Waking up beside the queen of hearts, wasn't on your bingo card, yet here you were, naked, tangled in sheets.. The floor beside you covered in your clothes.. And hers, you weren't sure if you were to stay, or run.. After all, she IS a tyrant..
After a good hour of fighting with yourself...You decided to leave, getting dressed and running off back to the servant quarters.. Afraid she would remember and punish you for that.. You didn't mention it, you went on your day, cleaning, sweeping, the usual... When you felt a hand on your hip. Long fingers gripping. Not holding, gripping, like claws.
"what is that?" she asked you, you barely had time to answer when her hand turned your jaw looking at her. In the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall, you saw a perfectly purple hickey, almost in the shape of a heart..
You could feel the smirk on her face, her thumb pressing onto the little bruise... You felt warm.. Like a damp pooling between your thighs, still.. You clamp your thighs together, and speak "im not sure.. Your highness.."
Her hand was warm through the thin layer of silk you wore, one hand running up your thighs, she pinned you agains the wall, "I quite liked it last night, the way you called for me... Do it again" she commanded like you're some sort of animal...
Her mouth was on yours in seconds, silencing any thought you had, any power you even dared to think of? Gone. Right now, she owned it all, every thought and breath.. Every gasp and moan you let out, no matter HOW quiet, she owned it all.
You weren't really sure when you got to her bed.. Nor when she removed your clothes... But you weren't objecting. You couldn't, not when you desired this so much.. She looked vulnerable without her crown, and her intimidating Red gown gone, discarded on the floor beside you apron you had lost while she had removed your clothes
Her hands found your chest, cupping and groping the breast, she was teasing, taunting what power she had. Her mouth finding your in a searing kiss, tongues fighting.. Well.. Hers claiming, yours just going along..
"Bridget~" you whine out, using her name fueled her even more, she forced your thighs apart, fingers playing with your slick, you didn't know whether to cry in frustration.. Or thank her for this...
Eventually, she made a little tut noise... "Oh pet, your so shiny, like a pretty little jewel" your heart did flips, as her mouth was on your dripping heat, it was messy, hands in her hair, as her tongue spelt her name. HER name. She was owning you, in every sence, your moans and mewls egged her on, fingers working inside you, hitting that pretty little gem as her tongue lapped eagerly at the always forming slick... Till... You couldn't hold on any longer, thighs closing around her head as you came.. Breathless, arching, she adored it, she adored you...
Pairing: Olivia Benson x Dana Evans x Emily Prentiss x Reader
Warnings: fingering, oral, strap ons, toys, dom/sub dynamics, age gap (reader is late 20s)- specifics will be to added on the actual post.
Sneak peak:
There was a certain hatred in your soul for fundraising galas- well, not when you said it like that. You loved fundraisers, especially when it came to important causes. It was why you took this job in the first place: Project Manager for the National Trauma Informed Care and Victim Advocacy Agency .
However, there had been an oversight regarding how involved you’d need to be in the actual fundraiser, and being involved where there were influential people seemed like a nightmare.
What was usually a to-do list of coordinating and ensuring the fundraiser ran the way it was supposed to from behind the scenes had turned into finding the right outfit, looking fancy enough to fit in, greeting and ensuring all the guests had what they needed, while liaising with the representatives for each branch of involved personnel. You were starting to really hate the past version of yourself who had said, “Yes, of course, I’d love to be the one in charge of this fundraiser.”
There were a few trainee coordinators who would help with the fundraiser as it ran tonight, especially with the guests. You were in charge of them too, and while you trusted the trainees, the one table you did not trust them with was the Honouree Table.
You stood in the empty gala room, looking at the place cards on the Honouree Table:
FBI BAU Section Chief, Ms. Emily Prentiss
SVU Captain, Ms. Olivia Benson
PTMC Charge and SANE Nurse, Mrs. Dana Evans
Yeah. Definitely not leaving this one to the trainees.
Emily Prentiss, Olivia Benson, and Dana Evans were the honourees of the fundraiser. When the fundraiser idea first came around, these women had been put forward to receive recognition for their work.
Emily Prentiss for the Interagency Victim Protection Award.
Olivia Benson for the Survivor Advocacy and Protection Award.
Dana Evans for the Trauma Care Leadership Award.
It was your job tonight to ensure everything ran smoothly for these women.
Which had stressed you out approximately three times, every day.
Quick rundown of my Olivia Benson projects | Law and Order SVU
FANFICTION
AGENT GRAY :
Olivia Benson x fem! FBI Agent OC (Alexis Gray)
Over 40+ chapters — Still in progress
On Tumblr, Wattpad and AO3
Connected to the current series timeline - starts at season 18
OUTSIDE THE LIE :
Olivia Benson x fem! FBI Agent OC (Elysia Harking)
Only ONE Chapter — On a break
On Tumblr and Wattpad
I may remove it or rework it
ONESHOTS
THIN ICE
MORE UPCOMING OS
IDEAS
OUR THING : Y/N is Olivia's first love, way back when in college. Although they never really lost sight of each other, Y/N never wanted to impose its military rhythm on Olivia. One day, as Olivia needs her, Y/N drops everything to join her in NY.
WORK FOR YOU : One evening, Sergeant Y/N Y/L/N introduces herself to Olivia at the Special Victims Unit premises. Olivia soon realizes there's a reason behind all this.
EVIL : The only person connected to an old case is the daughter of a dead serial rapist and killer. Locked up for years, she is SVU's only hope.
BACK : Olivia's adopted daughter, now a medical sergeant in the Special Forces, returns from a mission and surprises her mother.
I KNEW YOU : During an investigation, Olivia realizes that a detective she once had a relationship with is now in the midst of an illegal fight.
NEIGHBOR : Olivia and Y/N have been neighbors for a while, until they were more.
A MED THING: Olivia takes a liking to Melinda’s new recruit as medical examiner, and insisting on visiting the morgue herself just to chat with the young woman.
CHIN UP, SOLDIER : Captain Olivia Benson leads an investigation at an army training base, only to realize that the strongest soldier is also the one with the darkest secret.
LOSS : Y/N's death has affected the whole department, the unit, but especially Olivia, who can't seem to come to terms with her grief.
Hey, it's me again with another Captain Benson request!
First I want to say that I love your fics 😍 could write you writean Olivia x Reader where the reader is super feminine and into the world of makeup (lolita, gyaru...) and Olivia feels forced to maintain a heteronormative act where she adapts to the "masculine" role until the reader realizes and starts to help her with this, that no matter what clothes she wears, or what profession she has, the two are in a sapphic relationship and there is nothing more "feminine" than being a woman?
I'm listening to Woman by Doja Cat hehehehe gave me this inspiration.
a/n: thank you for requesting this, I hope it's somewhat what you had in mind
summary: read it above
pairing: Olivia Benson x female reader
warnings: none
word count: 733
masterlist
Femininity - Olivia Benson
The room smelled of vanilla and jasmine, the faint scent of your favorite candle burning on the windowsill. You stood in front of the mirror, carefully applying the last touches of blush to your cheeks. Your pink, ruffled dress fluttered lightly as you moved, the lace at the hem brushing against your legs. Olivia sat across the room on your couch, still in her SVU blazer and slacks. She watched you with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“You look beautiful, Y/N,” she said, voice soft but distant.
“Thank you,” you replied, setting down the brush and turning to her. You could feel her gaze lingering on your rhinestone-encrusted nails, the pastel palette of your clothes, and the oversized bow perched atop your perfectly styled hair. “Are you sure you don’t want to dress up too? You’d look gorgeous in something like this.”
Olivia chuckled, low and almost hesitant. “This isn’t really my thing, you know? I don’t think I could pull it off like you do.”
You frowned slightly but didn’t push. It wasn’t the first time she’d deflected when you suggested she try something different from her usual wardrobe of power suits and muted tones.
Olivia’s role as a detective, as the strong, stoic protector, had always been a defining part of who she was, but lately, you’d noticed something was off. She seemed to be trying harder to fit into the “masculine” role in your relationship - opening every door, insisting on paying for every meal, even avoiding soft touches in public. At first, you thought it was sweet, her way of taking care of you, but now it felt forced.
“Liv,” you said, stepping closer and sitting beside her. “You know you don’t have to act a certain way around me, right?”
Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her features. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “You’ve been putting yourself in this box, like you need to be the ‘man’ in the relationship. But we’re both women. I love you for who you are, not because you’re trying to play some role.”
She looked away, her jaw tightening. “It’s not that simple, Y/N. I’m used to being strong, being the one people rely on. And with you…” She glanced at your soft, glittery appearance, her voice dropping. “I don’t want people to think I’m not enough for you. That I’m not feminine enough for you.”
Your heart broke at her words. You reached out, taking her hand in yours, the contrast between your delicate, manicured fingers and her calloused ones a poignant reminder of your different worlds.
“Olivia,” you said gently, “there’s nothing more feminine than being a woman. It doesn’t matter if you’re in a suit or a dress, if you’re wearing makeup or not. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me.”
She met your gaze, vulnerability shining in her dark eyes. “It’s just… you’re so beautiful, Y/N. So soft, so confident in who you are. Sometimes I feel like I don’t measure up.”
You squeezed her hand. “You’re beautiful too, Liv. In your own way. And you don’t have to change a thing about yourself for me to love you. But if you ever do want to explore a different side of yourself, I’m here for that too. We can try things together, figure it out. No judgment.”
For the first time that evening, her smile was genuine. “You mean that?”
“Of course I do,” you said, standing and tugging her to her feet. “Now, let’s start small. How about we paint your nails? Just something subtle to start with.”
Olivia chuckled, the sound lighter now. “You’re not going to rest until you get me into pink, are you?”
You grinned. “I’m very persuasive.”
She followed you to the vanity, letting you guide her into the chair. As you painted her nails a soft, neutral shade with a touch of shimmer, the tension in her shoulders melted away.
