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taintandviolent · 3 days ago

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Bliss ; Oz Cobb x Reader

summary: After trying a new drug at a nightclub, you lose your friend and run into someone else.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 4.5K | female reader, canon divergence (this kind of warps the events of episode 3 a teensy bit and uhhhh sorry about that, it's all in the name of spice), drug mention (fictional Bliss), technically mild dub con cos reader is hiiiiiiigh as shit but she's very into Oz, grinding, hook-ups, mentions of arousal (both parties), semi-public oral sex, blowjobs.

a/n: thank you for all the love on my last oz fic!! wahooo!!!! here's another, because i'm still obsessed with him! not beta-read or anything... just had to get this out. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

“Open your mouth, honey…”

You extend your tongue, obediently. The nameless (but very pretty) woman puts a triangle of translucent red candy on the meat of your tongue, and you draw it back in, sucking on it. It’s slightly sweet and melts straight away, leaving a slimy, almost syrupy finish on your tongue. You swallow it down, and look over at your friend, who had taken the Bliss before you had.

It only takes a few minutes for it to hit and when it does, your entire body feels like it’s floating, your nervous system is buzzing happily while your friend’s eyes are glazed over, a delighted smile on her face. Everything seems to sparkle like the glitter that you’d dusted your eyelids in. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah,” you echo, equally as shocked as she is. The feeling is indescribable, and you immediately understand why it’s called Bliss. You can’t recall the last time you’d felt this… elated. You’d smoked, you’d done ecstasy, but this… this was something else entirely.

The two of you collide, crushing your bodies against each other as the music throbs in your ears, thumping in your bones. Your hands explore each other’s exposed skin, tasting it with your fingertips. You’re dancing with her, your ass in the crook of her hips… and then you aren’t. The presence is suddenly gone from behind you. You spin around, searching for her face in the crowd. You spot it as she turns to wave at you.

“I’ll be back!” She shouts, nodding excitedly as she disappears into the sea of people. “I’m going upstairs!”

Even though you’re still riding the high, you don’t particularly like the concept of being alone. You try to chase after her, turning left and right to avoid the shoulders of other patrons. As you pass them, you see other people indulging in the same drug that is coursing through your system. It’s a collective high, you think to yourself, smiling. How cute.

Finally, after meandering through the crowds for a few minutes, you spot a small staircase and make a beeline towards it. Your limbs feel jello-y, and you nearly stumble as you take the stairs one at a time. Just as your foot hits the last step, you hear a stern voice calling out to you.

“Hey-hey, sweetheart.” A man gets to his feet, limping slightly as he takes a step towards you. His voice was heavy, commanding. Even in your intoxicated state, you could tell you were interrupting something. Fuck. Your head sweeps from side to side as you search for your friend.

Oz takes another step towards you, watching you closely. You were a cute little thing, all dolled up and pretty, just how he liked ‘em… but you didn’t belong here.

“This ain't an open invitation. You lost?” He nods his head, his scarred lips turning into a frown.

“I…” You slurred, blinking slowly, a dreamy smile on your face. “I lost my friend… she said she was going upstairs… is this not… is this not upstairs?”

He heaves a sigh, and seems to mutter an expletive under his breath. “Nah, doll, this ain’t upstairs.”

You blinked again, pressing the back of your palm against your lips. You pause to shift your small purse back up onto your shoulder. “Shit…”

Your eyes unfocus and focus again. The man in front of you is big in every way describable. Broad, tall, and his aura… it swallows you whole. He looks rich, dressed well. Dark hair peeks out from over his slightly unbuttoned shirt. You hum. You’d like to blame it on the drugs but you’ve always had a penchant for older men. Especially ones that looked dangerous… and he looked dangerous.

“I’m… I’m so sorry…” A girlish giggle tumbled out of your throat. “I’m… oh god, I feel so good, I’m sssso sorry to interrupt your…”

“You take somethin’?” He narrowed his eyes and nodded once.

“Yeah,” you breathe, looking into his dark eyes. “That red candy… you got any more of that?” You perk up at the idea of prolonging this feeling. Oz smiled at that, his gold teeth glinting in the light. An example had fallen right into their fuckin’ laps, and Zhao could see it firsthand. Your tongue jutted out at the corner of your mouth, and swept along your top lip, euphorically. He couldn’t help but stare, feeling the heat of arousal grip his loins.

