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Conrad Fisher x fem! reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut. Friends to lovers, fingering, oral, penetration, first time, praise, petnames. College alt timeline. College->Present day->college flashback style

I haven’t written male x female smut in like, 5 years.🫪I was not planning on posting this, but yes, requests for Conrad Fisher fics is open😬

w.c.: 4k

The first time Conrad made a move, it was sophomore year. At a random party you both decided to go to, one of Nicole’s friends or something. He saw you, sitting by yourself in the corner of the couch, hand loosely gripping the opened can of beer. You were staring at nothing, blinking slowly, body swaying whenever you tried to move. He crosses the room, sits next to you. “C’mon, we should go.”

“…where?” You looked at him, practically dazed.

“Home. You’re drunk.” His face softened.

“…’kay.” You mumbled. He helped you up, guided you the whole way. Out the house, down sidewalls, across streets. And then? You stopped in your tracks, practically halted, then hunched over and violently threw up into a bush.

“…fuck. I’m sorry.”

“You’re good,” he rubs your back, “It’s okay.”

“Gross.” You sighed, slowly leaning against him somehow.

“You’re drunk.”

“…still gross.”

He hummed, “No, you’re not.”

And…that’s how you ended up at his apartment for the third time that week. Because you were too wasted to be alone with strangers in your dorm. You immediately crashed in his guest bed while he preps ibuprofen for the morning, a glass of water, hair ties and a trash can next to the bed lined with a plastic bag.

In the room next to yours, Conrad stays awake. He didn’t dare sleep, listening to any sound carefully in the dead of the night. He hears the bee creak sometimes when you toss and turn, and then, at three a.m.? A gag. He literally flies out of bed and runs to you. You were bent over the side of it, dry heaving. Your stomach was empty but it was still trying.

And my god you looked miserable.

He hated that. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t like seeing you like this and can’t do anything to fix it.

“What the fuck.” You blubbered.

“How many drinks did you have? Jesus.”

“Three.” You laughed, “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“Y/n, come on, That’s not—”

“Go back to sleep, Conrad.” You shove at him weakly.

“I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Mm.” You slumped onto the pillow again, facing away from him. He stands up, and is just about to leave.

“…Con?” You said, your voice sleep-thick.

He freezes, hand on the doorknob.

“Want you to stay.”

“What?” He blinked rapidly.

“Stay with me.” You murmured, “Please?”

His hand leaves the doorknob, he steps closer to the bed again, lifting the covers and sliding in right behind you before he can stop himself. “Yeah, I’m here.”

You settle, he sees it in the way the crease between your brows leave. In the way your shoulders ease. Yet, you’re curled up almost in a fetal position, like you were trying to be mindful of how much space you were taking up.

“You know I care about you, right?”

He doesn’t even check if you were still awake. He just…wanted to talk. Almost like not being face to face with you has gotten rid of the rude swarm of butterflies in his stomach and the uncomfortable warmth in his chest.

“I do. I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s been that way since I saw you months ago. I always think about if you’ve eaten, if you’ve gotten enough sleep, if you’re taking care of yourself. I just— I don’t know, I don’t know when I started seeing you differently but I don’t want to live a life where you’re just my friend but I don’t know what I’d do to myself if I had read this all wrong.”

He breathes in shakily, “I don’t want to lose you too.”

—— >> << — >> << ——

Now, seeing you curled up in his bed wearing his hoodie? He still can’t believe how lucky he is. He watches you sleep, stupidly fond and extremely in love. So at five in the morning, his day begins. Coffee brewing while he pops slices of bread into the toaster, whisks a few eggs, takes out the package of chicken sausage from the fridge.

By the time your alarm went off at six, you had a full spread ready and waiting for you: Toast, one lightly buttered and the other one with strawberry jam, scrambled eggs with chives and cheese, chicken sausages cooked to perfection, a bowl of apple slices…and of course, a cup of coffee— decaf because he made you switch to it after noticing how it affected you. Always decaf.

