pairing: olivia benson x female!reader
warnings!!: NSFW / smut, dom!liv, & praise kink, alcohol
summary: a dinner date with olivia ends with her taking you back to her apartment—and pulling out a new toy she’s been dying to use on you.
———————————————————————————
It starts the way it always does—with her eyes on you like you’re already undressed.
You’re seated across from her in a cozy, dimly lit restaurant. Candles flicker on the white tablecloth, wine glasses half-full, and the soft murmur of other patrons is barely noticeable over the jazz trickling through the speakers. Everything feels intimate. Enclosed. Yours.
Olivia’s dressed in dark navy—button-up shirt slightly open at the collar, blazer slung over the back of her chair. Her sleeves are rolled to the elbow, revealing forearms you’ve thought about kissing more times than you’ll ever admit. Her hair is pinned up messily, a few strands falling loose and wild. And that smile? Crooked. Dangerous. Patient.
She’s watching you swirl the last of your wine, her expression unreadable—but her eyes are dark.
“You know you’ve been teasing me all night,” she says eventually, her voice low and velvety.
You blink up at her. “Me?”
“Mmhmm.” She leans in. “That little dress. Those legs. The way you keep biting your lip.”
You look down at your drink, flushed, smiling despite yourself.
“And now,” she adds, her voice dipping even lower, “I’m wondering what I’m going to do about it.”
She doesn’t break eye contact when she downs the last sip of her wine, then gently sets her glass aside. Her fingers slide across the table and take your hand—strong and firm, warm and certain.
“You’re coming home with me,” Olivia says simply.
You’re not sure if it’s a question. You don’t care. You nod anyway.
Her apartment smells like her—sandalwood, leather, and the faintest hint of vanilla.
The door shuts behind you with a click, and before you can turn around, Olivia’s there—her hands on your hips, lips brushing the side of your neck.
“You look so good, baby,” she murmurs into your skin. “All fucking night I’ve been thinking about getting you out of this dress.”
Your hands reach behind you to touch her thighs, her waist, anything solid. You lean into her, exhaling shakily.
“Bedroom,” she says with a quiet authority. “Now.”
By the time you step into her bedroom, your pulse is racing. The lights are dim. The sheets are turned down. And sitting on the bed like it was waiting for you—is a small pink box with clean, expensive packaging.
Your brows lift. “What’s this?”
Olivia steps around you, undoing the top button of her shirt with one hand, casually.
“I got something new,” she says, walking past you toward the bed. “Wanted to try it on you.”
She lifts the lid of the box.
Inside, nestled in velvet, is a brand new rose toy—soft silicone, sleek, and blushing pink.
She turns toward you with it in her palm, brows slightly raised. “Ever used one?”
“Good.” She sets it on the bed and walks slowly toward you, eyes scanning your face. “I want to see how you fall apart for me.”
“Take off your dress,” Olivia says softly. “And lie back.”
Your breath hitches. That voice—low and sure, no room for argument—sends heat rushing through you. You step back, unzipping the side of your dress with trembling fingers, and let the fabric fall around your ankles.
Her eyes trail over you slowly, hungrily, as if she’s been waiting for this all night.
You lie back on the bed, heart pounding in your chest, and she walks around to the side table where she’s set the toy. She picks it up like it’s something precious, testing the weight of it in her palm.
You’ve never felt this vulnerable. This seen.
“I’ve done the research,” she says, amused, running her thumb along the silicone rim of the rose. “It’s supposed to feel… intense.”
She looks at you, smile softening. “If it’s too much, you tell me.”
That changes something in her expression—something deeper. Her dominant edge never fades, but for a second, there’s something tender in her gaze. Something reverent.
Olivia kneels on the bed beside you and gently nudges your legs apart with her hand. She doesn’t rush. She watches your reaction with every movement, enjoying the anticipation stretching between you like silk.
Then she leans in, lips brushing your inner thigh. “You’re already wet for me.”
You let out a soft, broken sound as she places a slow, open-mouthed kiss over your panties. Her nose nudges you through the thin fabric before she sits back, sliding them down your legs.
