#crutchie x reader

You giggle sheepishly, grabbing hold of his shoulders first before moving down, and he scoots farther back on the mattress.

He laughs with you, fond, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the other hand firmly secure around the side of your waist.

“What’s so funny, hah?” He says with a smile, brushing your noses together before giving you a peck.

He places his hands below your thighs briefly, just to adjust you, eventually taking them to your hips.

Crutchie lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Arghh…now I’m laughin’ too,”

You meet it with an amused grin. “Somethin’ funny now then?” You tease gently

“Oh shut it…” He says back, rocking your hips for you, eyes training on your face.

He smirks, watching how you fall limp in his grip, and the way your eyes flutter close. A soft sigh escapes you, and you let him—for a moment. Let him grind you back and forth, savoring the slowness before the eventual whines.

Through the window, orange and purple hues paint the room, the clouds gradually dissipating as night falls slowly but surely. Outside the locked door you can hear the boys laughing with each other, and a faint smell of smoke wafts through the gap at the bottom—probably Race’s cigar.

Inside, Crutchie’s hands are all over you, dancing over your hips before grazing your waist, causing you to shiver. His fingers fiddle with the large button at the waistband of your skirt. He hooks his fingers through it, freeing the button from its loop. The skirt sits loosely around your waist now, and Crutchie keeps going. His eyes are shut, and he trails soft open-mouthed kisses from the space behind your ear to your neck. His thumb and index find the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down in one clean motion.

Ziiipp…!

Crutchie holds your hips still and pulls away; you meet him back with a protesting whine, slumping against him dejectedly.

“I-I know, honey.” “I know.” He says gruff yet reassuring. A callous hand rubs your upper back before sifting into your hair, tugging you gently upright.

“Heys…” He starts, gentle. He takes a finger and lifts up your chin, staring at you. “Lemme take these clothes off of ya’, yeah?” He offers.

“See ‘ya out of all this..extra,” He continues. And you give a curt nod, swallowing, waiting for his next move. Crutchie fails to hold back his laugh at how adorable you are, tapping your hip twice.

“Up, baby.” He says, smile evident in his voice. You comply, standing up so he can tug down your skirt, lifting up your legs to kick it off, a cheesy grin of excitement stuck on your face. He looks up and his smile widens at the sight; the sides of his eyes crinkle with a look of affection he only reserves for you.

“Ah?” He quips, reaching up one hand to pinch your cheek.

“Oh stop it…” you respond bashfully, hand coming up to grab at his wrist. Crutchie’s hand falls to your shoulder, squeezing it.

“Alright! Sit back down,” He says, more energized than before.

When you’re back straddling his thigh, he chuckles, and his hands immediately go to palm your ass, squeezing like he ain’t ever felt it before.

“All f’me?” He teases, quirking a brow.

“Sure,” You say, one hand rubbing his chest.

“But it’s not so fair you still got everythin’ on,”

Your eyes trail over the edge of his vest.

“Take it off.”

“Oh-okay, Lady!”

And as he’s removing his vest your hands reach to pull down his suspenders. You beat him in tackling the buttons on his shirt and he laughs, relenting. Crutchie quickly occupies himself by blindly pulling at the strands of your corset, undoing it with a practiced ease.

“Done with the shirt?” He asks. “C’mon, I gotta get this off ‘ya!”

“You’re funny, Crutchie.” “Can’t you have a little more patience?” You ask, knowing it’ll rile him up even more.

Your fingers unloop the last button of his shirt, exposing his pale chest. He wastes no time in taking off your top layers, tossing them to the ground behind you where the rest of his lay strewn too.

“Now isn’t that a sight, hah?” He licks his lips.

“This really ma’girl?” And he shakes you by the shoulders once, as if to prove to himself you’re not some sort of paper illusion.

“Damn…” He says. It’s breathy, and hoarse.

—————————————

His touch moves quick; your neck…

your back…

waist and thighs…

He couldn’t imagine a timeline where his cock didn’t strain at the sight.