You sit and he kisses the top of your head as he passes, his palm broad and warm on the low of your back, “Morning, sweetheart.”

You hummed and smiled at him, “Morning, Con. Thanks for breakfast.”

Conrad settles in the seat next to you, holding his coffee mug with both hands and watching you over the rim. “You’re staring.”

“Mm, no.”

“Don’t even.” He couldn’t help but laugh.

You rolled your eyes but leaned closer despite it, he set his mug down and kissed you, lips soft and warm. “Eat up, then go get dressed. I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”

You nodded and started to eat. You could feel him watching you sometimes, of course he does that. “You’re staring too.”

“No, I’m admiring.”

“Fuck you.” You remarked, but there was no bite in it.

He nearly snorted into his coffee, “Um, pretty sure you already did that.”

You huffed but continued eating anyway.

The morning continues in parallel. Breakfast finished, dishes washed and dried, then you and him got dressed side by side. He’d squeeze your hip or smack a kiss to your cheek every time you passed him. For a little bit, he just stood behind you watching while you were doing your hair at the vanity, including closer and wrapping an arm around your waist.

He rests his chin on your shoulder, and you turn your head just briefly. “What?”

“Nothing.” He says, the vibration of his voice making you squirm. “Just…so pretty.”

He kisses your shoulder, then backs up. But not before he lets his hand linger on your hip for a little while.

Eventually, you both grab your bags, put on shoes and walked out of the apartment. As always, he holds you close. “Still gonna get home before I do tonight?”

“Not on purpose, Dr. Fisher.” You laughed. So did he.

“Have a good day, though.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You too, Con.” You said back as your bus arrives. You kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiles, lips brushing your forehead unhurried.

“See you tonight. Text me when you get there, yeah?”

You board the bus, find a seat and watch him as the bus drives away. Only then does he leave. At lunch, he texted you for a bit while he was halfway through a sandwich.

“Con, I’m gonna be home late.” You ran a hand through your hair, a stack of paper crinkling in the other, “The client— fuck, they pushed the meeting back like two hours.”

“Baby, baby.” He replied, “Breathe. You got this, you’ve got everything ready, right?”

You nodded, propping your phone up against a box of tissues on your desk.

“Good, so just put the file away, drink some water. Breathe, okay? I’m gonna need you to breathe.”

You follow him, looking away from your phone screen.

“Look at me, look at me.” He coaxed, “That’s good.”

Your computer chimes and you flinch. “That can wait.” He continued.

“They just said they hated—”

“Sweetheart, they approved the file.”

“And then now, they’re giving me edits and— and — opinions on the day of the final pitch and it’s just me and Lisa. Because apparently half the office has the fucking flu.” You clutch a hand to your chest, “Oh, my fuck— Lisa, Lisa I need a minute, can you—?”

He stays with you on the call until you find your breath and calm down. Worried, but keeping himself composed. Typical Conrad. “Better?”

“Mm.” You hummed, “Thanks, Con.”

“I’ll see you when you get home, okay? I love you.”

“Love you too.” You nodded, and he clicked off the call.

Thankfully, the meeting went smoothly. And you headed right home, impatient to be around him. You were exhausted and had a bad fucking day.

—— >> << — >> << ——

Conrad was sure you wouldn’t come. He knew your schedule for the day and still asked if you wanted to hang out. You had an early start and late end to your lectures that day, he barely even caught you between classes to say hi. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if you saw him.

Last night, when he texted to ask if you wanted to hang out with him, Steven and Taylor tonight— you said yes. After replying to his text from this morning, he did not hear from you till late afternoon when he saw you in the campus library with your classmates working on a group project.

You got to his place about a half an hour after seven, knocked his door in a rush, slightly out of breath. You didn’t know this, but he practically jumped out of his seat to answer the door. Steven and Taylor were ready to laugh at him for it if it were the food delivery guy.

