Impractical Jokers: [Joker]xReader Collection

Joe x Reader - What's For Breakfast?

[PROFESSOR X STUDENT!]

Waking up in a bed that isn't your own is surprisingly less stressful than you thought it would be. Sunlight streams through the curtains and your moan is indication enough that you've been dragged awake before your time. When you roll over and nothing is beside you excluding ruffled bed sheets, you surmise that it's time to get up - if only to find the ex- occupant in the bed.

Throwing on a shirt - one that you realise is his and not yours once it's up and over you - and sliding underwear up your legs, you trail down the stairs, hand feeling curiously along walls you'd never had a chance to see the night previous. Such an odd concept, being in your Professor's house... but he's human before he's a teacher and there's nothing stopping you from loving it here.

When you peek your head around various doors (a kitchen, a downstairs bathroom, even a utility cupboard) and don't find him, you suppose he's in the living room. And there he is, sat in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, his nose buried in a newspaper. Arms hook loosely behind your back and when he looks up and notices you his lips twitch into a fine smirk.

"Good mornin', [Y/N]," Joe chirps, slowly folding his newspaper over and setting it on the chair arm before sliding off of the seat to stand up. Approaching you with slow steps, sock-clad toes brushing your own as he pressed a soft kiss to your mouth, you relax into him. The taste of coffee on his breath has you humming with delight, something you wouldn't have done months ago when the smell of it had been enough to make you displeased with your surroundings.

"Morning," you reply, tone slick with sleep as he guides you with warm fingers on your thighs to sit on his lap. The soft material of his pyjama pants has you snuggling into his warmth, eyes slipping closed again as he unfolds his paper and begins to read once more. Neck cranes to see what he's reading, what stories are 'hot'... but nothing holds your interest because the media lies and it is with slight vindication that you press a stream of steady kisses to the sun-kissed skin of his neck. "I'm loving your shirt. It's a good look for me."

Professor Gatto chuckles softly, lets his paper slip to the floor before a warm palm settles on your lower back and draws slow circles. Teeth latch lightly onto his skin, leaving soft red marks before you pull away to inspect your handiwork; Joe looks divine, all yours in the morning sun.

"My clothing is a good look for ya, yeah," the man agrees, turning his head and letting you press your mouth gently to his before he shifts on the chair to be able to kiss you properly. Your lips once, then burying into your neck and shifting disheveled hair aside before peppering butterfly kisses along the expanse of skin. "Lovin' it. Makes ya look sexy."

"Are you saying I'm not usually sexy?"

He chuckles suavely, a fond smile on his lips. "Damn you and your affinity for the laws of presumption. I never said that, baby."

"Down, boy." And you both laugh with one another before your Professor begins to get more heated. You remind him tirelessly that it's a day on the clock, that you're both due in university by ten and it's quickly approaching eight-thirty and neither of you have eaten yet. Thankfully it isn't a long drive... but you could do without your panties being wet so early in the morning when you're going to have to ride out the entire day before you get to be intimate with him again.

"You like that?" he breathes as he trails kisses down to your breasts (having tugged the too-big shirt's neck-line to sit tightly beneath them) and circles a nipple teasingly with his tongue. You moan for him before leaning in close and nibbling at his ear. A breath is taken as hands trail down your front and head for the place you want him most.

"...what's for breakfast?"

The Professor's movements pause, breath held... before he's laughing hard into the skin of your chest, form going limp as he tries to adjust himself. The master of timing when it came to terrible planning, he constantly falls victim to your deadpan punchlines.

"Well I'll tell ya," Joe sputters, picking his head up so that he can kiss you on the forehead before standing up. "I'm never gonna get tired'a  wakin' up to this."