ayo, fellow neurotypical

Pairing: John Munch x F!Reader

Tags: Oral (F receiving), PinV Sex, Service Top Munch, Munch being a D1 eater, Teasing, Older Man x Younger Woman (implied but it doesn’t make any difference), Slight Femdom

Rating: M

Summary: John has a bad habit of neglecting you in favor of his work during your quality time. Thankfully, you know how to get his attention.

Notes: Can be read as HLotS or SVU

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You hated when John brought work home. It was bad enough you rarely got to see when because of his job, you’d like to have some quality time with him uninterrupted.

“Johnnn,” you whine dramatically, intentionally dragging out his name in the way you know he hates, “Are you finished yet?” It had been approximately two hours since you’d arrived, and the two of you had barely said 20 words to each other. You don’t want to interrupt whatever he was doing because it was probably really important, but you were starting to get bored.

He hums, “Almost, just a minute sweetheart.”He pats your leg absentmindedly, head nowhere near the conversation. Technically, you are spending time together, the two of you are literally sitting on the couch not even inches away from each other, but he’s not really there. You roll your eyes, you don’t want to seem like a brat, but it’s getting ridiculous. “You said that 30 minutes ago.”

He sighs, “I know, I’m sorry, I just don’t want to miss anything.” You can hear a slight apologetic tone in his voice, but he doesn’t even look up from his papers. You huff a frustrated breath, getting up from the couch and going into the bedroom.

It’s frustrating being with a cop, let alone a detective, and even worse one as dedicated to his work as John. You know he works too hard, and part of you feels guilty for being upset. After all, he’s working to get justice for who knows how many women and children around the city who’ve been hurt, it’s a good thing that he’s giving it so much attention. But you’re important too, and you just want him to give himself a break. And maybe fuck you, you’d like that too.

Looking in the mirror, you contemplate getting your stuff and leaving. You could try to reschedule, but God knows when either of you will have the time. You’re just about to go tell him when an idea hits you.

If he won’t pay attention, I can make him pay attention

You remember the drawer he’d saved for you so you could keep some clothes for when you stayed over. Opening as quietly as you can, you dig through it for a bit until you find a lingerie set you had brought over a while ago. You know, in case of emergencies. You change into it, fixing your hair in the mirror before leaving the room. You hit the kitchen first, pouring yourself a glass of wine which you take into the living room.

John still doesn’t notice when you enter the room, which is fine, he’ll notice in a moment. You sit in the armchair opposite him, bringing your legs up to drape over the arm. You sip your wine, humming some song you can’t remember where you heard it from, giving your plan time to take effect.

It doesn’t take long for John to look up, likely to ask you to politely stop, but whatever he was going to say is caught in his throat at the sight of you. “What the hell…”

You hum, feigning ignorance, “Something wrong, John?”

He blinks rapidly, as though he’s trying to snap himself out of a dream. His grip on his papers tightens slightly, and for a moment he thinks he must’ve somehow died and went to Heaven in the middle of his paperwork. He knows the Jews don’t particularly believe in Heaven, but he imagines this is how he'd like it to be.

You frown, a fake apologetic look on your face, “Oh, I’m sorry, am I distracting you?”

He shakes his head slowly, as though in a trance. His eyes rake over your barely-clothed body, looking at you in a similar way to how a dog who hasn’t eaten in a week would look at a rare steak. “No, it can wait.” He starts to put the papers on the table, but you hold a hand up, stopping him.

“No, it can’t.” you say firmly. He wanted to focus on work? Then he’s going to fucking work. “Whoever’s case that is is important, John. You’ve been working so long, no need to break your momentum.”

He shakes his head, “Really, honey, it can wait.” His attention is fully on you now, but he’s not getting off that easy. You frown, tutting in disapproval, “No, you’ve only got–” you count the paper in his hands, “–four pages left, finish them.” You finish off your wine, setting the glass on the floor.

He has this tortured look on his face, but he knows he deserves this. He forces his eyes back on his work, trying unsuccessfully to ignore your presence. You get up from your seat, circling the couch and perching yourself on the back of it. You can tell his head is nowhere near whatever is on those papers and you bring your hand to his hair, burying your fingers in it and gently tugging, “Focus. These people deserve your full attention, Detective.”