By the end of the night, Olivia wasn’t just wearing nail polish, she was smiling, laughing, and letting herself be vulnerable with you. And as you curled up together on the couch, her arms around you and your head on her shoulder, you knew that together, you were breaking down the walls of expectation and redefining what it meant to be feminine, strong, and in love.
at home, while you were still trying to rub the sleep out of your eyes, clutching the covers to your chest, your lips were salty, your saliva drying and crusting over your lips. she wasn't disgusted, or found it odd- she could barely notice it next to how salty and unpleasant her own mouth tasted like.
thirty minutes ago, when the two of you wandered into the snack room, you tasted sweet just as sweet as her lips because of the sweet red berry jam-filled donut she scarfed down, not being able to resist you or the fried dough. it wasn't much of a disappointment when she tasted the hints of the bitter coffee you just poured yourself, the slight taste of it as you were trying to get the sugar right with only a spoonful of coffee dripping down your tongue, with a hint of the tic tac mints you were chewing on before- it was barely the middle of the day, and everybody was still boozing up with coffee. you giggled as she pulled away, licking her lips and teeth to find the lingering patches of flavor.
now she looks at you and wonders, how your lips taste like right now. she stares, her eyes following the smallest motions you make above the frame of her glasses and through the window of her office. watching as you move the coffee cup from one hand to the other, how you nod before taking a quick sip, looking down at your chest slightly anxious that a drop had stained your shirt, but it didn't so you go back to chatting with fin worry-free.
it must be the coffee still and whatever you had for lunch before you came back to the precinct. she thinks to herself.
she stands up and at first, gets scared of the idea of disturbing you, so she steps to someone else's desk and asks if they saw some sort of case file she just made up. she wasn't planning to disturb your workflow, but you didn't seem to mind when she walked up next to you.
olivia smiles, as you turn your head towards her, saying "good morning captain" before wrapping up your discussion about a video game with fin, letting the two of them go and have their chat about whatever case the man was working on. she wishes she knew how your lips tasted like right now, with the glint of lip balm and the coffee you were so carefully drinking, the lunch you just finished.
a/n. now this was a bit rambly and idk where I was really going with it, but it's soft olivia stuff and can't hide that I love it
could you write a really domestic fic f reader x olivia where she arrives tired from a day of work and their daughter is agitated, reader is tired and still making dinner and when she sees that reader is going to freak out she starts running with her daughter down the house and play hide-and-seek to lighten the reader's weight?
a/n: thank you for your request, I hope you like it :)
summary: read it above
pairing: Olivia Benson x female reader
warnings: none
word count: 1.1K
masterlist
Teamwork - Olivia Benson
The familiar click of the door unlocking made you glance up from the pot of pasta simmering on the stove. Olivia was home. You felt a pang of relief and exhaustion all at once, the kind that comes after an endlessly long day when you’ve been counting the minutes for backup to arrive. Your backup was Olivia.
“Mommy!” your four-year-old daughter, Sophie squealed from her spot on the kitchen floor, where she’d been playing with her blocks. She scrambled up on her tiny legs, her earlier frustration over a misplaced piece completely forgotten as she dashed to greet Olivia.
“Hi, sweetheart!” Olivia’s voice, though tired, softened instantly. She scooped Sophie up in her arms and peppered her face with kisses. For a moment, you felt the tension in your shoulders start to dissipate, until the shrill sound of boiling water overflowing brought you back to reality.
“Crap,” you muttered, quickly turning the burner down and grabbing a towel to clean the mess.
“Hey,” Olivia said, stepping into the kitchen with your daughter still clinging to her like a little monkey. “You okay?”
You glanced at her, a half-smile on your face, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah. Just… she’s been cranky all day, I’m behind on dinner, and I didn’t even get a chance to clean up the mess in the living room. It’s fine.”
Olivia frowned, immediately recognizing the brittle edge to your voice. “Y/N…”
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing past her to drain the pasta. You could feel the pressure building behind your eyes, a familiar burn warning you that you were moments away from losing it. But there wasn’t time. Dinner wasn’t going to cook itself.
Olivia set Sophie down, kissed her forehead, and whispered something in her ear. Before you could ask what she was up to, Olivia clapped her hands together dramatically.
“Alright, kiddo! Let’s go. We’re playing hide and seek!”
Sophie’s face lit up. “Really?”
“Really. Go hide, and I’ll come find you. And remember, the tickle monster is coming!” Olivia growled playfully, wiggling her fingers. Sophie shrieked with laughter and took off down the hallway.
“Liv, you don’t have to..” you started, but she cut you off with a kiss to your temple.
“I’ve got it,” she said softly, her brown eyes warm despite the weariness in them. “You just finish dinner, okay?”
And with that, she took off down the hall, calling out, “Where’s my little troublemaker hiding? Hmm, I wonder if she’s under the bed..”
The sound of your daughter’s giggles echoed through the house, and for the first time all day, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.
You turned back to the stove, the corners of your mouth tugging up into a genuine smile as you listened to Olivia and your daughter’s antics. A crash from the living room followed by Olivia’s exaggerated gasp told you they’d moved their game there.
“Is she behind the couch? No? Oh no, she must have disappeared forever!” Olivia’s dramatic tone had you chuckling under your breath.
By the time dinner was ready, Olivia came back into the kitchen carrying the little girl, who was red faced and breathless from laughing. “I found her,” Olivia said, grinning.
“I wasn’t even hiding!” Sophie declared proudly, making you and Olivia laugh.
As you set the plates on the table, Olivia leaned in close, her hand brushing yours. “You’re amazing, you know that?” she murmured.
You met her gaze, the warmth in her expression chasing away the last remnants of your stress. “So are you.”
Dinner that night was chaotic. Sophie refused to eat her vegetables, and Olivia ended up with pasta sauce on her shirt but it was also full of laughter.
After you’d tucked your daughter into bed, the house finally felt still. You leaned against the doorway of her room, watching her tiny chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath. Olivia stood behind you, her arms slipping around your waist as she rested her chin on your shoulder.
“She’s out cold,” Olivia murmured, her voice low and warm. “We must’ve worn her out.”
You smiled softly, leaning back into her. “You saved the day,” you admitted. “I was this close to losing it.” You held your fingers an inch apart for emphasis, though the weight of earlier stress still lingered in your chest.
Olivia turned you gently in her arms, her hands finding your waist. “Hey,” she said softly, her brow furrowing in that way that made you feel like you were the only thing in the world she cared about at that moment. “You’re allowed to lose it sometimes. It’s okay.”
Your eyes began to sting again, but this time it wasn’t from frustration. It was the overwhelming sense of being seen, of being held, not just physically but emotionally. “I just.. I hate feeling like I can’t do it all, you know?”
Olivia cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing gently against your skin. “You don’t have to do it all, Y/N. That’s why I’m here. We’re a team. And you’ve been carrying so much, on top of everything else, you still managed to make dinner and take care of her all day. You’re incredible.”
Her words cracked something open inside you, and before you could stop yourself, the tears spilled over. Olivia didn’t say anything, just pulled you close, tucking your head against her shoulder as her hand stroked soothing circles on your back.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”
You stayed like that for a while, the quiet hum of the house wrapping around you both like a blanket. Eventually, Olivia guided you to the couch, where she pulled you down beside her. She didn’t ask if you wanted tea or try to suggest ways to fix things, she just held you, her arms strong and steady, her presence a balm for your frayed nerves.
“I know I don’t say it enough,” you murmured against her shoulder, your voice thick with lingering emotion. “But thank you. For everything.”
“You say it more than you think,” she replied, her lips brushing your hair. “And even if you didn’t, I’d still be here.”
The quiet comfort of the moment stretched out, and as Olivia’s hand found yours, lacing your fingers together, you felt your chest loosen for the first time all day.
As you leaned into Olivia’s warmth and let her hold you, it didn’t feel so overwhelming. You weren’t alone. You never would be.
Summary: Olivia has been away for a case longer than both of you would like. The reunion has you both grasping for the sheets.
Warnings: Mirror sex, first time smut, fingering, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms
A/N: Yes, the smut portion of this fic is finally here. Collab fic with @impossiblewolf
Previous Chapter-Next Chapter
Masterlist
4.2k
It’s been days since you felt her presence. You know that the phone call must have been serious for her to leave in such an abrupt manner, but you can’t help but wonder if she has been avoiding you because she has regrets. There is a little voice in the back of your head that questions if she really wants you to move in with her. You wait for her to visit, but she doesn’t. You even stake outside the precinct, but the only person you see leave is Amaro, her partner, who you have already come to dislike from the thoughts that he has about Olivia. No one should be thinking about her naked but you.
It takes all your self-control not to strangle the man, a side effect of the strained bond, but the anger becomes overtaken by the fear that follows when you can’t feel her within the city limits. You search the limits of your bond, trying to find her, but instead, you feel nothing. At least when you two were arguing, you could still pinpoint where she was. This is a kind of absence that makes your skin crawl.
Your final resort is to wait outside her apartment door. Her scent is faint, showing that she has not been inside in a couple of days, but you don’t know where else to wait for her. You sit with your back pressed against the door, being completely ignored by all of her neighbors who walk by. You don’t know how long you sit there before it becomes overstimulating.
The scents of every human in the building try to push their way past Olivia’s scent, which you attempt to cling to. You can smell her faintly under the door, but mostly you have been keeping one of her shirts pressed to your nose. She “accidentally” left it the other day when she slipped on your shirt to head out after her call. The smell is fading, but it is enough to keep you at bay while you wait. You just hope that she shows up sooner rather than later.
Your forehead presses against your knees, trying to block out everything, when the elevator dings. Normally, you ignore it, but this time you can smell the person who steps off the platform. Your eyes shoot up to find Olivia running an anxious hand through her curls. Her thoughts bombard you in an onslaught of panicked thoughts. She is exhausted from the case, but mostly she is terrified about you.
She is going to think I changed my mind about her moving in. She is going to think I left her, but I couldn’t get the asshole to confess. If only she had a fucking cellphone, I could have called her. What do I do? Where is she going to be?
You shoot to your feet, suddenly nervous as her gaze locks on yours. She blinks rapidly as if confirming that you are actually standing there and then breaks out into a sprint. She hurdles her body into you, and your arms immediately wrap around her. You breathe her in, letting the ache in your chest settle.
“You’re really here,” she whispers, her hands desperately clinging to your neck. “I was just about to go looking for you.”
“I am,” you mumble. “I'm sorry for intruding on your space and showing up unannounced. I just…I hadn't seen you in a couple of days. I wanted to make sure you were safe…and it sounds so silly now.”
“It isn’t silly at all,” she reassures you, never once loosening her grip. “I have been worried about you, too. I didn’t want you to think that I had changed my mind, but I couldn’t tell you that because you don’t have a phone.”
