sub!pizzaboy!chris x customer!reader
🍕 content warning: smut, strangers to lovers, handjob, oral (m!receiving), praise, faux sympathy, overstimulation, begging, slight dumbification
🍕 summary: you order pizza for your graduation party, and you find yourself in a predicament when you realize you don't have enough to tip the cute pizza boy
this chapter is in honor of pizzaboy!chris becoming real in the photo above. 💖 he posted it just for me, i swear.
Pizza Guy
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Chris figured he'd be delivering to some kind of event when the order for ten pizzas came through - five pepperoni and five cheese, instructions on the box to park anywhere on the street, and an invitation to walk right in as the doorbell wouldn't be heard over the music.
He knew he had the right place when he pulled onto the street and saw the slew of cars lined up along the sidewalk, the music permeating through the windows of his Honda Accord even from several houses down. He found a spot to park, cutting the engine and scooped up as many pizzas as he could, which was about half of the stack.
He made his way up the driveway, his sneakers scraping against the cement. You were just throwing open your door to see if any newcomers had shown up when you almost ran into Chris, who had a heap of pizza boxes cradled in his arms.
"Oh! Do you need help with that?" You offered, watching him juggle them all.
"Nah, you're good, ma'am. Just let me know where to set them," Chris replied before following you inside.
"Thank you! I hope it wasn't too much trouble trying to find parking," you called behind you, the loud music drowning out your voice. Chris couldn't help but to notice the sway of your hips as he trailed behind you.
"All good," Chris muttered back. You led him into the kitchen, showing him where to set the pizzas down. He placed them down on the counter next to red solo cups and shot glasses. "Having a party?" Chris asked, making light conversation, a little jealous that he was working tonight instead of out at some house party.
"Yeah, I just graduated school," you nodded, studying his handsome features in the dim lighting.
"Oh, cool. Congrats," he replied, the feeling of your eyes on him making him blush a bit. "I'm gonna go grab the rest!" He shouted over the music, giving you a sweet smile and a nod before turning away to retrieve the rest of the pizza. You watched him vanish into the crowd, missing him already.
"Who's the pizza boy? He's cute," your friend Stacy commented, appearing behind you out of nowhere.
"I don't know. I didn't catch his name. He is cute, isn't he?" You replied, searching the sea of drunk college students for him carrying another stack of pizza, intending to do whatever you could to get him to stay. Stacy disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared when a nearby cluster of people announced they were taking shots and asked who else wanted one.
A few minutes later, the pizza boy re-emerged from the crowd, re-tracing his steps back to your kitchen with the other five boxes. He placed them down on the cluttered granite, his blue eyes sweeping over your tight black dress, his gaze pausing on all your best assets.
The way he checked you out didn't go unnoticed or unreciprocated by you.
"So, Chris," you said, glancing down at his nametag. "You like to party?" You smiled at him with a glint in your eye, hoping he'd entertain your subtle invitation.
"'Course I do," he chuckled back, "but I have a job to get back to or my boss is gonna be on my ass all night."
"Can't stay for just a little?" You pouted, tilting your head slightly to the left, hoping your charm would be enough of a convincing argument.
He shook his head, but the little smirk he gave you told you he really wanted to. "Your total is $124.78, ma'am," Chris told you, glancing down at the receipt and getting back to business.
You reached for your clutch sitting beside the pizza boxes, rifling through your cash when you realized you only had $125. You nervously bit your lip before glancing up at Chris. "I don't have much for a tip. I'm so sorry. Shit. I thought I had more," you apologized, genuinely feeling bad and embarrassed that you hadn't done your math correctly.
Chris couldn't hide the fact that he was slightly annoyed with you. Afterall, it's not like your house was just around the corner from the shop, and it was an order for ten pizzas, but he didn't make a big deal of it. "It's cool," he shrugged, taking the cash you did have. "Have a good night, ma'am."
"Wait, Chris. D'you smoke?" You asked him, still talking loudly over the music. He paused, wondering why you were asking.
"Yeah, I smoke," he casually answered, which was an understatement.
"I mean, I don't have any cash, but I could smoke you out? I have some weed upstairs," you offered, a last ditch effort to get the pizza boy alone in your room.
His face lit up. "Hell, that's better than a tip," he responded unable to contain his smile.
Chris was giddy. He had all he could ever want in this moment - some weed, time alone with a pretty girl who couldn't stop ogling him, and an excuse to stay longer at your party.