A shiver runs through him at both your touch and your voice, and he lets out an odd, slightly choked-sounding noise. The obvious tent in his slacks is clear proof that your plan is working. He manages to get through one page, making some hurried notes in the margins before setting it on the stack on the coffee table. You can see some pages are longer than others, some mostly consisting of pictures and others with just words. You lean in, licking the shell of his ear, and he flushes a deep red. You drag your hands down to his shoulders, massaging, and he groans at the feeling of your fingers working out the tense muscles. He needs the relief, you just wish he would let himself want it.

He makes quicker work of the second and third pages, reading and annotating them thoroughly but also obviously trying to get them out of the way. Pleased with his efficiency, you place wet, open-mouthed kisses down his neck and loosen his tie to get better access. “Only one more, don’t quit now…”

He barely suppresses a moan, forcing himself to focus. After all, the long he takes to finish up, the more painful this experience will be. You undo the buttons of his shirt, using your newfound surface area to suck a hickey into his collarbone as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

John is horribly, painfully hard. You look at the paper in his shaking hands, and as if by some sick coincidence it has more text than any of the previous ones. You decide to alter your plan slightly, after all you need him to last long enough to actually fuck you when he’s done.

Laying off the physical approach, you hop off the back of the couch and go back to your spot in the armchair. John lets out a breath of relief, and you smile. He must think this shit is over. His eyes are still somewhat on you, so you angle yourself so you’re fully in his view before leaning back and sighing. “Honey…” You say breathily, bringing your hand up to your neck and slowly dragging it down to your bra, toying with the lace. “What paragraph are you on?”

He doesn’t even answer at first, just sits there staring at you with that hungry look. You’re good, it’s not often John Munch is speechless. You snap your fingers, knocking him out of his trance. “Two…”

You hum, your fingers slipping into your bra and gently rubbing your nipple. You moan softly, “How many are there?”

“S-six…”

“Oh, ok…” Leaving your nipples alone, you continue your descent down your chest and along your stomach until they reach the waistband of your thoroughly soaked panties. You slip past, bringing your fingers to your clit, rubbing it at an agonizingly slow pace. You whine softly, your eyes slipping shut at the feeling; it’s good but it isn’t enough. It isn’t John. You’re so caught up in your pleasure that you almost forget he’s there. Opening your eyes, you see him staring at you, frozen and practically drooling. Aka, not working. You shoot him a glare so palpable he’s surprised it didn’t send him bursting into flames. “John, stop fucking staring at me or I promise you I will put my clothes on and go fuck myself somewhere else.”

John’s not able to stop the whimper before it passes his lips. He hesitates before reluctantly turning his attention back to the sheet, a tortured look on his face. You continue to play with yourself, even going the extra mile as to moaning theatrically to make the experience worse for him. He’s watched you masturbate before and you’re never that vocal. Even though he can tell you’re playing it up for his own torture, it only manages to make him harder. He has to fight not to look at you, even going as far as removing his glasses in an attempt to negate the urge. It makes it slightly more difficult to read, but these are good slacks and he’d rather not ruin them.

Thankfully, he manages to finish before you do. He places the paper in the stack, probably rougher than he intended. He stands up and crosses the room to you in a few quick strides, dropping to his knees in front of you. Your eyebrows raise as he grabs your wrist and pulls your fingers out from between your legs only to put them into his mouth, licking your juices off of the digits. The sheer eroticism of the gesture takes you by surprise, but you don’t have much time to lament on it before he tugs your soaked panties to the side and dives face first into your pussy, his nose bumping your clit as he sinks his tongue into your folds just the way you like. You moan so loudly you’re sure the neighbors can hear, eyes crossing out of pure ecstasy. He lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, the hand not holding your panties to the side gripping your thigh. “Fuck, you taste good,” he groans, his breath warm against your entrance, “I’m so sorry for neglecting you…”

You can barely hear his apology over your own moans, your toes curling in pleasure. You only let it go one for a little while, because as much as you’d like for this to continue, you can feel yourself getting close and you didn’t do all this just to get some, albeit very good, oral. “J-John, stop.” You pull him away by the hair, and have to hold back a moan at the sight of him, hair ruined from its usual gelled style and mouth glistening with your slick.

