only told a lie to you thrice in his entire time of knowing you: First when you asked him how many packs he had smoked with Johnny after a particularly Dallas-y night out, the second when you stared flaming bullets into a blossoming bruise on his upper-cheek (he lied and said Johnny tripped and dragged him down with him, stating Johnny screeched, “I’m not goin’ down alone!”), and the final time—and perhaps the most memorable—when you got a call from a nearby restaurant you used to work for asking why your “shitheaded little shitstain” was blowing straw wrappers on unsuspecting patrons. That day was the day he learned not to lie to you—and also the day he found out he isn’t as good of a liar as he thought he was.

The little hunchback in the corner stiffly straightened, his chest all of a sudden puffed out and his lips curved in wild disbelief. “I didn’t lie!” Ponyboy piped up from his seat, though he sounded more hurt at the fact you’d joke about testing your patience like that again.

You hummed, sending a short, humorous glare his way, knowing he wasn’t lying in the end.

"Evenin', ma," greeted Johnny as he walked by you, his set target Ponyboy—his mission unknown.

Without even a glance to the kind boy, you read him like a book. "You know better than'ta walk 'round my kitchen—" Your kitchen. —"with muddy shoes still on."

If it was even physically possible, Johnny's head cowered further into himself. "Sorry, Ma," he apologised, sitting down to paw off the laces. "Ain't mean'ta dirty the floor."

Aimed at Johnny and only Johnny, you sent a wink with your glistening beam. "Don't worry, hun, I was makin'ta mop once I finish up this here," you pardoned, nodding to the bowl and messy counter-top.

Just like that—in a millisecond so quick it was easier to miss than a baseball zipping past your head at the speed of light—Johnny's toothy simper snuck back up on him. "I'll help," he offered, shy, slipping into the chair beside Pony and taking to shuffling through the magazines and papers piled over-top the thin vinyl table cover you convinced Darry to let you buy after the fifth instance of catching Steve rubbing icing off his fingers with the edge of the wooden table.

"Tell ya what," you started, causing Johnny's head to spring up to attention, mouthing a short 'hu?' that was barely noticeable. Moving the freshly whisked eggs into the bowl of melted butter, you continued, "You look through those an' throw the old 'ens, an' I'll mop up when I get this on in the oven. That soun' good?"

"Wasn't that what was gonna happen anyway?" Pony interrupted, his attention slinking right back to classwork after he shared his thought. He was right, Darry knew, Johnny was for sure going to toss the old ones and you were for sure going to end up mopping.

The metal of the whisk dryly snapped against the rim of the plastic bowl, freeing the leftover yolk from the bent wire. "Uh-huh, hun," you cooed, assuring Pony and Johnny.

Like the TV after Two-Bit's had his evening share of it, Darry found himself practically short-circuiting. It was the same way he does when he sees you in a new dress and you say you “got it just for him!” with a pearly, bright smile. He knows that’s not the full truth, but he knows just as well that when you look at yourself in that dressing room mirror, you think, “Darry’ll like this too!” And when—if at all—you think “Darry’ll hate this,” Darry’ll just have to get over it. God, that side of you is—

“What'cha thinkin’ over there, big man?” you asked, pressing him with that smirk that never failed to make him fear his thoughts were displayed in technicolour for you. His eyes were trained on your hips as he zoned out, and he hadn’t even realised.

“Thinkin’ how much he—”

Immediately your eyebrow rose like a guillotine's blade before you cut Dally’s booming voice off. “Don’t even think of finishin’ that sentence, young man.”

Staring Dallas down with your spatula halfway in the air, grip scarily strong on the blue handle, showed to be very effective, because Dally grumbled a small “Sorry, Ma,” before throwing himself into the fridge, searching for a beer.

Moving back to the task of baking, you continued sternly speaking to Dallas: “Don’t drink any of the beers that say Darry on ‘em, ya hear me? Ya’got your own kind in the front—don’t let a finger down on those Heinekens in the back.”

You got him his own beer? He very rarely drinks unless stressed, so the beers sit there and get taken by the gang. And you labelled it? Heineken is expensi—

“Yeah, yeah, ‘nd what’s up with Pops?” Dallas asked half-jokingly, half-not-concerned-in-the-slightest, pointing the neck of his Miller at Darry who wore a wonky smile.

“Whipped!” came a giggly yell from the living room, courtesy of none other than Sodapop.