—————————————

“You jus’ sittin’ pretty? Starin’?”

“Whaddya doin’ baby?—you can move,” he encourages. The pads of his fingers go to your chin, tracing along your bottom lip.

Except your eyes are stuck on the wet spot on Crutchie’s pants. Tan cargos dampened to a dark brown, sticky with precum. You guess you aren’t so different. You can feel it. He can feel it. Your panties soaked through completely. Crutchie stares at you, dumbfounded at the sight of you entranced by the strain of his pants. He lifts a hand to palm himself, sighing in relief before diverting his attention back towards you. The same hand goes to your chin, lifting your head up. His touch is electrifying, sending sparks of desire coursing through you, as though the pads of his fingers were mini sparklers.

“I—uhm..” You start softly, feeling your cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

“You’s gonna get all shy on me now?” He coos, so gentle you nearly melt. His fingers at your waist dig in suddenly—just for a moment, making you gasp.

His affectionate gaze is wrapped in a layer of lust; half-lidded, he mouths:

“Move.”

So you do.

Slowly, you drag your hips, giving into the pull towards bliss. Your soaked panties print another wet spot onto his cargos, and one of Crutchie’s hands grabs at the side of your underwear, hiking it up, a sly smirk on his face.

Hair clings to the sweat of your forehead, the humidity in the room is almost suffocating combined with your pretty whines and Crutchie’s soft murmurs.

“Fuck…” he says, low and gruff.

It goes straight to your core.

You watch as his hands reach to undo his pants, his bulge jumping with the action, and he hisses in response.

“‘Cock’s too fuckin’ hard..” he says aloud.

Soon his fingers are digging into the waistband of his underwear, and he’s pulling out his leaking dick, palming the head. Precum glides over the soft pink of his glands, causing him to grunt as he begins to stroke, unsheathing his cock, pulling down his foreskin.

His eyes turn back up to your face resting against his shoulder.

“You don’ mind?” He teases. But he already knows how much you like watching him. All the times you stared in awe seeing him jerk off, sat beside him at the end of his bunk listening to the slick of spit and precum dragging along his length. You’d squirm and deny yourself for so long, sitting on your feet, grinding against the flat of your heel until he inevitably called you over. “I know y’don’t.”

He starts slow, hand flipping down then back upright, twisting gently. Crutchie makes an effort to look at your face, breathing in your little moans. The sight of the drool slipping down from the corner of your mouth makes his lips quirk, how dumb you got just by riding his thigh.

“Ain’t you just the prettiest, sweet’art? Hm?” He coos in a tone just shy of mocking. “‘Love to ride my leg…Tha’s right.”

Crutchie’s soft lips press a gentle kiss to your temple as your hips move steadily.

“Mmhmm…” You manage out weakly, tilting your head up to press a kiss against his jaw.

He sighs out in contentment before his other hand comes up to take hold of the side of your face, gentle in comparison to the brash kiss he gives you. His nose knocks against yours, and the kiss is sloppy. Your head spins; he’s kissing you like his life depends on it, like he’s pouring every ounce of his desperation into you, tongue escaping out of the confines of your mouths. You can feel him practically spitting into your mouth, as if to place some sort of claim on you.

His lips on yours, his tongue against yours, swallow his spit.

Finally he pulls away. A string of saliva connects your puffy lips and you watch the way his gaze lands on it, sucking in a breath at the sight. It breaks, falling back to your chin instead.

“I can’t.” He says, hushed. “Need ‘ya, baby.”

Crutchie’s hands lower to your hips again, rocking you as he speaks as if to press his case.

“Will you…?” Will you let me…?” God. It’s almost a whine. And he asks so sweetly, the same time as he pushes you into his thigh, making your clit drag across it.

How could you deny him?

—————————————

Suddenly, he’s pushing your bodies further onto the mattress, telling you to watch your head and lift your hips off his thigh so he can “take off these pretty panties.” You grab onto the cold metal of the top rung holding the mattress above you and look down as his big hands tug off your panties hurriedly.

