forgive me for the plot with porn but truck driver!toji/waitress!reader yeah i said what i said
The summer nights were sticky in the middle of August. The kind that made your shirt stick to your skin at the faintest bead of sweat. And the sodium glow of the lights in your hometown Waffle House was about to drive you absolutely mad.
At least it was a slow night. The 9:00 to 1:00s were never any fun unless there was a football game at the high school. The cook hardly ever talked outside of order questions, leaving you to deadpan out the window until a customer or the town drunk happened to find their way inside.
The door swung open around midnight, and your third cup of coffee. You were busying yourself with finally cleaning the waffle irons, figuring it had to be some random or homeless person about to beg you for a waffle or a to-go drink.
"Hey welcome to Waffle House. How can I hel-" You cut yourself off mid-turn, getting a glance at your late-night customer slouched at the counter in front of you.
Inky black hair streaked in little strobes against the overhead light, clad in a worn out work shirt and ripped jeans. A scar ribbed against the right side of his lip that twitched when he moved his mouth.
When he raised his head, piercing steel eyes met your own. "Coffee. Black."
For small towns, not many people around here were hit with the pretty stick, but this man was an actual Greek God. His jaw had to have been made of marble, and his muscles could probably move mountains. You felt like you were having to pick your own jaw up off the floor just to serve him his damn coffee.
With shaky hands, from the caffeine or nerves, you couldn't tell, you sat his coffee down in front of him. "Anything to eat?"
He pondered the menu, then rested his chin in his hand. "What do you suggest?"
You blinked. Everyone knew their Waffle House order. "You not from around here?"
He shook his head. "From out west. I'm just passing by, got a load headed to Virginia."
"Oh, you're trucking. That makes sense." You nod. "Well, just about anything on that menu's good, but I prefer the All-Star."
He hummed. "Yeah, I'll do it. Gimme the eggs over hard, bacon, and hashbrowns."
"Keep the waffle. Feed yourself."
You chuckled, pressing the order book up to your nose. "I can't tell if you're calling me skinny or fat."
The man in front of you finally smirked, shrugging. "That's putting quite a lot of stock into a man who just doesn't want the waffle."
Rolling your eyes, you called out his order to the cook.
While the cook worked on the grill, you got back to tending to the over-neglected waffle irons, scraping against the molds where waffle mix had burnt and stuck between the grooves.
Now you were no psychic, but the eyes you felt on you were undeniable. The air was now thick with bacon and hash brown smoke, some bluesy tune played through the speakers, and silver eyes were watching you like a hawk.
You confirmed your suspicions when you turned around, and the man across the counter made no effort in acting nonchalant. He continued to stare at you, no other emotion other than maybe some hint of amusement creasing his eyes.
"Everything okay?" You asked, just to be sure.
He shook his head. "Just spectating."
"It's A-list entertainment, watching some random chick clean a waffle iron." You joked, continuing to scrape the iron with the poor butter knife you decided to sacrifice to get the job done.
"Only when the random chick doing it is hot as hell."
You wanted to convince yourself you misheard him, intertwined some of his words with the music playing around you, but there simply was no playing it off.
"I forget, you don't get much entertainment in trucking besides the QuikTrip lot lizards out on I10."
He laughed. "I might be a trucker, but I'm not stupid." He sipped down the last bit of his coffee. "I'm not paying 20 dollars for a cheap ride and an STD."
"Yeah, but the girls down at the Boobie Bungalow give really good lap dances. I went there on a bachelorette trip once." The cook was just about done plating up his food, turning to put the two pieces of toast on his plate before handing it to him.
You bit your cheek to contain your laughter, scared it would come off as rude or too self-deprecatory. "There's not a lot of men around here to choose from."
"I get that. It's hard on the road."
Silence stretched between the two of you. Not necessarily uncomfortable, not comfortable either. Like you both just confirmed you were lonely as hell for no reason at all.
"Need anything else before you eat?"
With a nod, you excused yourself to the back to sneak towards the back door to take a breather. Maybe it was just because you haven't seen a truly attractive guy in a while, but you were acting like a damn fool.
The night air was still muggy, with gnats and mosquitoes hounding you the minute you made it out the door. Fumbling with your pack, you pulled out a singular Newport and lit the son of a bitch on fire.
The first inhale always made you drowsy, resting your forehead to your knees once you made a spot for yourself off the curb. Damn, he was hot! He was so damn hot. And here you were, outside smoking a cigarette like a true Waffle House waitress.
He could need a refill, he could need more butter, and yet you were outside smoking a cigarette. Should you go back and make conversation? No, let the poor man eat. He's probably been driving for hours.