Blush crept beneath Darry’s cheeks for the umpteenth time, so, to save face, he huffed a cough and pretended like he didn’t feel the ticklish sensation kneading his face. Of course, though, you wanted to ruin his little plan of pretending, making your way over to him—lipstick-lipped grin still glued down and dough forgotten behind you.

Fighting an internal battle not to grip his cheek and tug, your soft palm rested against the side of Darry's face, your head tilted to the side in adoration. Hand slowly sliding from his face down to where his neck met his shoulders, you spoke, "Oh, is that what this is?" Your question dripped sarcasm at Soda's response, although it was spoken more to Darry than anyone else—yet still loud enough the whole gang could hear it.

Choosing to ignore where the conversation left off, Darry wrapped his arms around your waist, ignoring your light shoves and giggly protests, leaning into your hair with a smile. "You don't gotta get me beer," he stated, to which you just shook your head, pulling back from him enough to look him dead in the face.

Affronted by his refusal to let you treat him, you scoffed and gently rolled your eyes, coloured eyeshadow smudged on your crease where you've rolled your eyes so often. "I'll get'cha whatever I please, darlin'."

Bug-eyed and looking like he shaved his face with chocolate syrup, Steve ugly-snorted as he entered through the doorway, Soda following him like a preppy puppy dog. "Eatin' outta 'er hand, aren't'cha now, Darry?" Steve prodded, leaning his weight against the fridge beside where Dally stood.

Suddenly overcome by the realization of how many people crowded an area originally meant for only you and Ponyboy, you turned from Darry, staring down the onslaught of people. "An' tell me what the hell the entire post-mass cleanup crew is doin' in my damn kitchen?"

Soda retreated back to the living room, walking backwards as to not disturb any further. Whispering a meek, "Sorry, Ma..."

Mumbling under his breath before staring down at the textbook like it wasn't him who had said it was Ponyboy. "I think she's talkin' to you, Steve."

Fingers end up pointed at one another, ruckus bouncing between cupboards and pot-hangers. The boiling point was Two-Bit appearing out of thin air seemingly only to pummel Steve against the sink. "Come onnnnn," Darry grunted, pulling Steve up and toward the sofa by his shoulders, Pony looking on with a new glint in his eye.

Eventually—after the kitchen emptied out, the cake was in the oven, and the floor ended up mopped shiny as new—Darrel's arms swept around your torso from behind, rocking you to the fleeting music notes emitting from the record player. "Thank you," Darry muttered, lips pressing against your shoulder blade and beginning to travel up to the nape of your neck.

"Hm?" you questioned, your head leaning back to get a look at him—in the end, failing. "For what?"

His head fell into your neck, greased hair tickling against your collarbone where it fell. "Bein' so perfect... Too perfect."

"Not too perfect for you. Never too perfect for you, my pretty boy."

You watched silently from the dimly lit dining room table as he moved in tune to whatever humming tune was being played from the television. Something of Ponyboy’s, his brain helpfully supplied him.

It didn’t take you long to tip-toe your way beside him, the soft creaks of the old floorboards underneath your feet acting as an alert for him that someone was nearing. Once he managed to tilt his head in your direction, a soft grin formed on his pretty lips. Darry was glad you actually took the time to notice how tired he was despite not ever vociferating that thought.

“Hey sweetie..” He mumbled, gently snatching your chin within his fingers to press a peck to your forehead. How could you look so darn cute with just a hint of colour on your cheeks and a pouty bottom lip?

You simply beamed at his little kiss to your hairline, maybe he was okay? No, you couldn’t just assume that and move on! Darrel had grown the ability to store all his stress away in a separate container and hide it when talking to people he loved, even if it leaked sometimes due to it being a bit overfilled.

“D’you want me to do the dishes for you? Maybe you should go rest with Pony and Soda for a bit, maybe even lend Johnny a hand and drive him home since he’s stayin’ with Pony.” You tried so hard to convince him while remaining as subtle as possible. 

You knew very well though, that this Curtis was a tough one to crack.

“You sure? I bet you’re tired too, honey.” He hummed, playing around with a silly strand of your hair that strayed away from the rest of it. You knew this would happen as well, he always managed to scoot away from what you were trying to get at.

“Darrel,” You spoke rather firmly, more than he was used to hearing. “Take a break, go sit down. I’ll handle the dishes, okay? Maybe go take a shower while you’re at it, you deserve to unwind.”

The brown in his eyes seemed to sparkle at your words, you really were some angel sent to Earth just for him. Even if he always tried to push away your kindness to take care of you, it would be a straight lie if he said he didn’t appreciate you helping pay off the monthly bills alongside him.