The air hits your skin, and then—Olivia lifts the toy.
“I want you to relax,” she murmurs, thumb brushing the outer button before she presses it.
A soft hum fills the room. Gentle at first.
And then she brings it to your clit.
The sensation is instant. A fluttering suction, rhythmic and warm—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Your hips jump, and your eyes fly open.
Her hand presses lightly to your thigh, keeping you still.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “Take it for me.”
Your mouth falls open, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a moan. The toy pulses again, soft and focused, and your spine arches. It’s like her mouth, but somehow deeper—more insistent. Constant. Unrelenting.
She watches you squirm beneath her, eyes glued to your face, lips parted slightly as if she’s memorizing the exact second your control snaps.
“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” Olivia says, voice thick. “Falling apart and I haven’t even touched you yet.”
She increases the intensity—just one button tap.
“Too much?” she asks, tilting her head.
You’re not sure you can speak, so you just shake your head hard, jaw slack. “No—fuck—don’t stop—”
She leans down, mouth to your ear. “Beg for it.”
The suction pulses again—sharper this time—and your whole body jerks.
“Liv—please, please, I’m so close—”
“Mmh. I know, baby.” She kisses your neck, the underside of your jaw. “You sound so good like this.”
Her free hand trails up your thigh and rests gently over your stomach, grounding you, as the toy continues its merciless rhythm.
“You gonna come for me?” she asks, low and steady. “Soaked and shaking, right onto my sheets?”
You nod desperately. “Yes—yes, I—fuck—”
Your whole body locks up, thighs clamping around her wrist, hips rolling uncontrollably against the soft vibration. The orgasm takes over like a wave—crashing through you in hot, endless pulses as you moan her name over and over, half-sobbing into the sheets.
She never stops watching.
Even when your body finally goes still, trembling, breathless, Olivia gently turns the toy off and sets it aside.
You’re panting, skin flushed, eyes glassy—and she climbs up beside you, pulling you into her arms like you’re something breakable.
“You okay?” she asks softly, lips to your temple.
You nod into her shoulder, body limp but warm. “More than okay.”
She laughs gently and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Told you.”
She’s still holding you when the idea comes.
Your breathing is slower now, the buzz of the orgasm still pulsing faintly in your limbs—but your mind is sharp. Sharp enough to realize: she’s fully clothed. And watching you with that smug satisfaction like she hasn’t been silently begging for your touch all night.
You lift your head from her shoulder and meet her gaze. Her pupils are dark. Lips parted.
And maybe it’s the high of her taking you apart like that—but you want to see her lose control too.
Your fingers ghost over her collarbone, down to the buttons of her shirt.
Her brow lifts. “What do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?”
You smile. “Returning the favor.”
Her tongue flicks across her lower lip—curious now, maybe even a little amused—but she doesn’t stop you as you unbutton her shirt slowly, one after another. You push it off her shoulders, kissing the skin there as she watches you from beneath heavy lashes.
When your fingers go to her belt, she exhales—just the smallest sound.
“Maybe I want to see how you sound with this thing.”
You reach beside her and pick up the toy—still slick with you, still warm from use. You give her a look, deliberate and slow, and she tilts her head, eyes narrowing.
She lies back against the pillows, arms behind her head.
“Well then,” she says, that same dark grin tugging at her mouth, “Show me what you’ve learned.”
Your pulse pounds as you settle between her legs, pulling her slacks down along with her black lace underwear. She’s soaked—of course she is—and the sight makes your throat dry.
You kiss the inside of her thigh first, just to see her twitch. She hums.
“Don’t get shy now, baby.”
You smile up at her—and press the toy to her clit.
Even Olivia Benson can’t hide it when she’s caught off guard. Her hips jerk, her thighs tense around your shoulders, and her head drops back against the pillow.
You adjust the angle, letting it settle into that same pulsing rhythm she gave you earlier.
Her breath starts coming quicker.
“Oh, that’s—” she bites her lip, jaw flexing. “Shit, that’s good.”
You watch her come apart slowly, savoring every twitch of her, every tremble in her thighs. You ease the toy against her, building the pressure in waves, and her hands shift—gripping the sheets now instead of resting lazily behind her head.