As if he read your mind, he starts to undo his belt as you push yourself out of the chair and onto his lap, immediately going to undo the rest of the buttons of his shirt. You get his shirt off of him just as he pulls himself out of his slacks, precum dripping from his tip. So much for the slacks… You waste no time lifting your hips, lining him up with your entrance before sinking down, a choked cry leaving your lips at the stretch of his cock inside you. John moans filthily, your walls squeezing perfectly around his length. Neither of you can speak, too blissed out by the feeling of each other. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before gripping you, guiding your hips to rock against his. You ride him steadily, your two bodies moving together in sync as though you two were made for each other. He kisses you, firmly but simultaneously gentle as you’ve ever felt, your tongues swirling together in a heated, erotic dance.

You whine at the burn in your quads and John, who’s stronger than he looks by the way, takes over, lifting and lowering you up and down, the sound of your ass colliding with his pelvis filling the room. He lays back on the floor to better thrust up into you and you lean forward, bracing yourself on the floor above his shoulder. This isn’t necessarily the most comfortable position and he’ll definitely be paying for it later, but God is it worth it.

You’ve been together for a while and have had a lot of sex, so you’re at the point in your relationship that both of you can tell when the other is about to cum, and that moment is fast approaching. You pick up the pace, trying to keep up your momentum as you feel yourself reaching your peak. You climax first, sparkles appearing in your vision as the orgasm runs through your body. John follows soon after, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he spills into you with a cry. Coming down from your high, the adrenaline wearing off also saps you of whatever strength you had left. You collapse onto his heaving chest, your breaths syncing in shared exhaustion.

The two of you just lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow. You probably should move to the bedroom or something, but neither of you can find it in you to move right now, so floor it is. After a few minutes you hear him sigh, “I really am sorry, I know what little quality time we have together is sacred but our caseload’s just been so heavy.” He strokes a finger up and down between your shoulderblades, lazily playing with the end of your hair. He actually feels bad, and he would never want you to feel unappreciated or neglected, and he hates that he didn’t notice how you felt until you forced him to pay attention.

You hum, in your opinion the sex was apology enough. “It’s alright,” you say, shrugging. You sit up and lift your hips off of him, stifling a groan at the newfound emptiness as you settle back on his lap. You smile down at him, playing with the hem of his undershirt, “You should probably go over those last few pages though, I might’ve impaired your judgement.”

Pairing: John Munch x F!Reader

Tags: Slice of Life, HLotS, Based on Episode

Summary: Your boyfriend, John, learns a lesson to never underestimate how crazy his exes can be

Notes: Based on s3 e15: Law & Disorder; There's basically no plot I wrote this cuz I was bored idc

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John wanted to melt into the floor. Like, he literally would if he could. Now don’t get him wrong, he isn’t ashamed of his… assets, in fact he tends to be pretty proud of them. But being exposed for everyone to see, especially against his will, is not something he would like to have on his so far semi-spotless reputation, especially in his line of work. 

You’d had a pretty easy day at work, and since you both got off early you and John decided to spend the evening together. He’d told you to meet him outside the station so you got there at the time he’d said, but he wasn’t there. You’re about to go look for him inside when you spot him across the street, walking out from a building that you can’t remember ever going in. The change in location is odd enough, but John looks upset. You cross over to him, frowning at his annoyed expression. “What’s up your ass?”

He gives you a tired look, which only sours after a woman passes behind you, snickering. This wouldn’t have been remarkable had said snickering not seemed to have been directed at John. You shoot her a glare over your shoulder and she walks faster, her shoulder subtly shaking with suppressed laughter. It could have been written off as a coincidence had another few people not walked out of the building, amused grins spreading across their faces at the sight of you two. You look back at John in confusion, “Is there a joke I’m not in on or something?”

He sighs, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the building he had just come out of. He leads you down a hallway and stops once you reach the back wall. “John, where are we-” you look up at the wall in front of you, “Oh. Wow.”