He has a weird quirk in his mouth like he doesn’t know what to do with the sight of you for a moment, before he keeps pulling them down until they’re completely off. You lean down to press your head into the crook of his neck, rocking impatiently above him.

His eyes almost roll back at the feeling.

“Arghh..hah..” A weak laugh. Crutchie’s hands find home on your ass as yours absentmindedly reach down to fumble pushing off his pants.

“Yeah baby, that’s right…” “Good girl.” He says, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He can’t control the way his right hand comes up to run a finger between your wet folds, causing your knees to buckle and a moan slip past your lips straight into his ear.

He grins, pressing a thumb to your sensitive clit.

“Don’t get distracted; keep goin’…”

When his pants are down to his knees, he starts to guide your hips to his cock that jumps in anticipation.

“‘You ready, baby?” His tone is so soft that a shiver runs through you, and you tell him that you are, and soon he’s gliding you back and forth against the length of his cock, lubing himself up with your pussy as your fingers thread through his messy hair and your whining into each other’s mouths.

He eventually slows, and when you’re about to protest you feel his tip start to prod at your entrance. After making your hips circle around around it a few times, he finally slips in.

Holy shit.

You can’t hold back the moan that leaves you as he stretches out your pussy, your mouth slacks open and you have to remind yourself to not get too carried away and that the rest of the boys are outside. It doesn’t seem like Crutchie’s as coherent though; his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s hissing at the way you stretch around his girth. When you finally bottom out he looks to you to start thrusting, and when you nod he meets you with a small lift of his hips, groaning.

“Mmm..hagh, ‘you feel so good around me, lovie.”

—————————————

He sucks on your collarbone, littering you in marks of varying shades, and licking them after to soothe. His hands squeeze and grab at your tits, fingers playing with your proddy nipples.

You feel his lips grin into the skin of your neck, mumbling something that you can’t quite understand, forcing you to muster up a whiny interrogating sound.

“Nnngh…?”

“‘Says you feel too good around aroun’ me, angel..”

“‘Look like a goddess above me,”

“‘Ya sure you ain’t..?” He laughs weakly, hushed and out of breath.

You can’t find it in you to respond, much too occupied by the steady pace of his dick hitting that one spot that makes you see stars.

“Mmfghh..Ahh, fuck..” you whimper, desperate to cum.

“Argh…swearing, huh?” He responds, maintaining pace.

“M’making you feel that good..?”

It’s a hit straight to his ego when you say yes, and he’s fucking up into you just noticeably harder than before. You think this must be the closest thing to heaven on Earth—in bed with Crutchie, his cock filling you up with every lift of his hips, and his mouth spilling out sweet nothings to you.

He looks so handsome below you, his eyebrows are tensed and his nose is scrunched just a little bit, and—oh, he’s just so beautiful. And you almost want to cry—but you don’t, you just lay a hand on his cheek, cupping his face with a gentleness akin to the touch of an angel; at least that’s what it feels like to him.

He nearly breaks at it, so caught up in the whirlwind of emotions surging through him. But he’s determined to make you cum—make you fall apart all over him.

“Gods…I’s gonna make you feel good, alright?” “I promise,”

It’s sickening how sweet he is.

—————————————

“Crutchie, Crutchie, Crutchie…Crutch..!”

You’re singing his name like a choir. You’re so close; Crutchie’s hips are unrelenting.

He’s got you, you know he’s got you.

“I-I can’t…” you tell him, cheek pressed against his chest.

“Then don’t.” “Let go.” He meets back.

“Cum f’me. Cum f’me, pretty—I know you’re so close…c’mon..” he eggs you on.

Just moments later your cunt is spasming around his cock, gummy walls squeezing tight as you tense in his hold. Your toes curl in and you let out a loud, final moan as your orgasm washes over you. It’s so overwhelming, Crutchie’s cooing into your ear, whispering about how good you are and how beautiful you look, and his cock is still rocking inside of you, giving you little time to recuperate before he starts chasing after his own release.