“Oh. Hey.” The corner of his lips slightly tugged up into a smile, “Come in.”

You followed after him, but your steps seemed to keep falling half a step behind. He stopped in the walkway leading to the living room, now face to face with you. “You good?” He asks while you stare at your feet, kicking your shoes off with a delay.

“Yeah, just tired.” You answered quickly, too quickly.

He squinted but didn't push it. “Uh, we ordered pizza. It should be here soon. You eat yet?”

“…no I came here as soon as classes were over.”

You sat down on the couch, giving Steven and Taylor nothing more than a polite nod and wave.

You were barely focusing on the movie he had on the TV while they argued over who the best Disney sidekick was while sprawled on the carpet. It wasn’t long before you felt a dip in the couch next to you and his knee lightly bumping into yours. You don’t talk to him, just glance at him and look away. The next time he looked at you, you were leaning in the other direction, head against the wall. Asleep. Fully asleep despite the commotion.

When you woke up again, the food had arrived but you were horizontal on the couch with a throw blanket draped over you.

Conrad smiled at you and immediately handed you a plate. Two slices: one bell pepper, one pepperoni. You stared at it for a long time before taking a bite— like your hands and brain were failing to work in sync. He literally had to nudge you.

“Babe, you look like shit.” Taylor remarked.

“I couldn’t sleep, thanks.” You deadpanned.

“I didn’t mean it like that, but I just mean…you’re so tired.”

“I know, I know I look terrible. It’s been a long week.” You bit back a sigh. Somehow, Conrad’s free hand ends up on your thigh, palm broad and warm. Grounding. You melt at the touch, chest fluttering ridiculously but you continued to nibble at the pepperoni slice.

While Taylor immediately noticed it, this was nothing to you. It didn’t mean anything except affection. Grounding. Expected.

“Wow, look who decided to wake up and join us.” Steven teased.

“Shut up, dude.” Conrad immediately said.

“Chill out, man. Maybe you need to take a look at that cut on her leg.”

“What?”

“On her ankle.” Steven pointed out. Then, Conrad noticed it, thanks to your bunched up jeans.

“I’m fine, don’t go all doctor-mode on me.”

But, you stopped eating the pizza and put down the plate. You get handed a can of soda, but you decline it and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. Really, it was just so you didn’t have to be that near him. You didn’t want to tell him how you got hurt. You didn’t exactly feel like socialising. You didn’t exactly know why you were even here other than the fact that you wanted— you wanted to be close to him. He’d always make you feel better after a long day, a rough week. But your sleep deprived brain failed to account for Steven and Taylor’s presence even though you were aware.

Eventually, they decide to call it a night and leave. That must’ve been around 10. You were half drifting in and out while hearing normal sounds— water running, the clink of dishes, Conrad wiping down surfaces: the kitchen island then later, the coffee table. You stir awake. He stops wiping the glass table and his head snaps in your direction.

“Hi.”

“…hi.”

“Out cold again, huh?” He asked, dropping the rag and sitting next to you once again.

“I’m fine.”

“It’s okay if you’re not.”

“Nothing happened.” You continued. He looked at you in the way that told you he knew that was bullshit.

“Yeah? How’d you get that cut on your leg?”

You looked at him like you were pleading nonverbally. “Don’t make me say it.”

“My Dad.” You revealed anyway, “He went batshit crazy last night after getting into it with my mom over something dumb.”

He doesn’t say anything, he just walks away to grab the first aid kit and sits on the floor to check the wound. “…Con, I’m fine.” Your voice breaks on the last word, and so does his heart.

Now your dorm, it technically exists. But not in practice. Somehow, you were always here and he never once questioned it.

He lifted your foot anyway and it rests on his thigh so he could take a closer look. Redness? Infection? Is it deep? Was anything stuck in it?