You’ve seen John naked before, both in person and in pictures, but never a wall-sized image in public. The picture’s visibly old, in fact you’ve never seen him with his hair that long. If it weren’t for the pretty sizable elephant in the room, that would probably be the most surprising part of the picture for you. 

Looking over at him, he genuinely looks like he could disintegrate into thin air at any moment if he had the ability, blushing with what you can infer is shame. John’s not the kind of guy to get easily embarrassed, but he’s also pretty private, you kind of feel sorry for him, even a little angry. After all, as far as you’re concerned, those are your assets too, nobody should have the opportunity to look at them but you and him. “Who did this? And where’d they get this picture?”

“One of my exes with a grudge, it’s her collection. I seriously don’t even remember taking this, I was probably high.” He huffs out a breath, “I can’t believe she would do this, it’s been like 25 years!”

Ok, maybe you understand the woman from before. Whatever he did must’ve been pretty heinous. You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing, “Jesus, John, what did you do to that girl?”

He shrugs, hesitating before answering, “We dated for a while before I went to the academy, I was an asshole, we had a fight and I left while she was asleep.” There’s an ashamed tone to his voice, at least he seems somewhat remorseful. “Not saying I was right to do that, but I had a feeling something was off about her and I’m seeing my intuition was right.”

You’re quiet for a moment. You kind of understand her, it was a dick move and you’d want revenge too, but maybe not like this. After all, it’s been decades, he’s not the person he was in college. The comedy of the situation is undeniable though, and you attempt to suppress your laughter, to no avail. He looks at you in offense, “This isn’t funny! How would you feel if your privacy was blown up and plastered on a wall for all to see?”

You smile, still amused at the situation. “Okay, I’m sorry. But to be honest you kind of had it coming. Besides, don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic? This gallery isn’t exactly well known, it can’t have been seen by that many people.”

He looks at you blankly, “It’s in the paper.”

“...oh.” Yeah, the distress is understandable. “Does your squad know?”

He feigns a laugh, “Do they? There's flyers advertising it everywhere, they found out before I did. Of course they think it’s hilarious, especially Meldrick. Even Stan knows, his ex-wife brought a copy to the hospital to read to him. I don’t even know how I’ll face him, none of them will ever take me seriously again.”

John takes off his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, “I’m the laughingstock of the precinct,” he says, “Everyone I pass on the street looks at me like they’ve seen my Johnson, which they have, mind you! My reputation in this city is ruined, I’ll have to buy a disguise and change my identity!”

“John, calm down.” You roll your eyes affectionately, “I really think you’re overreacting, it’s only in one gallery, and I guarantee the whole city isn’t coming over here to see your… exhibition. Can’t you ask the gallery to take it down, like for privacy reasons? There’s gotta be a rule against that or something”

He sighs, “They said I have to ask Brigitta, something about artist’s privilege. Even the curator I asked about it couldn’t look at me without laughing. The official opening is tonight, I’ll try to appeal to her better nature there.”

You nod, patting him lightly on the back. “See? Problem potentially solved.” He still has that depressed look on his face, so you kiss him on the cheek, “I’ll even come with you, for moral support.”

He shrugs and the two of you turn to leave, still being met with amused glances and quiet laughter from the people you pass on your way out. You lean in, whispering, “You know what though?

He looks down at you, “What?”

SVU as lyrics from every Taylor Swift album: TTPD

John Munch - ‘Down Bad’

Pairing: John Munch x F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Older Man x Younger Woman

Summary: John's had a rough week of cases, you help him unwind.

Notes: Part 1 of 2; Can be read as either SVU or HLotS idc rlly

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John Munch hadn’t slept in 48 hours.

That wasn’t the longest he had ever gone without sleep, but getting older also means not being able to just pull consecutive all nighters. What could he say, an old man needs his sleep. And trust, he was feeling it. Everything hurt, his hair felt greasy, his eyelids felt like sandpaper, and every article of clothing on him felt like it weighed 15 pounds.

When he arrived home he was prepared to disconnect the phone, fall into bed, and spend his next few days off in peace. However, this wonderful plan was thwarted when he was surprised, although not unpleasantly, by you, waiting for him on the couch.