His thrusts are harder now—deeper, he’s desperate to get off like you did. Your limp body grasps his shoulders like a lifeline. It’s so much; it’s too much.

“Ahh…Cr-Crutchie..mmphh..!” you mumble out.

“I know…I know..” “But you can take it, right?” “You’s is so strong, you can do it…”

When you tighten around him he groans, it’s throaty and so much deeper than you’re used to hearing him be. You can feel the way his hips start to stutter. He’s gasping and literally huffing out whines.

“Baby-Baby,” “I’m gonna cum..!” “Shit…”

And in the same breath his arms are lifting you off of his dick, his balls contract and white splatters onto his chest.

He cums with his eyes closed—with your hands weakly cupping the sides of his faces, thumbs stroking his sharp cheekbones.

“Yeah…yeah..” is all you manage to say. You don’t know why, or what you’re saying it to, but it feels right. And Crutchie gets it, because just as he’s coming to his senses, a hand snakes up to hug your waist, pulling you to lay down beside him, nodding.

“I love you.” He gets out, kissing the top of your head, nuzzling against it.

You say the same, basking in his presence. Your tired eyes stare at how the last of the sun’s rays fall along his features.

“You’re unreal, Crutch’.”

“Just you, angel.” “Just you…”

The silence that follows almost lulls you to sleep, but you resist its pull—you know better than to do that; other people sleep in this room too.

But you let yourself rest against him, breathing heavy together, exchanging soft hums like some secret language.

“Jus’ give me a moment, dar-”

“YOU GUYS JUST ABOUT DONE SMOOCHIN’?” Someone hollers, followed by a mini chorus of laughter and playful snickers.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but all Crutchie does is toss his head back and laugh.

“Hey..!” You punch him softly.

He looks back down at you, picking up his upper half to rest himself on his left elbow. His right lifts up your chin before pressing a soft kiss to your lips, disconnecting with a pop.

A fond smile graces his features before he speaks.

“I’ll deal with them.”

She was taken aback by his tone, a little hurt too. She liked all the attention she was getting from the charismatic union leader, why the hostility all of a sudden. 

“I just thought you’d like to know that the rally was a success. We are meeting the other towns’ Newsies tomorrow to get the strike. We will win this.”

He flew around and glared daggers at her, scaring her a bit. 

“Win? WIN? How on earth would we win this? People are hurt and in the Refugee ‘cause of my brilliant idea! How on earth is this winning?”

“Everyone’s safe, Jack. What do you-”

“No! Not everyone is safe! Scab is in the Refugee cause of me! She is the second most wanted Newsie! Do you know what could happen to ‘er?”

“Her?” Katherin’s voice got caught in her throat. Jack’s face fell. Had he called you her? That was odd. He still wasn’t used to the fact that you were a she. 

“Yeah, her. And if Snider finds out about that little fun fact, she’s in for an even worse time. And do you know who is to blame for that?”

“Jack it's really-,” She touched his arm but he pulled back. 

“Just leave me be, Katherin.” He turned away from her. Katherin desperately reached for him, but took her hand back. She sighed and left him be. It had been a few days since the rally, the last of the Newsies had just gotten back to her, she thought that it would be a celebratory evening. Maybe even ending a kiss? But now knowing that you were a she… Tears brimmed on her eyes and she ran all the way to her apartment. 

Jack tapped his hand on the railing looking over the city he loved and hated all at the same time. He hadn’t been back to see you since Crutchie took him. If he was being honest he was scared to see you. Terrified actually.  But his mind had become set… he needed to see you again… he needed to break you out… he needed you.

You had limped back to your room that night and collapsed on the floor, holding your stomach trying to keep all your guts in. The Delancys had a good time with you tonight with Snider watching over their shoulder. Everything hurt. You weren't sure how long you had been lying there before you heard his voice.

"Pst. Scab!" You weakly raised your head and looked up at your window. Jack? 