You grabbed his hand, practically pulling him upstairs. You heard the music grow quieter, the walls dampening the sound as the two of you made your way down the long hallway to your bedroom. You drew him inside, tugging the door shut behind you.
"Wow. I like your room," Chris told you, his eyes grazing the posters on your walls and the fairy lights that were twinkling back at him.
"Thanks," you responded, heading over towards your vanity, reaching into the top drawer where you kept your weed, your grinder, and your rolling papers. You plopped down on the pink stool and started grinding up a considerable amount of weed while Chris browsed the knick knacks on your dresser, trying to get a feel for your personality through the way you dressed up your bedroom.
"So, Chris. What do you like to do for fun?" You asked him, twisting the weed up into the joint paper.
"I like parties," he smiled over at you. "I also like going on drives, going to the beach, playing video games, listening to music."
"Do you have a girlfriend?" You asked him, being rather direct. You licked the joint sealed, dragging your tongue along the seam with your eyes locked on his from across the room.
"No, I don't," he smirked, feeling the sexual tension in the air thicken.
"Open that window for me," you directed Chris, motioning towards the window to his left. He nodded obediently, sliding open the glass a bit, the fresh air rolling in. He took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands off on the front of his jeans and praying the cold breeze would keep him from getting hard.
You held the joint up in front of you, showing it to Chris with a smile. You stood up from your vanity and sauntered over to your bed, your heels clicking across the hardwood before collapsing down onto your mattress.
You held eye contact with Chris as you put the joint to your lips and lit it, the flame engulfing the tip of the paper. You suggestively patted the empty spot beside you on your bed. "Sit," you purred, the words coming out as more of a command than an invitation.
"Yes, ma'am," he muttered, feeling his face grow hot. He sat down beside you, watching you wrap your lips around the joint and take a long, slow drag before passing it off to him. He took it from you, your fingers softly brushing against his, making him swoon.
He held the joint to his lips and took a hit, the muscles in his shoulders immediately relaxing as he exhaled. The smoke billowed from his pink lips that you couldn't stop staring at. He passed it back to you.
"You like being told what to do, don't you?" You replied in a more seductive voice, placing a hand on his knee and scooting closer to him, making him harden immediately. He blushed, peering down at your long pink acrylic nails and imagining how'd they feel running along the underside of his cock.
He didn't have to say anything to answer your question.
You noticed the bulge forming in his jeans, and you started to move higher on his pant leg, watching his jaw fall slack. You took a hit of the weed before you looked him directly in the eye. "Take off your shirt." Your voice was quiet and sweet, yet demanding and dominant.
"Yes, ma'am." He nodded as he tugged the uniform off over his head, leaving him in a white tank top. Chris looked up at you with heavily-lidded bedroom eyes, eager to hear your next command.
"Take this off, too," you smirked, playfully tugging on the hem of the fabric. He listened, pulling it off and discarding it on your bedroom floor. You took another puff before passing Chris back the joint. You placed a hand on his chest, the tips of your fingernails grazing him and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
You leaned in and started to kiss him on the neck, your soft lips working over his warm skin. He let out a shaky exhale, blood rushing to his cock and making it twitch as you continued your path down his stomach and towards his waistband with your wandering hand.
Chris tilted his head, letting it fall to the side to give you better access, but he kept his eyes on your nails as you slowly undid his belt. You unbuttoned his jeans with one hand and lowered his zipper, revealing his black boxers underneath while you left a trail of wet kisses from his ear lobe across his jawline.
You traced the outline of the tip of his cock through the soft fabric of his underwear, making him whimper. He was so overcome by lust that he'd nearly forgotten about the joint in his left hand, but he took a drag off of it upon remembering it.
He lifted his hips as you tugged at the waistband of his pants and his boxers, pulling them down far enough to free his length. Your eyes widened as his heavy cock slapped against his stomach, leaving behind a small wet spot on his tummy from where he'd already started leaking precum.
"Poor thing. So easily turned on. You already made such a mess," you cooed softly, starting at the base of his cock with your nails and gently dragging them along his shaft. It twitched as you ran them along all his most prominent veins.
A lustful sigh fell from his lips as he melted into the bed and further into and your touch. You continued to tease him, repeating this motion with your nails as you softly sucked on the sensitive skin in the crook of his neck.
"Your nails are so pretty," he whispered, watching them dance over his length. He took another hit, feeling light-headed and dazed from the weed and your caress. You chuckled into his ear, loving the power you held over him and how easy it was to get him to submit to you.