“Look at you,” you murmur. “So cocky at dinner, and now you’re shaking.”
Her eyes flicker open, half-glazed. “You better finish what you started.”
You increase the intensity by one notch—and Olivia moans. Full-bodied, low, deep in her throat.
It sends heat right back between your legs.
“Come on, Liv,” you whisper, pressing a kiss just above her mound. “I want to watch you fall apart.”
“Goddamn you—” But her hips are rolling now, breath ragged, hands clenching into fists. She’s holding herself together by threads.
You lean closer, lips brushing her inner thigh. “Let go for me.”
Her body bows off the bed, a choked sound breaking from her lips as the orgasm hits. It rips through her, raw and unrestrained—hips jerking, legs shaking, hands gripping anything within reach. She says your name, half-growled, half-moaned, and it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.
You turn the toy off gently and toss it aside, crawling up beside her as her breathing slows.
She’s flushed, damp, trembling with aftershocks—and grinning lazily now, her eyes still closed.
“Well, damn,” she mutters, one arm flopping over her eyes. “That was…”
She huffs a laugh, turning toward you. “Fucking amazing.”
You curl into her side, resting your hand over her chest where her heart still pounds.
And then—softly—she kisses your forehead.
“Next time,” she murmurs, voice rough and low, “I’m tying you up.”
You smile against her skin. “Can’t wait.”
Her body is still warm beside you, flush with the aftermath of everything you just did to her.
You lie tangled in Olivia’s sheets, one of her arms thrown around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your stomach. Your legs are still tangled with hers, your cheek pressed to the curve of her shoulder.
Neither of you says anything for a while.
The room is filled with only the soft sound of breathing, the occasional rustle of cotton as one of you shifts slightly. The air smells like sex, skin, and something faintly sweet—vanilla from her lotion, maybe, or her hair.
Her hand drifts lower over your stomach, slowly circling your navel, dipping teasingly toward the waistband of the sheets.
“Don’t get cocky just because you made me come once,” she murmurs, voice still scratchy from earlier. “I let you.”
You turn into her, smirking. “Let me?”
“Mmhmm.” Her lips graze your temple. “Could’ve stopped you at any time.”
She doesn’t answer. Just slides her thigh between yours again, slow and casual.
You close your eyes, exhaling shakily. Your body is still buzzing, oversensitive and aching in the best way. “Olivia…”
“You were a mess under me earlier,” she reminds you softly. “Squirming. Practically begging.”
Her fingers trace light, lazy circles on your inner thigh now. Not pushing. Just reminding.
“I could’ve made you come again. And again. Until you cried.”
She shifts closer and kisses just beneath your ear.
“But I wanted to see what you’d do to me. You always get like this when I give you control for a minute. It’s cute.”
She grins against your skin. “Hot, too. But mostly because it makes me want to flip you over and ruin you again.”
Your heart skips at the way she says that—like it’s a promise, not a threat.
Then her voice changes—still low, but slower, more sincere.
“I love the way you look at me,” she murmurs. “Even when I’m bossing you around. You look at me like you’re proud to be mine.”
You open your eyes and meet her gaze. She’s close, her face serious now, lips parted like she’s waiting to speak again but doesn’t need to. You reach for her hand and lace your fingers together.
“I am,” you whisper. Her throat works once. Her fingers squeeze yours. Then she pulls you tighter, like the idea of you being anywhere but here is unbearable. “I don’t share,” she says into your hair. “You know that, right?”
You nod against her chest. “Good. Because the way you moaned my name earlier?” She kisses your forehead. “That belongs to me.”
You smile. And maybe it’s the wine, the afterglow, or the way she’s holding you like you’re something sacred—but you want to stay here forever.
“You’re mine too,” you murmur, tracing slow shapes on her ribs. “Even when you pretend you’re the one in charge.”
You yelp as she flips you onto your back again, hovering over you in one smooth, effortless motion.
“Say that again,” she warns, voice rough, playful. You laugh, breathless, heart thudding all over again. “I dare you.”
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
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