You tried to speak, but your throat closed up. They had beaten you good that night and you hadn't even had the energy to walk to dinner that night. Staring plus pain did not equal a happy Y/N

"Scabs, you in there?"

 You stayed silent. Maybe if you stayed silent he'd go awa-

"Listen, I know you're there. I'm coming in if you don't answer me. 

Shit

"What do you want, Jack?" You croaked out, cringing from how weak you sounded and from the burning pain. 

" Scabs?" You heard him swallow and you sighed, pasting on false confidence. 

"Who else?" You answered but didn't move from your painful position on the floor.

"Are you alright? They haven't gotten ya to bad, have they?"

"No" You said, but you had hesitated and your voice cracked. You were the most skilled liar in the newsboys…. But when it came to Jack Kelly, you were putty in his hands. You could spill every last secret to him if he asked. 

You heard him swallow. 

"Can you come to the window?"

"You don't want me to do that, Jacky boy."

"I think I do." You stayed silent, attempting to move but not succeeding. "Scabs? Can you come to the window?" You stayed silent again, trying to keep the tears at bay and failing. Your silence was answer enough for him. 

You heard the rattling of the bars over your window.

"Jack? What are you-"

Pop! 

Clang!

"Jack?"

Thunk!

Two footsteps approached you and you heard the protest of the floor boards as he stopped and knelt down. You tried to hide your face, but found you were unable to move your neck, or back, or body. 

You felt a hand on your side and whined. The hand was immediately removed, but that didn't stop the pain. 

"What did they do ta ya, Scabs?"

"Look that bad, eh?" You chuckled, but flinched. 

"Come on, I'm getting you outta here." 

He started to pick you up, but you squirmed as much as you could to get away from him. 

"No."

"What?"

"No, Jack."

"What do you mean no?"

"I can't go."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because of the other kids. The ones who need more help than I do."

"Scabs, have you looked in the mirror?"

"Actually, no. We don't have any here. But in the moping water I have and, yes, I know I look like hell. But, Jack, some of these kids are barely eight, some five! This is not the place for them to be growing up!"

"Scabs, this is not the time to be playing hero."

"Get the other kids out first and then I'll go."

"Do you know how long that could take? There are hundreds here!"

"Shh!" You looked at the door and let out a quiet, yet heavy, breath. "I know, but this is no place for them to be. For anyone to be."

"Then we can get them all out together." You shook your head. 

"Jack, get them out first. Get them fed and taken care of, then worry about me. Or don't. You have more important things than myself to worry about."

"What do you mean?" 

"Your boys, the strike…. Katherin…" you added sadly.

"Katherin? You think she's more important than you?"

"Jack, she's rich and beautiful and talented with a future. Emphasis on FUTURE. Who am I? A bum who ended up in the refuge."

"You saved Crutchie!"

"Yeah, but I couldn't get both of us out like he did. Don't make me out to be some hero, Kelly. I have more blood on my hands than Jack the ripper."

"What are you-"

"Jack, I'm not as innocent as you think… or as you'd like to think."

"Scabs, I don't care. I'm getting you outta here."

"Get them out first. No buts."

It wasn’t all that often that Crutchie had to take off from work because of his leg, but today the pain was unbearable. Unfortunately, though, the two of you still didn’t have enough money to pay for doctor’s visits or medicine. You ended up staying with him just to try to distract him from his pain. Even though you didn’t have enough money for the doctor, you both did have enough money to keep living in the lodging house.

You wrapped his leg, set it up on a pillow, and laid down next to him on his small bunk.

“I’m really sorry that I can’t do much for you,” you admitted in a small voice.

“Don’t be sorry, I’m just glad that you’re here with me,” he spoke with a million-watt smile plastered on his face. This boy will literally be the death of you if he smiles like that.

---

You had been sitting in bed there for hours talking about everything, but the conversation ended on something Race wished he could delete from his brain. He wished he would have stayed out with the other boys for the rest of the day.