Your nose curls at the mention of the futuristic technology. “You mean those little brainwashing machines that everyone carries around in their pockets? Sounds awful.”
Olivia can’t help the laughter that spills out of her. “I love you.”
Your vision blurs, and a thrumming starts under your skin. The bond that was starting to disintegrate due to the distance comes back stronger. Soon, Olivia is all that you can smell, her presence trumping every other human in the building. You feel the beating of her heart as if it were your own.
“Say it again,” you say, convinced that you must have misheard her.
“I love you,” Olivia repeats, her cheeks burning a dark shade of red.
“Not as much as I love you,” you respond before smashing your lips to hers.
The kiss is frantic, teeth crashing, until you tug down on her bottom lip. She lets out a large moan, which shoots right to your core. It also makes you realize how exposed you both are. You know her neighbors have been oblivious to your presence, but that doesn’t mean they should have free access to the show that is unfolding. You pull away just far enough to still feel her hot breath on your lips.
“You ready to show me around my new home?” You ask in a teasing murmur.
There is a rush of emotions that courses through Olivia as she nods. It has been years since she shared her space with someone. There is a moment of anxiety that runs through her as she tries to remember if she even cleaned the apartment before she left. However, with you looking at her like she had delivered you the stars and the moon, it doesn’t really matter.
“Our home,” she says, tangling her fingers in yours.
She pulls the keys from her pocket and slides them into the lock. There is a moment when the door swings open that you feel a rush of butterflies against her stomach. They are instantly soothed as she pulls you inside.
Her apartment is exactly how you imagined it in your head. There are pictures of her and the rest of her squad scattered around, some books piled on tables, and case files spread everywhere. Finally, your eyes catch onto a hoodie that is draped across the back of her couch.
“Hey, I have been looking for that. When did you steal it from me?”
Olivia merely shrugs with a mischievous look in her eyes. “Doesn’t matter now, does it. You live here and so do all of your things.”
Your fingers curl into the loops of her slacks, and you pull her flush against you. Her arms automatically go to wrap around your shoulders like they were made to be there, which, honestly, they have been. Every part of Olivia seems to slot against you like a puzzle that finally found its missing piece. You gently nuzzle your face against her, encouraging her to meet your lips in a kiss.
This kiss is just as desperate as the one in the hallway. Olivia attempts to fill it with all the words she doesn't know how to say. You don't need the explanation, though; you see the thoughts rushing through her mind. For once, Olivia can see the light at the end of the tunnel, the way through the darkness; instead of being drowned by it, she sees hope.
You move back to see Olivia’s pupils blown wide. Her cheeks burn a bright red, and her chest shakes as she tries to catch her breath. Her large inhales and exhales show the bite mark that has finally started to fade. The sight of your old fang indents is enough to send you into a spiral.
This is the desperation that is supposed to come with a bond. This all-consuming need to be touching and feeding off a partner. It is the only way to curb the desire that consumes every cell in your body after the initial connection.
“Excited, my love?” You tease, already knowing the answer.
“More than excited,” she giggles softly. In a much quieter voice, she adds. “I’ve never been with a woman before.”
There is a shame that lingers in her thoughts after she admits it. You can tell that she is worried she won't be able to satisfy the desire that she knows lives inside of you. You merely smile at how wrong her worries are. Olivia could do next to nothing, and you would feel like the luckiest vampire alive. All you want is her.
“That’s okay,” you say softly. Your hands move from her waist to her upper arms, stroking the bare skin and the hem of her sleeves. “The easiest way to explain it is it’s a lot like masturbating, you’re just doing it to someone else. But I‘ll show you and talk you through it.”
“Show me?” Olivia asks nervously.
“I'm assuming you have a mirror,” you say casually. Olivia nods, and you take her hand gently. “Then let me show you.”
It only takes a couple of seconds to pop Olivia’s full-length mirror off the door and prop it against the dresser. You settle Olivia at the edge of the bed in view of the glass. Her eyes immediately lock onto your reflection as you move to your knees.
“I can see you,” she whispers, amazed at this new information.
You laugh as you slowly unzip her boots and toss them to the side. “You have been relying on Google vampire lore too much, my love. I can see my reflection.”
“Does this mean we can take a picture together?” She asks softly as you pull off her socks.
You pause to look up at her. Of all the things she could be asking right now, all she wants is a picture. A picture of you. Which from her thoughts alone you know she craves desperately. To have a piece of you she can take with her wherever she goes. So you give in, even though pictures are a complicated part of vampire life.
“Yes…we can take pictures together,” you reassure her, your hands gently opening her thighs. “We can even start now if you are interested.”
Olivia’s cheeks burn as you work to open the button of her slacks. “I…I…would rather just focus on you right now.”
“Next time, then,” you say as she lifts her hips to help you pull down her pants. “Also, the focus tonight is on you, baby.”
You spread her legs further apart, kiss up her inner thighs with soft open-mouth kisses. Olivia’s hands clutch at the sheets next to her hips as she tries to calm the beating in her heart. You give her a gentle bite at the apex of her hip that makes her whimper.
Just as she thinks you are about to pull off her underwear, you sit up on your knees instead. Your hands fall to her waist as Olivia leans down to kiss you again. Your hands slowly slip beneath her shirt, fingers making lazy patterns on her skin. You feel her stomach muscles jump beneath your cold touch, goosebumps forming as your hands push her shirt further up.
Her whole body stills when you pass over a scar along her ribs. You choose not to ask about it, merely lean forward to kiss it softly. Her breath hitches, and you wonder how long she has gone thinking her scars make her broken instead of strong.
“You are gorgeous,” you murmur when you finally get her shirt over her head. “I love you.”
Her face is a beautiful pink as the compliment settles in her bones. “I love you too.”
Your hands go to unclip her bra, and you moan when it falls away, fully exposing her to you. You knew she was gorgeous, but you never knew she would look like a goddess sent down on this Earth just for you. That thought sends another moan down your lips. It is followed shortly by Olivia’s moan when one hand goes to cup her breast, your thumb gently flicking her nipple.
“So. Fucking. Perfect,” you growl.
Her fingers lace through your hair as you leave open-mouthed kisses on one breast while your hand kneads and pulls the other. Her eyes flick between looking down at you, your fangs barely poking out as you scrape her skin, and in the mirror where she can see you nestled between her legs.
“Baby,” she whimpers when you bite down gently on her nipple.
Her hips arch towards you, and your free hand pushes her back towards the bed. You pull back slightly, kissing the breast you were just giving attention to.
“I'm taking my time,” you murmur, kissing lightly on her other breast. “It’s not a race.”
Oliva wants to protest that yes, it is in fact a race. The kind of race where she needs you inside of her immediately, otherwise her skin may catch on fire.
You grin at her thoughts, finally kissing down her stomach when you feel like you have given her chest ample attention. Her fingers gently scrape your scalp, attempting to encourage you to be faster. It doesn't work.
Instead, you attempt to memorize every inch of her skin with soft kisses and tiny scrapes of your teeth. Olivia’s legs are shaking now, her hips clenching around your body in an attempt to find any relief. You offer her none, content to map out everything Olivia has to offer you. You only pause when she whimpers in impatience.
“You are doing so good baby,” you murmur before your fingers slide to the hem of her underwear. “Now lift your hips.”
She complies eagerly, betraying how excited she is. You toss the underwear to the side, separating her legs even further apart. Your tongue comes out to lick your lips as you realize how wet she is.
“You are dripping, Liv,” you murmur, your finger gently swiping through her folds.
Olivia stutters out a moan, her head tipping back as her curls cascade down her back. “It’s all for you.”
“Only me?” You question before you can stop yourself.
Her eyes flick down to yours as her hand goes to curl around the one that is resting on her hip. “Only you. I'm yours. Only yours.”
You grin at these words, and the last self-control you clung to slips through your fingers. You grab one of Olivia’s legs, throwing it over your shoulder, which catches her off guard for only a moment before you start licking her clit.
“Oh shit,” she moans, her fingers tightening in your hair, caught off guard by the quick movement.
Olivia has been eaten out before, but never like this. Never with someone she loved. Never with someone’s tongue pressing hard against her clit and then gently slipping inside her. She bucks her hips against you, her eyes torn between watching you in the mirror and tugging your hair.
It is only when she bites down hard on her bottom lip to stop a particularly loud moan that you stop. She whimpers at the sound loss of your tongue on her, and her body involuntarily clenches around something that isn't there.
“Don't hold back,” you tell her, watching as her chest heaves from trying to catch her breath. “I want to hear you. You sound sexy, and I love knowing that I'm the one who does that to you.”
She merely nods, her thoughts flustered by the fact that you easily slipped one finger inside of her. You click your tongue before sliding in a second, momentarily curling them so her hips jump towards you.
“Come on, baby, I told you I want to hear you. Now give me what’s mine.”
She moans this time as your fingers curl to that perfect spot inside her. “All yours,” she pants, fingers curling back around your hand. “Please.”
She doesn’t even know what she is begging for, just knows that the plea forces you back to her. You don't hold back this time, sucking on her clit in perfect sync with the bump of your fingers.
Olivia’s eyes are glued to the mirror now. Her one leg shakes around your shoulder while the other one extends towards the floor, trying to stabilize herself. Her chest and cheeks burn a bright red as she works hard to control her breath.
The most interesting part of the image in the glass is you, though. The way your body moves in sync with hers, hair tangled in her fingers to bring her closer and closer to the edge. Which finally spills over when you bite down gently on her clit.
Her whole body arches up to you as a series of whimpering moans falls from her mouth. You think about stopping until you realize she is still moving against you. Even after your fingers slow, she continues to grind against your face like she can’t get enough.
“Don't stop, don’t,” she whines, collapsing back onto her elbows, mirror entirely forgotten. “Don't fucking stop.”
You grin before redoubling your efforts. Your fingers thrust hard against her, stopping for only a moment to add a third to the mix. You can tell that alone sends her closer to another orgasm as she clenches around your fingers. It comes seconds later when your tongue presses down hard on her clit. Her body arches off the bed, and her thighs shake.
“Oh god…oh shit…oh god,” she moans out as her body rides and then crashes from her high.
When her body finally relaxes, you pull out of her gently. She grunts at the loss, whimpering when you place one final soft kiss on her clit.