You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, and you started to stroke up and down, keeping your movements controlled and drawn out. You squeezed him on the upstroke, and he moaned in response, more of the clear liquid pooling at his slit. His face contorted into a look of pleasure, his brow furrowing and his eyes fluttering shut for just a moment.
You swiped your thumb over his swollen tip that was begging for attention, and he shivered beneath you, his breath hitching in his throat. With your free hand, you tilted Chris face towards you, softly caressing his jaw. He locked eyes with you, a look of desperstion and desire staring back at you.
"Feel good?" You purred under your breath, watching him try to keep himself composed. He swallowed hard, his breath growing shallow as he nodded in response. "Want me to make it feel even better?"
"Yes. Please," he whispered, his mind swirling with possibilities, wondering how you could possibly make him feel any better than you already were.
Before he knew it, you were settling on your knees between his legs. His mouth fell open, and he tipped his head back when he felt you lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, moving slowly and deliberately.
"Oh, my god," he whispered, his free hand instinctively flying up and tangling itself in your hair. You flicked your tongue over the underside of the head, making him gasp before you tucked him behind your lips, softly suckling on his sensitive tip and cleaning up the bit of precum that was smeared on it.
By now, he'd completely forgotten about the joint. The cherry had gone out, but he still held the rolling paper in his grasp, too focused on the soft, wet, smooth sensation of your mouth to be concerned with it at all. You continued to swirl your tongue around the head as you nursed on his tip, his breathing and moaning filling the room.
"Good boy," you praised him for how responsive he was, and he throbbed in your hand, almost losing it immediately. He writhed beneath you, a whine escaping his lips. "What's the matter?" You purred, your voice laced with faux sympathy, giving him a little pout.
He looked at you with his glazed over eyes, the knot in his stomach threatening to come undone at your words. You continued to stroke him, slipping him back behind your lips.
He mindlessly lifted his hips, feeding you more of his cock, chasing the feeling of your mouth like he couldn't live without it. He ran his fingers through your hair, more whimpers unfurling from him, his heart stuttering in his chest as you bobbed up and down. You hummed around his shaft, smirking as he started to squirm beneath you.
You pumped your hand back and forth over the lower bit of his length that you couldn't fit into your mouth, drawing him closer and closer to the edge. He tightened his grip on your hair, not forcing you down, but anchoring himself to something as he started to cum.
"Your mouth.." he started off, his voice trailing off as it shifted into a whimper, pleasure flooding his system. His cock started to twitch in your mouth, his warm, silky seed painting your tongue white. "Thank you. Thank you," he murmured in between moans as you swallowed.
He reached the finish line, fireworks going off in his empty head, but you didn't stop. You continued slinking your lips up and down his spent cock, your tongue fluttering over his highly sensitive tip. He gasped at the overstimulation.
Your lips curled into a mischevious smile around his thickness as you continued your ministrations. "Too much," he whimpered, his voice breaking in desire. "I can't take any more."
You were determined to test those limits, still working your mouth over all his overwhelmed nerve-endings and listening to the sweet sounds he made. His fingers were still threaded into your hair, and he tightened his grip, instinctively trying to pull you off due to the intense sensation.
You didn't faulter. You pumped his cock back and forth a few more times, your lips slipping up and down every prominent vein. You drew your lips back up to his tip, suckling on his mushroom-shaped head until he was a trembling mess beneath you.
"So sensitive," he whispered. "Please. No more."
You finally pulled off of him with a pop. You swiped your thumb over his tip a final time, listening to him gasp and hiss through his teeth, his hips stuttering from the intense sensation.
"Wow," he chuckled, his breath still ragged and his heartbeat irregular, a ringing sounding in his ears as his blood pumped back to the rest of his body. He could barely think, but he still flashed you a satisfied smile as he looked up at you through his glossed over vision. You smirked down at him, watching him try to recover, taking pride in just how beautifully you'd made him fall apart.
"Again, I'm really sorry I didn't have enough to tip-" you started to apologize again before he'd even put his dick away. He chuckled, shaking his head.
"I'd bring you free pizza for life after that. Don't apologize for anything," he playfully responded, stuffing his cock back into his pants. "That was amazing."
"My number's on the receipt in your pocket. Don't lose it," you smiled up at him, still on your knees. "If you ever wanna do this again, just give me a call."