He soaked a cotton pad with antiseptic and cleaned it up again even though you already did. You flinch, your eyes water, but you don’t make a sound. But he sees it when you wipe at your eye in a hurry. He catches your wrist, brings it to his lips and casually brushes his lips against it.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I— I don’t know what to do.” You blurted out, “This is why I— I’ve been avoiding you. And now you’re right here and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

He keeps the bottle of antiseptic and the first aid kit away, comes back, and calmly asks, “What do you wanna do?”

You look at him and your heart, it just cracks open. His gaze doesn’t falter as he stands and sits next to you. Open, honest, warm…

“I just— I keep thinking about you and right now its worse.” You continue, “I don’t know how to turn that off. I don’t think I’d ever be able to turn that off.”

With a finger beneath your jaw, he tilts it towards himself so you could look at him. Then, his hand slides up and cups your cheek, thumb caressing your cheek. He waits, gives you the time to reset the distance. You don’t.

He smiles fondly, “I don’t think you’re supposed to turn it off.”

“What?” You sniffed.

“You’re allowed to want me.” His thumb doesn’t stop, and you melt into his touch further like a cat. “You are allowed to want me, but if you don’t—”

“I do.” You replied, as steadily as you could. It lands hard, but he doesn’t flinch at all. “I just…don’t know how.”

There.

That’s it.

The truth. Not desire, not being unsure about him. Just…unfamiliarity on how to act on it the way you want to.

“Okay.” He said back, “Then…we go slow.”

Your face heats up, but he holds your gaze steadily, “No pressure. We can do whatever you want— tell me to stop when you want me to stop.”

You gulped.

His voice goes quieter, “I won’t take anything from you that you don’t want to give.”

Something shifts inside you. Part relief…part eagerness.

You nod, “Okay.”

“Okay.” He hummed, soft and low, a grin tugging at his lips. You lean it first, pressing your lips against his. The space between the two of you closes almost completely.

One kiss, then another.

Then another one because he simply couldn’t believe this is real.

You make a small little sound that practically comes out of your mouth and into his, he smiles into the kiss, hand going up the back of your neck and sliding into your hair. He cups the back of your head, “You’re shaking.”

“I’m fine.” You muttered.

His free hand rests on your hip for awhile, then it slides…to your thigh, thumb smoothing over the coarse fabric of your jeans repetitively.

You squirm and his fingers tighten around the flesh of your leg momentarily. “You don’t have to be.”

“I just—” You broke away from the kiss, “Never done this before.”

“I know.” He answered, calm, no surprise. Simply acceptance.

You shift again, uncomfortable— urgent.

“I have you.” He murmurs, “C’mere. Sit on my lap.” You nod, kissing him like you never stopped. Conrad undoes your jeans, and you help him remove them very ungracefully. A few awkward laughs later, he tosses them off to the side.

He holds you steady while you move and position yourself carefully, your knees on either side of his thighs

“You comfy?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You chuckled, wasting no time to feel his lips against yours even more. He laughs, humming against your mouth. He pulls back just enough just so he could see your face, look you in the eye. “Look at me for a sec.”

You do, lips reddening and breathing heavy.

“You can tell me stop anytime.”

“I know.” You replied, gnawing on your lower lip. His thumb brushes a corner of your mouth before he presses his against yours like that’s where gravity told him to go.

He caresses your thigh, the warmth plain and simple makes you melt all over again. Makes you feel all giddy. That hand, it travels down between your thighs, slowly slipping beneath the thin fabric of your underwear. The pads of his fingers stop right at the top.

You gasp when they start moving, That just motivates him to keep you waiting. You writhe, a hand now on his shoulder to stabilse yourself.

“That okay?” He asks quietly.

You nod wordlessly, unable to speak.

“Good.” He says simply. “Good.”

He continues, pace picking up just enough as you began to pulse against his fingers. Eventually, a whine tumbles from your lips wjen you feel that.

“See?” His lips brush your shoulder, “That’s it. I’m gonna just…put these…right here.”

You feel like your breath just got knocked out of you. feeling the stretch as his fingers entered. How good it feels, how right it feels.