As you stand, she grabs for your wrist weakly. She pulls you towards her so that she can wrap her mouth around the three fingers that were just inside of her. Your eyes flutter close as a moan escapes you, but you recover quickly.
“You know,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss the side of her mouth. “My name isn’t oh god, but it sure does sound good when it leaves your mouth.”
Her laugh is shaky as she gently slaps your arm. “Shut up.”
“Never,” you grin, kissing her gently. “You did amazing, baby.”
Her cheeks burn at the compliment, eyes watching you as you go to stand up. “Where are you going?”
“To get you cleaned up.”
The pout that forms on her lips is instant, her legs coming to wrap around you so you can't move. “It’s my turn.”
“Olivia, you don't have to,” you tell her as you watch her body struggle to find equilibrium.
“I want to make you feel as good as you just made me feel,” she protests. “Now get undressed and get up here.”
You know you should put up more of a fight, but with her leaning up on her elbows, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and her pulse thudding against her neck, you can’t say no. She moves higher on the bed so she isn’t hanging off the edge and watches as your clothes join hers on the floor. Her eyes trace every curve of your skin, and for once, you feel adored by the person you are about to sleep with.
“You are absolutely stunning,” she murmurs, her eyes never leaving yours as you crawl next to her. “I can’t believe you are all mine.”
The words make her body vibrate with a joy you never knew you needed. Your hand comes to cup her cheek as you both lie on your side.
“Yours, forever,” you promise, leaning to kiss her. When you pull away, you murmur, “I'm never leaving you.”
The words release something in Olivia that pushes past her own exhaustion and morphs it into something of a hungry beast. She kisses you frantically, pulling down on your bottom lip until you moan.
It continues like this for a while until Olivia’s hand finally drifts towards your chest. She cups your breast experimentally, feeling the weight of it for a moment before she squeezes. You moan into the softening kiss when she pulls at your nipple. At first, it is hesitant, trying to figure out what you like.
“Harder,” you whisper as she gains more confidence. “Just like that, baby,” you moan when she pulls harder and rolls it between her thumb and index finger.
She kisses along your jaw as her hand continues to work on your breast. Your hand curls into her hair when her teeth nip harshly just beneath your ear. You are so lost in the sensation of her lips and teeth working down your neck that you don't even notice when her free hand slips between your legs.
Olivia expects to find heat radiating there, similar to what she is experiencing, but instead, she is met with a chill. Despite being used to how cold you feel, her concern is immediate.
“I’m okay,” you reassure her, your grip in her hair softening so you can briefly run your fingers through it. You moan when her hand strokes your inner thigh, and the temperature difference makes your legs spread wider in search for more. “I know it feels odd.”
She finally looks up at you then, and for once her eyes don’t give her away, but the bond does. She feels a little guilty for reacting the way she did. She should have known you would be cold everywhere. You both part your lips as if to respond to one another — presumably with different responses — but Olivia discards hers in favor of a hot, open-mouthed kiss against your breast that makes you relax against the mattress.
The moment her fingers find your clit and her mouth latches to your nipple, you moan loudly as your chest arches toward her, and your hips grind against her hand. Your fangs extend fully to compensate for the arousal that shoots through you. Your hand curls tighter into her hair as she finds a rhythm. Your legs twitch, and Olivia can't help but steal glances upward at the desire that is coated across your face.
“That’s it, baby, keep doing that,” you moan, opening your legs wider to try and get Olivia to go where you need her the most.
She takes the nonverbal hint and automatically slides two fingers inside of you. Your back arches as you start trying to rock into her. Any worries that Olivia had when tonight started have completely washed away. She curls her fingers inside of you, matching the rhythm that you had earlier for her.
“I'm so close,” you tell her, and then groan when her thumb comes to flick your clit in time with her thrusts. “That’s it, baby. That’s it. Don't stop, baby. Don't stop.”
You cum seconds later, your body curling towards her as your pleasure crashes over in waves. You can tell she wants to coax another one out of you, but you gently pull at her wrist.
She pulls back, concern flickering for a moment before you pull her into a soft kiss.
“It’s been…awhile,” you admit, pecking her lips one more time. “One is enough for me today.” She nods in understanding as you curl her towards you. “You did great, baby.”
“I had a great teacher,” she teases, making you both laugh.
—-----
Once you are both cleaned up, you lie in bed curled against each other. Her head rests on your chest, her fingers tracing nonsense patterns on your skin while she finds her way back to her body again. Your coldness helps accelerate the temperature drop of her body, so you adjust the covers tighter around her. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, and you realize that she never really does.
Ever since the first time you fed on her, she has always wanted to be touching you. At first, you thought it was the bond, but it goes much deeper than that. Olivia touches you to make sure you are real. To make sure that you aren’t going to disappear in the night and never come back. Your hands circle tighter around her as if to prove that you aren’t going anywhere. That lying here, curled in bed with her, is the only place that you want to be.
“Penny for your thoughts,” you whisper, kissing her softly on the top of the head.
“I just can't believe you are real…that this feels so right,” Olivia says.
You hum in agreement. “I can't wait to be here when you get home every day.” You kiss her forehead gently. “To hold you while you sleep every night.” You kiss her lips. “And to be able to kiss you every morning before you go to work.”
When you pull away from the kiss, there is a dreamy look in Olivia’s eyes. “I can’t believe that you are mine.” She lays her head back on your chest as her whole body begins to relax again. “I love you.”
“My love, I have been waiting centuries for someone like you. It should be me who can’t believe my luck right now,” you say as you tuck the covers tighter around you. You place a kiss on the top of her head as you squeeze her one more time. “Now get some sleep and know that I will always love you.”
You can feel the way Olivia’s heart flutters at the words. You don’t need to go into her mind to know the words have struck home. She is happy, she is loved, she is safe, and that is all it takes for her to drift off to sleep.
Reap What You Sow ~Post-S21!Daddy!Olivia Benson xFem Sub!Reader
Summary— Set in post season 21, where Liv is Captain. Reader decides to tease Olivia throughout the day and smutty punishment ensues later that night when Liv can finally do something about it…
Your head hung low, over your shoulders and over the woman’s knees. It was after hours and you were bent over Olivia’s lap in her office. With another sharp crack to your barren ass, you jolted up slightly and let out a desperate mewl.
“Six—teen Daddy!!” You cried out.
You expect to feel another sharp smack to your ass, but instead you felt the woman’s hand gently rubbing your pink flesh.
“That’s it, such a good girl for Daddy.” Olivia cooed.
Pretty soon, her fingers trailed in between your legs and past your panties. She found your slick core, drenched in arousal, so wet it made you dizzy.
“Ooh Baby you’re soaked…” Liv purred, “Did Daddy make you this way…?”
You nodded vigorously, as one of her digits swiped through your folds.
“Yes yes all for Daddy, so wet for Daddy…!” You mewled.
After bringing her arousal coated digit up to her mouth and licking your juices clean off, the brunette gently caressed and squeezed your supple skin. Your body was left burning for more.
“Have you learned your lesson, sweetie…?” Liv condescendingly cooed.
You nodded vigorously.
“Yes Daddy yes yes please…!” You pled, “I’m sorry mm sorry—!”
“Sorry for what, baby…?”
“Mmm sorry for dressing up…! Sorry for distracting you!”
“You mean, you’re sorry for dressing like a slut, right…?? Daddy’s girl can’t just show up to work dressed to whore herself out… no matter whether Daddy will see her or not…” Liv spat.
You bit your lip and tensed up, as her digits dug into your left ass check possessively as she spoke. You let out a desperate mewl and nodded swiftly.
“Yes Daddy, I’m sorry please…!! I’m sorry I’m such a slut, can’t help it Daddy!” You babbled.
Your ass was smacked with a swift Crack!! again. This one went all to your core, as you felt your juices start to leak down your thighs.
“Oooooh Seventeen D-daddy!!” You cowled.
“Beg Daddy to give you mercy.” Liv demanded.
“P-please please Daddy— I… I need you Daddy!! I need your cock or your fingers or your mouth or anything Daddy please… I’ll be good I promise, Mmm so sorry Daddy pleaseee…!!” You begged.
In one fluid motion, two of Olivia’s fingers snaked back in between your legs and slid inside your gushing cunt. They pumped and curled inside you, making your toes curl and your mouth foam. You wanted to scream in pleasure, but you bit your tongue.
“Such a good girl for Daddy…” Liv cooed lustfully.
Sliding the CD into the cd player, soft Christmas music started to fill the air and you turned around to see your wife, Olivia Benson standing with her arms opened wide for you. Your face grew a smile as you walked over to you and wrapped your arms around her neck. She wrapped hers around your waist and started swaying with you.
The tv was on Disney plus, Christmas movies lined up, ready for yall to watch. You wanted this Christmas to be a special one, Olivia has been really stressed out these past couple months about a kidnapping case. It involved a child and for months Olivia has been searching for this girl and she finally found her a couple of days ago. Ever since then, she has been trying to relax and not worry about anything else besides you.
"I'm so proud of you liv." You whispered near her ear. "Thank you, sweetheart. I couldn't have done it without you." She replied and you gave her a confused look. "What? I didn't do anything." You said and she shook her head. "Babygirl, without you making sure I rested, ate, and slept, I would have been in the hospital. You always take care of me, and I really love and appreciate you for that princess." Olivia said with a loving look in her eyes. "In sickness and in health" You quoted from yalls wedding.
Olivia smiled and leaned down to place her lips on your soft ones. You kissed her back softly and placed your hands on her waist. Her smile broke the kiss and the two of you laughed softly. The two of you continued to sway to the soft beat of the music and Olivia suddenly stopped ear the door which made you question her. She pointed above her, and it showed mistletoe. You laughed and gently grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down so you could kiss her again.
"You are sneaky my love." You called her out and she gave you a laugh in return. The two of you stopped dancing and headed over to the couch where snacks and drinks were placed. You grabbed the remote and turned your favorite Christmas movie on. The rest of the night was a night the both of you needed and you couldn't be happier to be by your wife's side.
A/n: Thank you to @charliesangel-est1999 for this request! I hope you all enjoy it! My Christmas/winter requests are opened for all of the people/characters I write :) Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love yall!
Falling Head Over Heels - Olivia Benson x Reader (Law & Order: SVU)
a/n: i'm pretty sure like 9/10 of the fics so far this month have featured specifically love confessions in a hospital???? clearly working through something over here - plus (spoiler alert) probably much more to come from that genre as long as i still have the steam to continue writing this month
setting: You were only supposed to be backup. Just a routine follow-up, Olivia said. You’d be in and out in twenty minutes.