So without much hesitation, a rare smile graced his face, eyes crinkling happily as he managed to snag you into a hug. It erupted loud laughter from the both of you, and he couldn’t find it in him to let go until you started playfully berating him.

“Get off, get off! Go shower, you smell.” You teased, watching him nod and loosen his grip before he trotted off.

Your new chore of doing the dishes wasn’t actually as bad as you thought it was going to be. Helping someone who did so much for you, it felt like you were finally being useful. The time ticked endlessly, the sound of the aged clock annoying you over time from its duration of noise, but soon enough, the dishes were practically shining!

Darry was now out of the shower, the towel he once used to dry his body now hanging limply around his neck to make sure the water from his hair didn’t drip down and wet his shirt. He popped into the kitchen to grab a beer, specifically the kind Two-Bit and Steve disliked so he had it all to himself before popping it open and heading your way.

“Kitchen is damn near spotless, sweetie.” He chuckled dryly, but smiled rather shyly at you. 

In all honesty, he had to be thankful. You were doing the chores he knew he should’ve been doing, and yet your cute little ass always had to intervene. While he wasn’t complaining, sometimes he found himself being bored doing nothing, or maybe it was just his worker’s mindset.

You smiled pridefully up at him, happy with the work you managed to do in under 20 minutes. Clean dishes, clean counters and emptied garbage bins. Call it a bit overdramatic, but you were genuinely proud of what you had accomplished in that short span of time. 

“I can be a good little housewife once in a while, can I not?” You joked, smiling as he gave a warmer expression at your little playful comment.

“Whatever you say. You’re still the one that manages to leave clothes all over the floor of my bedroom, so I dunno ‘bout that.” He joked back, watching you feign offence at his comment before snickering softly to himself.

How had he gotten so lucky with you?

Soon the clock had reached 10PM, you shooed Pony off to bed since it was a school night. While Soda was allowed to stay up later than Pony, Soda was tired and trotted off not long after Pony had left. Johnny said his goodbyes before leaving, and finally it was just you and Darrel getting your much deserved rest.

Seated on the sofa sharing a cigarette with your dearest, the silence and dim lighting was somehow quite romantic despite your situation. His hand gently squeezing your waist, occasionally passing you the cig to take a drag all while he talked about his day and how tiring it was keeping his brothers in line. You felt nothing but admiration for the fact that he managed to work so hard under such conditions and never suddenly collapse or give up.

“Thank you again for helpin’ with the dishes. Thought that pile would never end, if I’m bein’ honest.” He hummed, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek as he put the nub of useless leftover cigarette onto the small navy ashtray. 

You nodded, smiling up at him with those pretty lips of yours and glowing eyes. Your hands gently pawed at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him just a bit lower for you to snatch a chaste kiss from his lips. Like your little reward, in a way.

Your lips tingled after that, and you giggled to yourself when Darry gave you a playful naughty expression. Soon, the giggles were turned into mild laughter as he grabbed your precious body and slung you over his shoulder, causing you to flail and kick rather helplessly.

“Darry, stop!” You laughed although quietly to not wake anyone up. But Darry didn’t listen to you, simply giving your rear a light slap as he hauled you into his bedroom. The door was shut once he was inside, and he oh so gently placed you onto the cushiony mattress of his.

Darry was grinning happily as you smiled up at him, hands gently rubbing the firm muscle of his shoulders and teasing underneath the fabric of his taut biceps. 

You really didn’t seem to understand how much he loved you, did he?

“Takin’ such good care of me, sweetie. What did I ever do to deserve you?” He hummed against the skin of your neck, peppering the softest kisses to the flesh while his big hands mapped out your precious body.

Every curve, every contour, every dip and bump that he’s come to admire so fully. A man like him, a greaser, an emotionally constipated man like him managed to snag something as precious, as porcelain and gentle as you. He questioned himself every time he woke up with you beside him in his bed. 

You smiled almost bashfully up at him, admiring every feature that laid perfectly on his face. Almond eyes as warm as ever, the slight Greek nose of his and that sharp jawline you wore could cut diamonds. Great heavens, he could have just about anyone with those looks, you thought.

“I dunno.. what did I ever do to deserve you?” You asked so sweetly, so pleasantly as your hands trailed down to gently knead at his triceps.

A groan, deep in pitch, vibrated from within the canal of his throat and falling onto your ear. It didn’t go unheard, and it made you giggle a bit. Poor man was probably so stiff and so tired. 