“Honey, what are you doing here? And what are you doing up? It's 2:30 in the morning.”

You frown, feigning offense in an unsuccessful attempt to resist a smile, “Gee, hello to you too, light of my life.” You get up and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He sighs and smiles, kissing you chastely on the lips in greeting. You hum, “How’re you holding up?

John sighs, resting his head on top of yours, “I haven’t slept in two days and I’m wound up like a damn jack-in-the-box, so I’d say I’m peachy.”

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm but don’t say anything, after these past few days he deserves to be irritated. You take off his coat for him, hanging it up on the coat rack in the corner. “You hungry?”

He shakes his head, pushing up his glasses and rubbing his eyes, “No, I ate at the station.” He takes off his tie and starts to unbutton his shirt before you move his hands away, undoing it for him. Taking it off, you smooth your hands over his shoulders, feeling the tension. “Jesus old man, you need a vacation.”

He laughs tiredly, “Yeah, tell that to the perps.” He really must be tired, because normally he would not have let the old man comment slide. You give him another kiss, taking off his watch and belt. You notice his shoes, which are slightly scuffed and have a small stain of… something on them. He’s probably noticed but he hasn’t said anything so either he doesn’t know or he’s too tired to care. Now Tired, Worn-Out Munch may not give a damn, but Awake Munch? He will care, and he’ll probably bitch about it for the next few days, so it’s best to take care of it sooner rather than later. “Go shower, leave your shoes outside the door, I’ll clean them for you tomorrow.”

John considers replying with the usual “two in one saves water” but decides against it, he’d be too tired for anything fun like that tonight anyway. He disappears down the hall and into the bathroom and you head to the bedroom, picking up his shoes on the way. 

You throw them haphazardly in the closet, they’ll be dealt with later. You showered when you got here, so you put everything else where it needs to be and change into sleep clothes. Going into the kitchen, you quickly make some tea before returning to the bedroom, putting it on the bedside table for when he’s done in the. He probably won’t drink it, but you’d like for him to have the option if he wants it.

John emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later in his pajamas, hair damp and looking to have somewhat more life in him than when he first came home. He sits on the bed with a heavy sigh, any energy he had left when he arrived seems to have been drained from him. You crawl up behind him, putting your hands on his shoulders and massaging, working out the knots and tension under your fingers. He moans almost erotically, your hands feeling like what he imagines crack to feel like when you smoke it. That’s probably extreme but he doesn’t care. You reach around him and take off his glasses, folding in the arms and placing them on the bedside table. To your pleasure, he even drinks some of the tea, humming as the warmth soothes the aches in his body. “You’re too good to me, sweetheart.”

You hum, playing with the silky hair at the back of his neck. It’s getting kind of long, and he would probably say he needs a haircut but you don’t care, you like it longer and you’ll try to keep it that way as long as you can. “You work too hard, you deserve for someone to be good to you, John.”

He feels something akin to tears threatening to rise in him and resists it, attributing whatever it is to a lack of sleep and hence impaired emotional function. He settles for kissing you, deeply this time. There’s no real heat to it, both of you know he doesn’t have the energy. It’s lazy, but it’s sweet, and it’s just what both of you want and need right now, communicating his appreciation for you without words.

You pull away, smiling, and the two of you lay down under the covers, John reaching over you to turn off the lamp on the bedside table. In the quiet dark, the two of you adjust until you're slotted together comfortably, your legs tangled and your head on his chest. There’s silence for a moment before you hear a quiet “..thank you.”

You smile softly, “You don’t have to thank me, John.”

“I don’t care, I’m thanking you anyway.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes fondly. “Go to sleep. You’ve got two days off and nothing to do, if anyone class I’ll tell them to fuck off.”

He huffs a laugh, his job probably wouldn’t like it, but it’s what they deserve if they have the nerve to call him in on one of the only breaks he gets out of the year. He kisses you on the forehead before closing his eyes. “I love you, goodnight.”

He probably doesn’t stay awake long enough to hear you respond, but it doesn’t matter. “‘Night, love you too.”