You took another puff, flinging off your cap and running your hands through your sweat-strown hair.
Halfway through the cigarette, your entire body seized at the sound of a voice. "You always smoke when you have customers?"
You jerked your neck back, the man inside standing above you with an indifferent look.
"You said you didn't need anything."
"I didn't. I paid the cook."
You blinked, taking another drag. Was this guy about to chastise you on how to do your job?
He sat down beside you, passing you a five in between his fingers. "The last thing you can do for me is let me have a hit of that."
You sighed through your nose, more so out of relief before handing him the cigarette.
His fingers brushed yours in the exchange, slow and deliberate. His eyes stayed on you through his entire drag before handing it back to you. Another close contact exchange.
"Have you always lived here?"
You perked up, picking your cap up off the ground and sitting it in your lap before another slow hit. "Yeah. A lot of my family's from here... Don't seem 'em a lot, though."
"I get that." He meant it, staring out into the night of the empty lot.
You handed the cigarette back to him, figuring it was a conversation at this point. "What's it like, driving and stuff?"
He burnt the Newport down to the filter, smushing it into ash on the concrete below him.
That's what ended you in the position you were in right now. Feet tip-tapping against your temples, a twin mattress creaking underneath you, and the Greek god you just served an All-Star breakfast to minute ago pile driving into you.
"You're too fuckin' pretty for this small town." He husked into your ear, encapsulating your form with his own. Each sticky thrust threatened to peel your cervix open. "I could take you everywhere, anywhere you wanna go."
You whimpered, digging into the sheets. They wafted sweat, motor oil, and cigarette smoke. All things that would be disgusting in daylight, but intoxicating under the haze of your arousal. "Take me to the coast. I've never- oh fuck- I've never seen the beach."
"Anywhere you want." He repeated, abruptly pulling you up before flipping you over, shoving you face down into the mattress. He made you feel impossibly full, feeling his tip hit deep and prod out along your abdomen. "Anything for how fucking tight this pussy is."
Every word he said was another butterfly added to your stomach and another wave of slick gushing from your cunt.
"God, I can't get enough." He moaned, bruising his fingertips into the flesh of your hips. "Gonna make me look like a teenage boy on the first fuck."
"Are you saying there's gonna be more ah- ahead?" You tried to keep up with his taunts, drowning in your own euphoria.
He smirked, bending down to graze his teeth over your shoulder before biting down; hard. "Only if you'll let me." His pace became unfathomable, jackhammering down so hard your knees began to buckle.
"Fuck- Fuck- Holy shit I'm gonna cum." You choked out, pulling at the elastic at the corners of his mattress.
"That's it. Riiiight there, cum for me, pretty girl."
With one more particularly hard thrust, your cunt began uncontrollably fluttering around the man's cock above you, your clit buzzing from the pure dopamine surging through your veins. Anyone who was outside had to be hearing you; there was no way they couldn't.
The black-haired man soon chased you to orgasm, spurts of warmth coated deep between your walls until it leaked out from around it. Even as he came, you could feel the way his cock twitched inside. Thank God for birth control.
The cab of the truck soon settled to nothing but heavy breathing and the muffled sound of cicadas outside. The bed was dampened with sweat and cum, and both your cheeks flushed from a fuck the two of you had desperately been craving.
"What did you say your name was again?"
You laughed at his question, breathless. "Didn't ever read the name tag?"
You said your name, and he echoed it with his own.
"You're a good fuck, Toji," You sighed, sitting up to fish around for your work shirt. "But I think I've overstayed my smoke break."
He tutted, taking you by the crown of your hair and jerking you down to your knees, your hands clambering the floor for support. "Clean up your mess."
His dick was still half hard in front of you, twitching from just the sight of you down on your knees. God, he really was big. The entire shaft was covered in a cocktail of both yours and his cum.
Still, you opened your mouth wide, taking him in until you couldn't anymore, flattening your tongue against the length. You bobbed your head a few times to ensure a job well done, your nose tickled by the scruff of his pubes.
"Fucking filthy girl." Toji spoke above you, guiding your head into a few more strokes.
When he let you go, you bobbed your head off with a soft 'pop', buttoning your shirt back up to the collar and awkwardly putting back on your cap.
Toji slid back on his pants before slouching into the driver's seat, lighting one of his own cigarettes. Black Marlboro Reds.
"How much do you make in that shithole?" He asked, nodding his head over towards the building across the parking lot.
You shrugged. "Like, 100 a night? On good nights."
He huffed, almost as if it was offensive to him. "I make that in four hours." His eyes met yours, creased with only something you could describe as determination.
"You wanna see the west with me?"
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