“Dunno sweetie, but I love you so much. Love you...” He murmured as he gently pressed his lips to yours. So tender, like he was scared he’d hurt you.

The soft kisses were like a balm to your lips, the warm saliva of his mixed with yours as your tongues started to entangle with each other seeming to ease the dryness of your mouth. 

Your fingers found their way into the soft curls of his hair, gently tugging on them for purchase as you practically kissed his lips off. Hungry, voracious almost. You craved him more than just physically. For once, you felt a deep, raging desire. Something that threatened to burn all of your senses with the taste and feel of simply Darrel.

But his lips escaped yours, and you tried oh so hard to get his lips back to yours. They were like a lifeline in a way, the way they breathed life back into the dullness.

But his lips made contact with your jaw, made a trail leading down your neck, suckling colourless marks into your shoulder as his big palms mapped around your body. Exploring you was an adventure he’d never get tired of, the mere touch of your soft flesh made him go crazy.

His hands managed to snag onto the elastic of your pants and panties, teasingly wiggling them off of you until you raised your hips for him to tug them off. Useless fabrics, they didn’t do anything to help him in your moment.

“So pretty, sweetie... Look atchu.” He murmured, mainly to himself but he hoped you heard him too. 

Cooing soft nothings as his hands wandered across your thighs, squeezing the flesh desperately as his kisses lingered along the lines of your collarbone. You were like jelly in his hands, putty even. You gave into his whims, soft moans and breaths escaping your mouth like whispers. 

Before you could even register it, his hands began to gently slide off your top and peel off your bra. But no words of disdain or discontentment for his actions seemed to be voiced. You let it happen. After all, you thought Darry deserved unwrapping you like a gift.

“Listen though, we gotta keep it quiet though, okay? Soda and Pony are in the next room, I really don’t want them to hear us. Last time they heard, Pony kept lookin’ at me funny.” Darry rattled you gently, getting a nod from you as agreement before he continued.

Like walking along an unknown path, Darry was more than happy to trail and trace every part of your body. Like worship, like you were some goddess. It wasn’t long until the tightness in Darry’s pants got uncomfortable, and what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t use what he had to please his beloved? 

Tenderly, his hands travelled away from your body to tend to his own. The ache in his lower abdomen felt like it was threatening to eat his insides, just from how aggravating the pain was. So he unbuckled the black belt he wore and tugged it off only to chuck it off and toss it to the floor with the rest of the unnecessary garments.

Your hands grasped steadily as his hands wandered down to unbutton the zipper of his jeans. You were so ready, you wanted to do it yourself. A man like him needed pampering too, right?

Nimble and flimsy hands managed to snag the zipper down, and you hastily wriggled his jeans down just so they were on the upper part of his thighs. A soft sigh escaped Darry, you presumed it was out of relief for his cock to be free from its tight confines.

Darrel wasted no time getting into a good position. He wanted to see you in your full glory, to see those lovely expressions cross your face or even feel how you’d use his shoulder to muffle the dulcet sounds you’d make. So he chose something comfortable, something that wouldn’t strain his already exhausted legs.

Patient, precise.

He handled you with grace, elegance. There was no need to rush such intimate and gentle moments when he was showing you his utter gratitude towards you.

Your bodies collided, moulded into one as you relished in the warmth emanating from under your flesh. Seeping into one another, your shared warmth spread all through you as Darry eyed you like you were the most precious piece of gold he owned. 

And in a way, you were. 

Gently, he weaved his way into the lovely tightness of that pretty cunt of yours. Rough fingers gripping his own base while he tried oh so hard to gently nudge his reddening tip up into your welcoming core. The little bit of wetness you produced had made it a bit easier, maybe foreplay would’ve made it better.

Ah, but you finally tried to sit yourself down properly onto his lap, trying to fit the fullness of his length into your dripping cunny. What a pretty sight. Nipples hard from the coldness, goosebumps along your arms and legs from him caressing you so gently. In what heaven did the Gods choose to send you to him?

Soft sounds of delight left you both once you fully settled down onto his lap. Darry could feel each little involuntary squeeze, the occasional squirm due to you adjusting to his size. Darry was no small man, he knew this clearly. But... you did make his ego inflate just a bit.

“Shh, I know, sweetie. Gimme a sec, yeah? ‘S gonna feel good, promise.” He hummed into your ear, hands finding the fat of your ass as he scooped it up for some leverage.