But nothing about SVU is ever routine. And now you’re trapped, bleeding, barely conscious - somewhere beneath the city in a freezing, broken-down basement.
Part of the Mayloncholy 2025: Day Five, "I can't feel my hands." of @may-lancholy
You join SVU with a lengthy transfer file and a reputation. Sharp. By-the-book. Not afraid to speak your mind, even to someone like Olivia Benson.
She watches you during your first week, sizing you up with the same intensity she gives suspects in the box. You feel it every time you catch her eye across the squadroom. She doesn’t speak much, but she doesn’t have to. She notices everything. That’s her job.
Your first case together involves a missing girl and a manipulative stepfather. The moment Olivia sees your theory board, she pauses. Then she nods, just once. You don’t realize until later what a rare gesture that is.
“Good instincts,” she says. “You look at the whole picture.”
You don’t reply. You don’t need to. You’re still figuring her out. You watch for her clipped sentences, the way she steps into silence instead of away from it. Still trying to understand why her approval feels like something heavier than just professional validation.
After the girl is found, scared but alive, Olivia brings you coffee the next morning. No smile. No comment. Just a warm cup left on your desk before you arrive.
It happens again after your first case involving a child victim. That night, you had trouble sleeping. You’d buried it behind a mask, filed the report, gone home and sat on your kitchen floor for an hour, empty.
The next morning: coffee left on your desk again. A quiet glance across the bullpen. Like she knew.
From then on, she starts assigning you harder cases. Tougher interviews. Giving you the reins even when others think you’re not ready. She sees something in you. Something familiar. Maybe something she remembers from her own early years here.
You work late. She works later. And more than once, the two of you stay behind, long after the others have gone home, pretending there’s more paperwork to finish, more files to read.
There’s nothing to say, and yet, somehow, it feels like a conversation.
You don’t know what it means. Not yet.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
The first time the tension breaks through the surface, it’s raining. A suspect bolts down 9th Avenue. You and Olivia chase them through puddles and traffic, your jacket soaked, hair dripping.
You catch the guy. Handcuff him. Shove him into the cruiser, out of breath. When you turn, Olivia is watching you - soaked to the bone, laughing in disbelief.
“You’re crazy,” she says, stepping toward you, breathing hard. Her hand reaches out. Brushes a strand of wet hair from your cheek, slow. Gentle.
You blink. “What?”
She doesn’t answer. Just gives you a small smile. Steps back.
Later, you replay that moment. The look in her eyes. The way her hand lingered a second too long. You think... if it had been anyone else, they would’ve kissed you.
But Olivia doesn’t cross lines. Not anymore.
And then, the second time. A takedown goes south. You get grazed by a bullet in the shoulder. Nothing fatal, but enough to send a bolt of fear through her. She’s the one who stops the bleeding, hands shaking, voice sharp.
“You should’ve waited for backup.”
You wince. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” she snaps. “You’re my responsibility, but damn it-”
“You’re not my mother.”
She goes still. Then, softer, quieter, “You know you're not just my detective.”
She doesn’t finish the thought. She never does. Instead, she walks away, leaving you with an apologetic-looking EMT.
But you feel it. Between the silences. In the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
The building is decrepit. Mold on the walls. Cracked tile. A chill that seeps into your bones the second you cross the threshold. You and Olivia move through the dark hallway with measured steps, the suspect somewhere inside.
You shouldn’t split up. She tells you that. But the adrenaline is high, the lead is too important. You see a flash of movement and take it. She calls your name. You don’t stop.
Then the floor gives way.
There’s no scream. Just a sound like the world tearing in half and then the rush of cold air and concrete as you fall. A sharp crack in your ribs. The air gone from your lungs. Darkness all around.
You’re in a sub-basement. Hidden. Sealed off and forgotten. You try to move and can’t. Pain burns hot along your side. Your breath comes shallow. Fast. Too fast.
Then, her voice.
"Where are you? Talk to me!"
You manage a weak shout, more of a grunt, "Basement. Floor gave in. I... I think I hit rebar."
She curses. It’s the rawest you’ve ever heard her.
"Stay awake. I'm getting help." Her voice calls from a far-away sounding place.
You want to tell her something clever. Something to make her laugh. But all you can manage is: "Not sure I can."
She doesn’t wait for backup.
You hear her boots pounding above you, then nothing. Then again, closer. A metal grate squeals open. Footsteps on rusted stairs. And suddenly, she’s there. Olivia. Dropping to her knees beside you.
Her coat is off in seconds, folded and slipped beneath your head. Her hands move quickly, pressing into your side, trying to stop the bleeding.
"Hey," she says, and her voice is too steady. Too calm. Which means she’s terrified. "You with me?"
You nod. Barely.
"I can’t feel my hands," you whisper.
Something flashes across her face. You think it might be devastation.
"You’re not dying here. I won’t let you."
You try to grin. "You always notice the details."
"Don’t joke. Stay with me. Please."
You feel your body trying to shut down, inch by inch. The pain is distant now. Just pressure and cold.
"Liv. I need to say something."
She shakes her head. "No. Not like this. You don’t get to say anything like it’s the end. You say it after. When we’re out. When I can yell at you and take you to dinner and..."
You touch her wrist. Weak. Trembling.
"You love me."
There is a short beat. A breath. And then, "I do."
It’s a whisper. A vow. A crack in something long-sealed.
You close your eyes. Just for a moment.
But her voice anchors you.
"Stay with me. Stay."
The sound of sirens, distantly. Finally.
And her hand, gripping yours, like she’ll never let go.
The sirens are louder now. Close. But Olivia doesn't move. She stays right there with you, kneeling in the dirt and dust, hands slick with your blood. The narrow beam of her flashlight catches in the tears she's trying not to shed.
She shifts closer, pressing firmer against the wound. You groan but she mumbles, “Pressure’s helping,” she lies. You both know it might not be enough.
You shiver. Not from pain. From the cold. From the fear you’ve been swallowing for the last ten minutes. “Tell me something,” you whisper.
“What?”
“Anything. Talk to me.”
She swallows. Hard. Looks down at you like you might slip away if she blinks.
“I hated you when you first got here,” she says, voice shaking. “You were too confident. Too sharp. Too damn sure of yourself.”
You manage a weak laugh. “You’re not great at comforting people.”
“I’m getting to the good part,” she snaps gently, brushing damp hair from your forehead. “And then you proved me wrong. Every case. Every choice. You made this place better. You made me better.”
Your throat tightens. “Liv…”
“I told myself it was admiration. Respect. And then I started looking for excuses to stay late when you did. Started bringing coffee I knew you liked. Started memorising how you take it, for no reason.”
You try to speak. She hushes you with a shake of her head.
“And I still tried to keep my distance. Because I don’t cross lines. Not anymore.”
You squeeze her fingers, or maybe you imagine you do.
“You didn’t cross it,” you whisper. “I did. I fell through the floor, remember?”
A breath escapes her. Half a sob. Half a laugh.
“You’re the worst patient I’ve ever had.”
“You’re the hottest doctor I’ve ever hallucinated.”
Olivia lets her head drop for a moment, forehead almost touching yours. You feel her breath, warm despite the cold. Her hands haven’t left you. One pressing in at your side, the other cupping your cheek.
“I need you to hold on,” she says. “Just a little longer.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.” Her voice breaks again. “I know.”
You hear boots above. Shouting. The sharp bark of radios.
Then, light floods the basement from above. A ladder. Gloves reaching down.
“In here!” Olivia calls, louder than you’ve ever heard her.
Hands come for you. She doesn’t let go. Not when they slide a brace under your neck. Not when they lift you onto the stretcher. Not when they carry you up and she has to climb behind them.
She’s beside you in the ambulance, knuckles white around your hand.
“You’re going to make it,” she keeps saying. “You’re going to be okay.”
You believe her. Not because the medics nod. Not because they start shouting vitals and stats you don’t understand.
You believe her because she’s never looked this afraid. Or this certain.
You close your eyes, just for a second.
Her hand squeezes yours.
“Hey. Eyes open. You stay with me, you hear me?”
And somehow, you do.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
The world returns slowly.
It starts with warmth. The opposite of the basement. Thick blankets cocoon you, tucked snug beneath your chin. Soft cotton against your skin. A steady, rhythmic beep pulses beside your ear. Your side aches, deep and dull. Your throat is raw. Your mouth is dry.
But the pain isn’t the first thing you notice.
It’s her.
Olivia.
Curled in the armchair beside your hospital bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. Her boots lie abandoned on the floor. One leg tucked beneath her, arms folded tight like she’s holding herself together. Her head bowed, chin nearly resting on her chest. Her face is softened in sleep, but there’s tension there too, in the furrow of her brow, the tight line of her jaw. Even in rest, she hasn’t let go.
You whisper her name, a thread of sound, hoarse and fragile.
“Olivia.”
She stirs instantly. Blinking as if surfacing from deep water, her eyes search your face before she’s even fully awake. Then she’s on her feet, crossing the small space between you like she’s been waiting for a moment to move.
“Hey,” she says, voice thick, and that one word wraps around you like an exhale of pure relief.
“Hey.” Your own voice cracks. Before the word has finished leaving your lips, she’s already reaching for the water on the tray beside your bed. She brings the straw to your mouth with the kind of tenderness that feels instinctual.
You sip. Slowly. Carefully. Her hand steadies the cup, her eyes never leaving your face.
“Can you feel your hands?” she asks, her voice threaded with tension she’s trying hard to conceal.
You lift your fingers, flexing them one by one. They move, clumsy, slow, but alive.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “But they’re cold.”
She doesn’t hesitate. She threads her fingers through yours like she’s done it a thousand times in her mind. Her grip is firm. Grounding.
And just like that, you're warm again.
“You scared the hell out of me,” she says finally, voice low, rough at the edges.
“Pretty sure I scared myself,” you reply, the ghost of a smile touching your lips.
She exhales hard, like she’s been holding her breath since the moment she found you. Then she perches on the edge of your bed, still holding your hand, thumb brushing absently over your knuckles.
“You lost a lot of blood. Surgery went well, but they said… another few minutes…”
“I know.” You squeeze her hand, weakly but with purpose. “I wouldn’t have made it out if you hadn’t come after me.”