One, then two.

At first, he doesn’t move them, but when he does… “Fuck.” You let out, breath ragged. He hooks them upward precisely, hitting a certain spot every time he pushes back inside, causing you to clench around him almost prematurely.

“Easy, easy.” He whispered, lips trailing along your shoulder and in the crook of your neck. But, you want him. You want his lips on yours. You want him to kiss you.

“Kiss me—” You almost whimpered, “Kiss me, Conrad.”

You hear that low sound in his throat as he shifts, reconnecting his lips with yours. He moans into them, content. That hand around your waist goes to your face again, while the other fucks you slow, and deep. Making you want him more, want him so bad. And God, his thumb, finding its way right where you need it. The right pace, the right pressure. It makes your head spin.

“Fuck— oh my God—” You cried out, “Conrad—”

Your nails dig into his back, but hearing you speak his name like that? Words get replaced by breaths and sounds in a heartbeat. He groans, pushing deeper when you tightened around his fingers. Deeper, and deeper. Slow, and hard.

A moan gets caught in your throat. You stop yourself before it slips, but he whispers, “Let me hear you. Please? Don’t hide yourself from me.”

That nearly undoes you. You buck your hips against his hand, moving hurriedly with it as though trying to force your mouth to let go for him.

It nearly happens. You feel the change within you, something coils up tight. Conrad seems to have noticed, something about his motions have changed. They begin to slow, and don’t hit exactly where you’ve been expecting them to. You begin to ache now, the pleasure…it gets replaced by a deep ache and need that he was now holding back. Because apparently he could read you like a bloody book.

And then, his fingers slip out of you. You gasp, hiding your face in his shoulder because you couldn’t stand that smug look on his face. “You’re okay.” He says, infuriatingly sweet.

You nod despite your frustration. His hand now goes up and down your spine, then it stops at the hem of your ringer tee, he balls his fist in the fabric and slowly pulls it up and over your head. You reach back to try and unclasp your bra, but he stops you, kissing your bare shoulder. “Let me.”

You let him. He unclasps it easily, it falls onto his lap. He tosses it aside and carries you from the couch, down the hall into his bedroom. His lips don’t leave yours even once. Fact of the matter is, he was infatuated.

“Oh.” He laughs breathily, “You feel that?” Brushing the hair out of your eyes, he stares right into them as you lay down, and as he hovers over you.

You could barely nod. But you could feel that ache growing low in your stomach, spreading rapidly down between your thighs.

God he looks so fucking good.

“You’re so pretty.” He damn near cooed, his voice was so sweet and soft despite the reality of what this night has settled into, “I’ve never met anyone like you. I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re so— oh you’re so perfect, baby. I need you, more of you— can I—?”

He looks at you like he’s memorising everything about you. Every little thing, every little detail Like he’s commiting it to memory. That look makes your chest ache.

He gets close again, you can feel his breath against your chest. His eyes flicked up to look at you, searching for permission that you instantaneously give.

“Yeah—”

“Yeah?” He says, you feel his hands on your hips as he slides down, “You’ll let me?”

“Yeah, fuck— I—”

He settles, face to your cunt. You anticipate his closeness, but you were not prepared. You cursed immediately, hand desperately needing something for hold onto and somehow found its way into his hair. He smiles, and you laugh in disbelief.

“Mm—” He goes, “Good girl.” When he feels you throb in his mouth. The flicks, the swirls, every stroke is exactly how you need it and so much more.

God, the warmth you feel makes the hair at the back of your neck stand.

He brings you right to the edge and just a little over it before he halts. You literally press his head closer but he doesn’t continue, he just peppers soft kisses on your inner thighs, barely reaching where you need him most again.

“Conrad?” Your voice quivers. He looks at you with that gaze again. Like he wasn’t just doing what he was doing. “Please.”

His palm squeezed your inner thighs, groping them just so he can watch you squirm and hear you whine beneath him. He grins widely, pressing a kiss just shy of your clit and pulls back.