And soon enough, with the solid grip he had on your rear, he gently began rocking you. Up and down more than left and right, but regardless he was doing the work and it made you pout a bit. But great heavens, the way his length so perfectly knocked at your cervix and made your insides burn with glee...

Maybe you could allow yourself to let him do the work for a bit, right?

Soft noises escaped you both, grunts and huffs you were unable to silence even if you wished to. Darry was never one for things like bondage, blindfolds, all that junk. Just some real, raw enjoyment with you.

And that’s what he got. Your pussy, unwavering in its joy, didn’t cease to flutter or squeeze around him whenever he knocked at the little g-spot you had. In fact, he quite liked seeing your expression go from neutral to a scrunched eyebrow.

“You like it, sweetie? It’s all for you, take what you need from it. Been so helpful.. little minx in those damn shorts whenever you’re cleaning the livin’ room. Take what you need from me, want you to feel my thanks.” He huffed, ragged breaths causing the sentence to sound breathy and shaky.

You nodded lazily, lethargy making your legs ache but you kept yourself hanging onto him. Hips met his in a needy attempt to get more friction, and Darry happily complied to give you what you wanted. To give you what you needed.

And it wasn’t long after that you found yourself addicted to a rhythm that had your spine trembling and hands seizing onto any flesh of his you could grab. The warm skin helped to ground you, even if it wasn’t exactly what you needed. 

Darry was holding you so tight, resorting from gripping your ass to just simply holding you in a half-hug so he could still move you around. He managed to stuff his head into the crook of your neck, the area clear except for the little bit of natural hair growth on your neck. He had to stop himself from moaning somehow, right?

But he couldn’t hold on for long once he felt the aggressive tightness your cunt was squeezing onto him when you came, he just couldn’t hold on. And soon his cock was pouring out his fresh, fertile seed into your welcoming womb, the obscene noises you both tried to silence finally escaping as heavy breaths and low whimpers.

Good grief, that was a bone-rattling orgasm for you both.

Darry couldn’t pull his face away from your neck, a bit embarrassed for making such kiddy noises just from cumming. But once he finally pulled away to clean himself up and you in the process, that warm smile lining your lips was all he needed to confirm that it didn’t matter.

So like the gentleman he was, Darry gently pulled away from you and laid you back onto his mattress before grabbing some tissues and wiping away the excess mess in between your legs. So gentle, so tender. And once he cleaned himself off too, you both spent the night in each other’s arms.

Silent, but in a good way.

Cherry Valance:

Cherry x Fem!Reader Headcanons!!

One Day!! (Fem!Soc!Reader)

Bob Sheldon:

The Drive-In!! (Platonic!Reader)

Darrel Curtis

Dallas Winston

Johnny Cade

Ponyboy Curtis

Sodapop Curtis

Steve Randle

Two-Bit Mathews

Randy Adderson

Free Love!! (Greaser!Reader)⭐

The Steps of Acclimation!! (Curtis!Reader)

Different Sides Of The Track!! (Greaser!Reader)⭐

Dating Randy!! (Headcanons)

Greaser?? (Greaser!Reader)

Damn Hippies!! (Hippie!Randy x Reader)

Two Wrongs Make a Right?? (Greaser!Reader)

HEADCANONS / ALL GREASERS!!

Johnnys Girl!! (Post Canon)

Greasers x Curtis Cousin!Reader

Greasers and Their Parrot (Reader who picks up phrases) ⭐️

Rebel Girl You Are The Queen of My World (Cool Fashion Reader)

Greasers and Romantic Goth!Reader

Birthday!! (Yay Readers birthday)

Thrifty!! (Reader who likes thrifting)

Reader with Bad Homelife Headcanons

GREASE MASTERLIST

GLEE MASTERLIST

THAT WAS THEN, THIS IS NOW

Angela Shepard

Somewhere Far Away!! (Platonic!Johnny Cade and Angela)

Girls?? (Female!Reader (ofc))

Masculine? (Just my Angela Shepard thoughts)

Curly Shepard

Sports and Losses!! (Sporty!Reader)

Snacks!! (Curly Shepard x Reader at the bottom)

Mark Jennings

Who Cares?? (Fem!Reader)

The Bad Ending!!

Tim Shepard

Out Of Here?? (GN!Reader)

Goof and Bad!! (Soc!Reader)

Coping!! (Winston!Reader)

TEX

Tex McCormick

The Girl By The Ranch!! (Fem!Reader)

Johnny Collins

Breakfast at The McCormicks! (McCormick!Reader)

Tumblr gets mad when I link part two sorry everyone

Mason McCormick