Her gaze drops, lashes low. “I wasn’t going to leave you down there.”
“I know that too.”
Quiet again. But this time it’s laced with something softer, the slow, steady current of truth.
You turn to her fully, eyes tracing her features. The hollows beneath her eyes. The way her shoulders slump, like the weight she’s carried has finally caught up with her. “You meant it,” you say, your voice gentle but sure.
Her eyes meet yours. Steady. Open. “I did.” You don’t ask for more. “I did,” she says again, this time barely above a whisper. “And I still do.”
You squeeze her hand again, stronger now. And this time, she feels it. You see the flicker of relief ripple across her face.
“Guess this means we’re past the paperwork stage,” you murmur.
A laugh breaks from her, real and unguarded. It catches in her throat before spilling out, weary and disbelieving, like she didn’t think she’d get to laugh again. She leans in, pressing her forehead gently to yours.
“I want to do this right,” she says, her breath brushing your skin.
You nod. “Then take me to dinner. Yell at me for being reckless. Make me order dessert for healing reasons.”
Her smile is small but certain. “I will.”
“Good.”
Your eyes flutter shut, sleep tugging at you again, heavy and relentless.
She kisses your temple, soft, reverent.
“Rest,” she murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”
And you believe her.
Because for the first time, it doesn’t feel like she’s holding back.
It feels like she’s already yours.
xxxxxxxxxxxx
You’re not used to being fussed over. Not like this.
But that doesn’t stop anyone from doing it.
Your first day back at the precinct is a blur of too-tight hugs, sidelong glances, and concern barely disguised as casual conversation. Fin claps your shoulder, carefully, deliberately avoiding the side where you were stitched up, and grumbles, “You gave us a damn heart attack, you know.” There’s a sharpness behind the words, something raw, but his hand lingers just a second longer than usual.
Rollins shows up with a coffee and a blueberry muffin, both still warm. She doesn’t say anything but just slides into the chair beside you and starts scrolling on her phone, like she’s giving you permission to just sit and breathe. Eventually, the silence between you shifts. Becomes soft. Familiar.
Carisi stammers through a “Glad you’re okay,” scratching the back of his neck, before retreating to his desk like he’s worried you’ll shatter if he says anything else.
And Olivia?
She watches from her office, arms folded across her chest, her expression unreadable through the glass. But when you glance up, even just for a second. she’s already watching. And she doesn’t look away.
She hasn’t, not since that day.
The day she found you. The day you almost didn’t make it out.
The hours drag. Paperwork. Light duty. A few check-ins from IAB that you power through with gritted teeth. The physical act of sitting at your desk feels surreal, like the desk has changed in your absence, or maybe you have.
But Olivia’s presence never feels far. You catch the shadow of her in doorways, the quiet sound of her footsteps nearby. It’s not overbearing, it’s grounding. A reminder.
At one point, she walks by your desk and places something down beside your keyboard without a word.
A paper cup. Tea. The exact kind you like.
There’s a yellow Post-it stuck to the lid, the handwriting unmistakable:
Don’t make me come in there and force you to rest. I’m terrifying. Love, Liv.
You snort under your breath. Shake your head and tuck the note into your pocket like it’s something sacred. A charm. A lifeline.
Later, after the bustle of the day has faded and most of the squad has gone home, the bullpen dims to a quiet hum. The silence feels earned. You find her in her office, bathed in the soft blue glow of her monitor, typing something with steady focus.
You knock on the doorframe gently.
“I survived the day,” you say.
She leans back in her chair, the faintest smile pulling at her lips. “Barely.”
“You were hovering.”
“Discreetly,” she replies, chin lifting in mock pride.
You give her a look.
“Okay,” she sighs, “not discreetly. But I didn’t hover hover.”
You step inside and close the door behind you. The lock clicks with a soft finality.
She stands.
It’s instinct now, the way your bodies move toward each other. The way your hands meet halfway, fingers tangling like they’re tracing a memory. Her palms settle at your waist, warm through your shirt. Your fingers find the edge of her jaw, her cheekbone, the place just beneath her ear where she softens under your touch.
“You look tired,” you murmur, brushing your thumb across her cheek.
She exhales like the tension’s been waiting for permission to leave. “You look alive,” she whispers. “That’s better.”
You lean into her, letting your forehead rest against hers. The low buzz of the building around you becomes background noise, fading into something warm and distant.
“I missed this,” you say quietly. “Being back. Being with you.”
“Me too,” she murmurs.
A beat of silence. Then, with a small, almost hesitant smile: “Noah’s been asking when you’re coming over.”
You blink. “He knows about me?”
Olivia nods, her smile growing, eyes shining with something soft. “He’s heard... a lot. I told him you were hurt. That you’re okay now. He wanted to know if you’d still tell him the bad jokes I mentioned.”
You huff a laugh. “The classics. Knock-knock. Chicken crossing the road, etc.”
“He loves those,” she says, “And for the record, he claims you’d make a better grilled cheese than me.”
You grin, “I haven’t even made him grilled cheese yet.”
“He’s precocious. And clearly a traitor.”
You grin, tilting your head. “Tomorrow night?”
She nods without hesitation. “Tomorrow night.”
Then she leans in, presses her lips to yours, gentle, sure, not rushed. Not hungry. Just home.
When she pulls back, her fingers trail down to find yours again.
“Come on,” she says softly. “Let’s get out of here.”
You follow her through the sleeping bullpen, past desks and memories and the ghosts of a hundred cases. The elevator dings as it arrives, and she doesn’t let go of your hand. Not once.
As the doors begin to slide closed, Fin walks past, a cup of something in his hand. He sees you, sees both of you, and doesn’t miss a beat. Just lifts a brow and smirks.
You glance up at Olivia, a question in your eyes.
She just squeezes your hand tighter.
And for once, there’s no pretending.
No excuses. No lines to toe.
Just her hand in yours, and the quiet promise of tomorrow.
Olivia Benson x reader
warnings: language, smut, mommy kink.
requested: yes.
the rare occurrence of me writing for Olivia, and it being smut on top of that? don't expect this to happen for a while LOL.
Somewhere between a drabble and a one shot. absolutely no plot.
You knew exactly what you were getting in for, that had been your plan from the very beginning. Olivia had been having an extremely long week, the two of you barely seeing each other, having to suffice with goodnight texts rather than tangling yourselves in each others limbs at the end of the day. Bored, you’d gone out and bought a few new lingerie sets and once you knew she was in the clear for Friday night completely off, you’d headed to her place dolled up with dinner and wine. It was absolutely no surprise that dinner got completely forgotten once she saw a piece of pink lace peeking out from under your shirt.
She took her time admiring you in the bedroom, letting you show off the delicate set, her eyes darkening with the slow twirl you did, popping up on your toes to make sure she didn’t miss the bow on the back. Her hands traced over the fabric, purposely avoiding the areas you wanted her to touch the most at first, letting you whine, waiting until you were putty in her arms, whimpering under her touch. Then she finally took off your bra, leaning over you on the bed to catch a nipple in between her lips, sucking at it, flicking it with the tip of her tongue before nipping gently and you moaned. She repeated the action on the other side, her fingers continuing to toy with your chest, feeling the way your body was practically trembling underneath her.
“That’s it sweetheart.” She murmured, pressing a tender kiss in the center of your chest, “always so good for me.” Her kisses trailed down your body until her fingers slipped into the waistband of your panties and she pulled them down your legs, letting out a small chuckle at the sudden shyness that had overcome you. Her hands brushed up your legs, rubbing soothingly at your soft skin, “spread your legs for mommy, I want to see you.”
Letting out a breath you obliged, letting your legs fall open so she could shift between them, a gasp escaping you lips when she palmed at your pussy. Her fingers slipped between your folds, rubbing at you as the heel of her hand gently ground into your clit, watching the way you let out a satisfied moan.
“What would you like sweet girl?” She asked, pressing a little harder, “to get off on my fingers, in my mouth or on mommy’s cock?”
“Your cock.” You groaned, hips bucking up off the bed when she dipped two of her fingertips into your cunt, sighing at the way you were already squeezing around her, at just how wet you were already.
“That’s what I thought.” She leant over you, giving your clit a gentle kiss before shifting from the bed to rid herself of the rest of her clothes and grab the strap.
Returning to the bed Olivia climbed over you, her hand finding its way between your legs once again, a finger slipping into your cunt and you groaned, your head thrown back into the pillows.
“More…”
“So eager already.” She teased before adding a second finger, pumping them steadily in and out of your pussy, watching every time she pulled them out, smirking at how much of your juices were coating her fingers.
“Feels so good.” You murmured, hips chasing her movements, practically begging for more.
“I’ve got to warm you up sweetheart.” She cooed, her fingers beginning to curl and scissor inside you, stretching you out for the toy between her legs. “That’s it…” she purred when she could easily slide a third finger in and you couldn’t hold back the moan, body arching off the bed when she curled her fingers and hit the sweet spot inside you.
“Need you…” you whimpered and she slipped her fingers from you.
“I’m right here baby.” She replied, leaning over you to capture your lips in a kiss while she smeared your juices over her cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing it.
“Oh god…” Your eyes squeezed shut, arms wrapping around her to pull her impossibly close to you, making her hips meet yours, burying herself fully inside you.
“Feel good?” She asked with a smirk in her voice, peppering your jawline with kisses as you adjusted to her size.
“Yes…” you breathed out, relaxing against the bed and she started to move, “oh god.. so fucking good.”
Olivia’s hand moved to your leg, gently grabbing your thigh to shift it upwards, pinning it to the bed so she could reach even deeper within you, her hips setting a steady pace as her cock continued to plunge into you. Her lips met yours in a breathless kiss, moving with ease against your lips, tongue just daring to slip into your mouth as you whimpered.
Each thrust of her cock hit the sensitive spot inside you, each ridge of the toy dragged over your walls, your pussy fluttering around it faster than you wanted to admit. Pleasure was firing through your entire body, your skin on fire, nipples brushing against her chest as she fucked you. The kiss broke with a louder moan leaving your lips, your head thrown back and Olivia took advantage, her mouth making its way down your neck, leaving kisses and love bites across your tender skin, burying herself in the crook of your neck as she picked up the pace.
“Fuck!” You cried out, your pussy clenching down around her cock, hips eagerly meeting hers with each thrust.