“Let me just…grab a condom.”

So you watch him— what else were supposed to do?

Off goes his briefs, and on goes the little thing in his hands.

Conrad closes the distance again, asking you to look at him. But your gaze follows what he does anyway. You almost can’t watch it, but you do. Your heart slams in your chest as he begins to move closer, and closer.

“Shit—” You whined.

He goes slower. His thumb return to your clit, movements relaxes but intentional, he leans forward kissing you. The kisses linger, so does the warmth. He was stealing your heart, your breath and so much more.

You were giving it all to him, without a care in the world. The room disappears, now it was just you and him.

“…oh, fuck.” You two say almost in sync, he laughs, tone low and rough. Your stomach flips. He groans against your mouth as he fills you up slowly. Your fingers dig into the nape of his neck, “Fuck—fuck— fuck, Con— don’t stop.”

The distance closes entirely, but his lips don’t leave. They stay. They stay in sync with yours and intuned to your need.

He ruts against you consistently, but slow, mindful to let you adjust. You do so quickly than either of your expect it, especially since you bucked your hips.

He goes faster, he’s bolder now. Surer of what you want, where you want him to go. He hits that spot deep inside you without fail, over and over.

“Oh, fuck!” He exclaimed, panting, “You feel that? You feel how much I need you?”

You nod, no words come out of your mouth except his name and some form of profanity. He couldn’t be happier.

He ruts against you faster now, you were closer than you were ever before this. His kisses get hungry, desperate for more, almost drawing blood but he doesn’t want to hurt you. His lips end up on your neck, sucking that one precise spot he found. A moan erupts clear as day right into his ear. Conrad goes nuts. Pulling back just to hear you needy then slamming into you before you complain.

“Conrad— Con— oh God, oh my fucking God—”

You were a blubbering mess.

He loves it. Of course he does.

“There it is.” He hummed, now close to you again. The distance between each rut gets shorter and shorter. The curse words and his name become a long string, unbroken. You cling onto him like your life was depending on it— it probably was at this point.

You don’t even know your name.

“…just let go.” He coaxed, “You know what to do. Look at me. I got you.”

You do, immediately. Like you were under a spell. Right then, he picks up the pace another time. The bed creaks. Your ears ring, you feel yourself, you feel him. You hear him. The way he was crying out your name between pants, kissing you like you were oxygen.

And right as you were about to come undone. He slows, smug.

“Don’t stop.” You plead, “Don’t stop— don’t stop, Conrad.”

So he does as you tell him to, pushing you over the edge at last. Your back arches, and your body goes rigid, “There you go. Come, come around me.”

He ruts more, languish and breathless. Gradually he stops, backs away and he slides out of you, leaving behind an oddly empty aftermath.

“You’re so perfect.” He kisses you deeply, it lingers, it makes you smile. You kiss him back, cupping his jaw like he does yours.

“You’re okay?”

You nodded, smile still on your face, your eyes half lidded and heavy. You were drowsy, and content. So fucking happy.

He pulls the covers aside and over you and slips in behind you, arm wrapped around your waist. Skin to skin.

His fingers brush over your knuckles, familiar and soothing. “You’re alright. Breathe.”

You nod, completely leaning into him, overheated and pliant. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t want to ever stop you from wanting him.

The room is quiet again, but it feels calm instead of like a suffocating blanket.

He kisses behind your ear, “Don’t fall asleep on me now.”

“…tired.”

“You barely ate dinner tonight.”

“Don’t feel like it.” You replied, “I’m tired, Connie.”

“Okay.” He relented, “You cold?”

“You’re warm.” You answered, voice thick with sleepiness.

He laughed softly, “Yeah? Good.”

You hummed sleepily.

“Good night.” His lips brush your shoulder once more before sleep takes you, “I love you so much.”

💬 A/N: Let me know what you think. And, my requests are open as always.

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