“You take me so well sweet girl.” She praised, kissing the side of your neck, “so good for me, every time. My good little girl.”
“Mommy please…” you whined out and she let out a breath, pulling herself from your neck.
“Are you close sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded, biting at your lip as you held back another moan, “would you like to come?”
“Yes! Please!”
“You know you don’t have to ask.” She chuckled, her hand sneaking between your bodies to play with your clit, fingers rubbing it before pinching it gently and you gasped, your body jumping off the bed when she followed it up with a particularly deep thrust. “That’s it baby.. come for me.”
Her praise was all you needed, your body trembling with pleasure, a cry leaving your lips as your pussy pulsed around her, juices leaking out, smearing across your thighs and your hands clenched at her body.
“Good girl…” she cooed, her thrusts slowing as she fucked you through your orgasm, “just like that.” As her hips slowed her hand came up to your face, brushing off any mussed up hair, smoothing it back as she left gentle kisses across your face. “You’re so gorgeous, so pretty, my perfect sweet girl.”
You let out a little whimper, tilting your head up so she could kiss you properly before she shifted, slipping out of you so she could toss the toy to the side to be cleaned later. Her free hand didn’t once leave your body until she was back in the bed, pulling the covers up around the two of you, encouraging you to curl into her side. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, smiling at the very satisfied sigh you let out in response before giving your body a gentle squeeze, linking her free hand with yours.
“Feeling better now?”
“Absolutely perfect.” You left a kiss on her chest, “thank you.”
summary — you’ve been holding it together since the first graze of her fingers against your core in her office — since the look she gave you that promised later seconds after her touch disappeared. every touch since then has been a test of patience, a slow burn stretched across stolen glances and subtle tension. but now, the wait is over. with your bedroom door closed and her body pressed close, olivia unravels you with the same deliberate care she always does — not rushed, not gentle, but intentional. you’ve been aching for this moment all day, and she knows it — because she has, too.
warning(s) — established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink, orgasm denial, edging, teasing, praise kink, slight humiliation, light condescension, thigh riding, fingering, hickeys, forced orgasm, multiple orgasm, overstimulation, orgasm control, marking, choking, hair pulling, mentions of firearms, crying, begging, mention of previous injury, finger sucking, firmly believe olivia would coach you through it, nipple stimulation, slight nipples torture, makeouts, men/minors dni
authors note — olivia benson returns. part one here! can be read entirety independently though. enjoy :)
“I’ve wanted to get my hands on you all day.” Olivia’s mouth is slotted against yours to where her upper lip is fitted between yours, and her teeth mark your bottom lip whenever she’s not playing tonsil hockey trying to take your breath away — even more than she already had with her wandering hands and teasing touches on the way home that had been even more infuriating than the entire scene in her office. Her hands had trailed across the small of your back like heavy weight, sometimes trailing lower, lifting higher, falling away entirely only to clap against the globe of your ass when you were least expecting it. She’d disguised every tantalizing spank, concealed every pinch of your nipples when an arm draped across your shoulders and hung over your chest.
You’d been drunk on her touch before, sure, but now the breeze has sobered you, and that yearning for more creates a campfire in your tummy, doing somersaults every time she looks at you the way she is now, with her forehead against yours and her nose just a single tiptoe lean away from brushing against yours. “So, why are you still wasting time?” You panted against her lips, your hands curled into the collar of her blazer. You don’t let the question wash over her for more than a second before you’re kissing her again, sucking a purple patch onto her upper lip that’ll disappear by morning, but remind you of her willingness to be yours for the next few hours.
A hand grabs at your hair, and you briefly considered that maybe you fucked up. You might be resisting her temptation, forcing yourself to remain a fully conscious participant in this scene instead of her fucked-out submissive that begs for anything she’ll give. You don’t know why, there’s no reason, but ever since she’d left you high and dry in her office, there’d been this inescapable need in your belly to avoid sinking into the pillowy blackness. Maybe you were scared. You’d been vulnerable enough today. Whatever the reason, Olivia didn’t appreciate the bratty quip when she’d made it perfectly clear she was taking the reins tonight. “Do you want to try that again?” Her eyes narrowed, her hand yanking that fistful of your hair again until there was stinging tension against your scalp that made your eyes water and your throat contract before a whine fell into your bedroom.
“Please, Liv.” You gasped, your mouth falling open. You already missed the warmth of her against you, and the taste of stale breakroom coffee washing against your tongue every time she taunted the muscle. It wasn’t often she drank break room coffee all day instead of taking a walk down to the cart by the street, but evidently she’d been chained to the precinct for longer than you’d realized, and her only vice had been whatever Fin created for her between paperwork. Her mood makes sense. You don’t know what it is about those beans, but even you know it takes nearly double the cups to feel any caffeine.
You both have your problems right now, but this is going to fix them. It always does. Sex isn’t a cure all in your relationship, but this dynamic is sacred, it's something special built between the two of you, and the simple act of falling into it right now means that neither one of you is too far gone to be present and committed right now. That resistance in your head melts away, something snapping into place so abruptly it almost leads to whiplash, but Olivia doesn’t let your body jolt with the suggestion of submission. That grip on your hair gets tighter when your body goes slack, and the whine that rolls off your tongue isn’t an exaggeration when you wince in pain, fresh tears stinging your eyes as your eyes cloud, your mouth slackens.
Olivia lets go of your head in a moment, her eyebrows furrowing in worry as she makes sure her grip didn’t hurt you anymore than just an accidental pull that was just harsh and not fun. There was a line, a very fine line, but one that you’d learned very well. It had been a while since Olivia’s hands tangled into your hair had sparked tears of pain, not agonizing pleasure. It’s grounding. You can still make mistakes in this space, she can still be imperfect and human, but it all gets smoothed over unlike a case. One wrong step and the whole thing is blown, but not here, not with this, with you. That’s the beauty of it all.
”Please, Mommy. Undress me.” You pleaded with Benson, your eyes a glassy picture to see. Olivia never tired of the sight of you like this, especially not when it got better with time, as she unmade you and left you unraveled on the sheets in bliss. When the tears started falling and begging was the only language you knew, that’s when Olivia would be done with you. When she’d kiss your head, clean you up, and fall into the mattress beside you to sleep until your alarms went off tomorrow morning.
Olivia hummed, a fire flaming bright between her eyes when those five letters rolled off your tongue. She smiled, but she didn’t comply. Instead, one hand gripped your cheeks, pressing your lips together until they puckered like a fish. Your eyes, if they weren’t already a window to your heart, were probably reflective by this point as every thought slipped from your head. It should be embarrassing, she hadn’t even touched you yet, not really anyways, not since her office, but youre drunk on her.
It should humiliate you, the way that she looks at you like she’s inspecting you, trailing her eyes across your empty gaze, your flushed cheeks, your mouth that still tries to remain open and unlatched but is being held together by her fingers. She’d say you look pathetic, because you do, but it gets caught in her throat. “So pretty like this, sweetheart. Mommy hasn’t even touched you yet, but I’m sure those panties are even more wet than they were when I checked before, huh? Are they?” Olivia leaned forward, her tongue softly trailing from your cheek until it hit the corner of your lips. You tried to crane your head to meet her halfway, your body automatically responding to the call of her proximity, but she doesn’t let you move, and you whine. “I asked you a question, honey.”
“Yes, Mommy.” You whispered, attempting to pout with your lips puckered together. Her grip was beginning to ache, the pressure of your teeth beneath her fingertips uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything about it, not that you would’ve been able to. Olivia knows your body, she knows when something is too much, or when it's just uncomfortable enough to send you spiraling into pleasures and overwhelming bliss. You’re on the right track right now, she just needs to lay it on a little more.
“Well, I’d love to make that better for you, sweetheart, but I just don’t want to right now. Mommy had a long day, let her play with you for a little bit, okay?” She coos eventually, but it’s condescending and you know it. There’s a pitch to her voice that cuts right through your heart, and you find yourself whining hopelessly between her palms. Your thighs press together, and Olivia puts an end to that with a slap to your thighs. “Be good for me, baby.” She redirects your frustration with two fingers slotting between your lips in the same second that her grip on your cheek disappears, trailing lower until she can grip your neck, her fingers careful, tight but not digging. “Suck them, baby. Get them nice and wet.”
You dutifully do just that, hollowing your cheeks around her fingers, letting your tongue lap at every groove in her knuckles that have gotten more pronounced with age. Her fingers don’t have the same elasticity as someone in their thirties, still young enough to think wrinkles and constant joint pain was on the horizon of some far away future, and the reminder that she was older, of higher authority, your boss, it put an end to the last sting of consciousness sparking to life inside your brain. Your mouth created a delicate suction around her fingers, suckling every few seconds until you matched the beat of her heart in her fingers, the pulse beneath your tongue something addicting until she pulled it away. Your cry of loss was desperate, and Olivia cooed, her eyelashing batting at you without sympathy, not that you could tell.
Her wandering hands that hadn’t even dared to try and test the waistband of yours pants on the walk home found that silver button with ease in the darkness of your bedroom, the lamp on the dresser connected to a switch on the left sight of the door not even turned on despite how dim the yellow light glows in your bedroom anyways. You hadn’t thought about it, neither of you. She’d been so close to you then that the brown of her eyes had been bright enough to memorize, but she’s stepped back from you now, and you can’t see her. You don’t have tim to think about it, because Olivia’s fingers pull your button loose, somehow without the two digits you’ve damped, and then you’re totally gone, lost in pleasure as her fingers sweetp through your folds clumsily. The act is purposeful, tactical. She nudges your clit uncaringly, probing your weeping hole as she makes a face of contemplation, going faster when it seems like she’s not satisfied with the squelch her fingers are creating. She sinks just one into you, only up to the first knuckle, and you would’ve thought you were back in her office had her wrist not snapped and that single digit soon became two, and then four.
A relentless pace was set, and you saw stars, your head falling backward as breathy gasps and pants slipped into the air. You could feel that coil spinning in your belly, getting tighter and tighter with every scrape of her heel against your enlarged nerves. The sensation was building, budding, but then it was gone, and her hand was in front of her face, and she was liking her fingers clean with a smug smile as she nodded.
“Those panties are absolutely ruined, baby girl.” Olivia pouts and your cheeks blush, red hot and clammy beneath her intimidating glare. She’s so sweet, so soft with you, but you know she wants to be mean. You know that her kindness is a distraction from what she won’t say, but uses her fingers to express. She’s cruel, truly evil sometimes, but when she seals every denial with a pet name that makes your heart soar, how can you realize that she’s breaking you apart. “Come on, let Mommy get you undressed.”
You didn’t have to be told twice, eagerly raising your arms above your head so that she could strip you down. Both of your guns had already been put away, no matter how much Olivia wanted to rip your clothes off, she’d never risk either of your safety. Tucked away in your nightstand, they’d be retrieved again tomorrow morning. But for right now, you think about her hands trailing across your torso when she takes your top off. She turns you around, pulls you back against her chest, her breath is fanning across your neck and its tantalizing.
She tells you that you look beautiful as she trails kisses along your neck until she reaches your earlobe. Her teeth are a dull sensation that you notice when she sinks them into the softest part of your neck behind your jaw, her fingers working on your bra in tandem with her bruising efforts. She lets the material slip off of your shoulders, and when your breast are free, exposed to her in the comfortable air of your bedroom, she lets her fingers be crueler than her words, and calls you a plethora of sweet names until you’re sure there’s a war raging in your belly, her twists and turns and pulls and pinches on your nipples pulling you into pleasure that’s blinding and severe. She’d discovered she could make you cum with nipple stimulation years ago, and while she thought it’s as hot, you thought it was hell. It was intense, all encompassing, the intensity was exhausting, but there was no enjoying it either. The orgasm came quick, it built even quicker, and then it was over and your tummy felt uncomfortable chasing pleasure that had already ended.
Olivia doesn’t let the pleasure build to that point though, and you can’t help but think that this is now the fourth time she’s built you up and denied you and you’re truly not sure how much more of this you can take before the tears start falling and you plead for anything more than empty touches.
You don’t have time to beg, you’re going to, it’s the only thing you can think of actually, but then you’re distracted by her getting on her knees behind you, her hands on your hips until they’re trailing down your thighs. She trails them up again, grabbing the globes of your ass just once, before she’s continuing up until her fingers grapple with the waistband. She eases them down your legs, and when she taps your ankle, you step out of them one leg at a time, wobbling for a moment before Olivia laughs and steadies you. It’s a momentary lapse in her reserve, and it brings comfort over you that you didn’t even know you craved.
She doesn’t waste time letting your panties stay around your waist, they’re the next thing to go, and you shiver when she taps the inside of your damp thighs, sticky with arousal she’s evidently pretending not to notice. You step out of the sodden garment, and then she guides your legs apart, and the rush of air hitting your core makes you whine, your hips jumping. Olivia chooses that moment to bite into the back of your thigh, her arms wrapping around your waist to keep you steady when she anticipates the jolt that comes next. A moan rips through your chest, and the vibrations of her moaning shot tingles through your spine.
She lets her tongue run up your thighs, humming in appreciation for the taste that spreads across her tongue every time she swallows. She takes her time cleaning you up, worshiping one thigh with kitten licks and nips before she moves onto the other one. She doesn’t let an inch of your skin go untouched by your tongue, and when she finally gets to the apex of your thighs, you let out the most disappointed moan when her tongue doesn’t immediately part your folds. She takes her time there too, lips wrapping around a lower lip before the sunken loosened and she pulled away with a pop that made your cheeks flame. The other side is just as tedious a process, but she takes you by surprise when one second she’s biting at the softest flesh between your thighs and in the next she’s between your thighs entirely, licking a bold stripe up your slit and moaning unabashedly into your core when that honeypot of moisture dripped onto her tongue.
She’s careful not to flick that sensitive bud too harshly, focusing solely on cleaning you up before she lures you to bed. Your hips twitch, attempting to grind down and find pressure, but she keeps you still, tsking against your core and your eyes roll into the back of your head in bliss. It all ends prematurely, but this time she hadn’t been working you up with the intention to let you down, so the disappointment of her disappearance doesn’t hit as hard.
She guides you to the bed, tells you to lay down, to get comfortable, but you stop her with a hand tangling into the hem of her blouse. “Want to see you.” You plead, and Olivia smiles, letting her palm cup your cheek as she leans down to kiss you sweetly, everything else that had been behind her ministrations falling away.
Olivia appeases your request, stripping down quickly until the sliver of moonlight peaking through the blinds illuminates her body just enough for your eyes to memorize its shape. Her weight disperses on the bed when her knees straddle either side of your waist and her hands frame your head. She kisses you deeply, passionately, and then her lips trail, leaving marks on your chest only where she knows your tops will cover easily. The sole mark on your neck will be light work in the morning, and Olivia knows your limit with marks, and she’s never gone beyond what you’re comfortable having to cover up for a couple of days while they heal.
“How do you want me, baby, hm?” She asks you gently, but the choice isn’t really yours. She doesn’t think her words even reach you, your eyes closed, mouth agape as your back arches off the bed into her chest as your head tilts back at an angle she thinks is definitely uncomfortable. “How about my fingers, yeah? There you go, take them, sweetheart. You’re doing so good, there you go, how does that feel? Tell me, honey, how does it feel to be stuffed with my fingers?” She coaches you, slotting her body until her core is against your thigh. You barely recognize the fact that she’s using you to get off, but if you had, you’d have fallen into this floaty, pleasure drunk headspace regardless. Olivia knew what it did to you when she claimed her pleasure by whatever means she wanted.
“G-Good.” You choke out, only because her words had been accentuated with a sharp snap of her wrist, forcing you to focus on them, to absorb them and process them. “Feels good, Mommy! O-Oh, right there, right there, please! Please!” You should be humiliated that she’s built you up to this point so quickly, but she’s denied you five times now, and that’s not easily forgotten. Every muscle tenses and quivers as the coil builds in your belly, Olivia’s shamelessly just as close, her ministrations affecting her as much as it had affected you. She grinds against your thigh and gasps when a particular thrust changes the angle, the pressure. She rocks her hips harder, another finger slipping into you, three digits keeping you open for her.
She massages that spongy part inside of your walls, pressure ebbing and flowing as she flicks back and forth, stretching apart before everything becomes small again. “You're close already, baby?” She can’t help herself, and the whine you return is enough to make the small moment of cruelty worth it before she apologizes with a bruising kiss, panting against your lips when she pulls away. “Hold it for me.” She can see your face twitching, scrunching up in pleasure that you have no control over, but she asks that of you anyways, because you're a good girl, her good girl, and she knows you’ll make it until she can get herself to fall apart with you. “Tense your thigh, yeah, just like that baby, oh fuck, fuck, no no, hold it, angel, hold it!” She’s desperately, panting against your mouth, too uncoordinated to kiss you. Her fingers are getting lazy, wild, but it feels so good. You’re right there, climbing close, coil breaking little by little and if you don't let it snap soon it’s going to entirely fall to pieces one by one until you're broken and weightless beneath her.
“Please! Please!” You beg, tears slipping down your face finally, everything crumbling at the last possible moment but its perfect timing for Olivia.
“Okay, okay, cum for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it, let go.” She works her fingers harder, really focusing on it now, and her hips grind against your thigh until they don’t, going still as she pants, comes down from her high. Her fingers are still working inside of you, still pumping, and you think she’s evil for doing this to you when she’s too sensitive for another herself, but you can’t tell her that when moans come one after the other until you’re whining, nearly screaming, crying and thrashing beneath her but she doesn’t let you escape. “You’re doing so good, so good. My good girl, just one more. I know you can do it, give me one more honey.”
You explode, and Olivia grins, kissing you softly as she works you through it carefully, avoiding your clit, just letting her fingers move until she knows you’re done, worn out. You feel every ridge as she pulls them out, and once you’re empty, slightly gaping, pulsing from the absence of her fingers, you whine softly. Olivia shushes you sweetly, and when she moves to get up, to run to the bathroom and get a wet rag to clean you up before you crash, you shiver when the air catches on the wetness she’s left behind, turning its warmth cold and uncomfortable in seconds.
Olivia apologizes with another kiss, though you both know she’s not really sorry at all, and she slips out of the room. You’re hanging onto consciousness when she comes back, awake enough to blink at her and smile softly when she tells you she loves you, and when she slips into bed, the rag thrown on the floor where your clothes are still scattered, she tells you to stop getting hurt at work otherwise she’s going to bench you. You just laugh, because you know she would’ve even dream of it.
content warnings. 18+ MDNI, nsfw content, SMUT, female-bodied reader, semi-public sex, office sex, detective! reader, age-gap (reader late twenties, olivia show accurate), established relationship, power inbalance(?), fingering,
author's note. i can't get her off my mind i cant i cant i CANT I JUST CANT, so you guys may suffer with me for this short fic.........
"s-so here is where you need to r-run through...." you gasped, your body shaking as you point out the sentence in the documents for the captain to see. olivia nodded, moving the tip of her pen onto the paper, the ballpoint already leaking blue ink onto the white sheet before she underscores the short phrase.
you seriously thought after offering to write up her reports for her meant to take a break and try to temp your boss? olivia benson might have been your girlfriend but that meant nothing when she was working, and you single handedly choose the worst day to go against her wishes.
but this is what you wanted, right? have her hot and bothered, never thinking of how you would make her blood boil with your misbehaving and your pathetic whines didn't even earn any pity from her as you sat on her lap, her fingers moving oh so slowly in and out of you.
"come on, aren't you going to continue, pretty girl?" you attempt at nodding was weak, your figure twitching when she curled her fingers the slightest in you. and so, you try to continue, reaching out for the pen but when you do, the pressure is so sudden you fall back against her with a sharp cry.
"everything e-else should be just fine...-!" your head knocked back as olivia's other hand sneaked under your shirt, pulling your bra down the slightest just so her fingers could freely play with the mound of flesh and fat. toes curling, mewling out a filthy "oh captain!" more than a hundred times as she continued the now merciless pace of abuse on your clenching walls.
and what would happen if someone opened in? seeing you putty in the captain's hands, huh? you and her both knew it would start a scandal, a detective like you with the prestigious nypd legend under such intimate situation. seeing you squeal and come all over the captain's fingers, your cum dripping onto the floor- it would be a humiliating one, being assigned into a different unit as the black sheep who tried climbing the ranks in bed.
something that will never happen, the two of you getting caught- she locked the doors after you came in but seeing you trying to keep your voice down and failing was just a bit too sweet to pass on.