“Gentlemen,” he said, diverting his attention before he stared too fuckin’ hard at you, his accent heavy. “As I was sayin’, Bliss is the new craze. The second it hits the streets, they’ll be bustin’ down the doors for it.”

He steps out from behind the table and ambles his way over to you. Standing next to you, he’s even taller. You tilt your head back slightly to look – no, to gaze up at him. His face is aged, and deeply scarred – the biggest one disfiguring his top lip – but it’s hot. This guy’s been in a few, and you’re sure he’s got some stories.

You giggle again, an absolutely delirious sound, and press your hand on the breast of his suit jacket, tracing tiny little circles on the fabric. “Hi…”

He smirks, feelin’ like that cat that got the canary. A pretty little thing, whacked out on Bliss, fawning over him in front of Zhao and his gang? Priceless. Oz turns his head, nodding to one of the guys sitting at the table.

“You think on our deal, and I’m gonna’ take care uh’ this one, huh?”

You visibly preen at the fact that he’s leaving his meeting to ‘take care’ of you… whatever that entails. He could’ve just told you to fuck off, but instead he takes you by the shoulders, steering you back towards the stairs from whence you came in true gentlemanly fashion. As he guides you down the steps carefully, you look behind you at the booth to see the men, all solemn, watching you as you go. Just as they disappear over the wall, you see one of them lean over to discuss something with the others.

God, his hands are fucking big on your shoulders.

“Sweetheart – where’s your friend at? You can’t be wanderin’ ‘round this club like this. It ain’t–”

“I’m safe now…” You lazily murmur, pressing your body against him. He’s wide and warm and you want to press yourself into him until you disappear. “What’s your name, big guy?”

He swallows a lump in his throat. Your tinier body pressed against his has him feelin’ things he shouldn’t be feelin’, especially seein’ as he’s in the middle of one of the most important deals of his career. The crowd is undulating around the two of you, dozens of hands outstretched towards the ceiling as though it were heaven, sweaty bodies smearing against other bodies, washed in a bright red light. The song swells in your ears, its heavy beat forcing your hips to grind against the man in front of you.

“We should dance. C’moooon. What’s your name?”

“Oz,” he says plainly, steering you around a corner, through the throngs of people. He’s in the middle of a deal, he has to keep reminding himself of that. This ain’t the time to pick up a new dame.

You repeat his name, drawing it out like a moan, hoping it sounds as good as it feels on your tongue. Another giggle, and you reach up to stroke the side of his face. “C’mon…. Dance….. With me.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel him pitch back slightly, stiffening against you. You reach up and wrap your arms around his broad neck, pressing your breasts flush against him. The warmth of his body immediately penetrates the thin fabric of your satin dress, seeping into your clammy, sweat-streaked body. It doesn’t occur to you that he’s not much of a dancer.

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” He looks over your shoulder, prayin’ that your friend will show up. You’re making it harder and harder to focus. “Where’s your friend at? Huh? ” He’s persistent. You try to frown, but your smile is too strong.

“I don’t know, silly… I said I lost her. That’s how I found you…” Your hands are still wrapped around his neck, tugging as you let some of your body weight fall, sliding against the front of him. He has no choice but to put his hands on your hips, to hold you up slightly. The touch has you reeling. “What’s she look like?”

You ignore his question. Besides it’s not like describing her in a sea of people who match the description will help him locate her.

“Don’t you wanna’ touch me, Oz…?”

That hits him and he looks down at you with a glimmer in his eye that wasn’t there before. Fuck. Guy like him? Doesn’t get this kind of attention all too often. So yeah, of course he fuckin’ does. And he is touchin’ you, with his large hands still planted on your soft, satin-clad hips, but that’s not in the way he wants. He licks his lips. It probably ain’t you talkin’, it’s the Bliss.

The music swells again, and you spin around in his grasp, pressing your back against the curve of his stomach. He makes a fist in front of your dress, gathering up the fabric just enough so that his fingers can graze the smooth skin of your thigh. It’s so soft… feels so fuckin’ good underneath his hand. Immediately, like a child that was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he lets go, and shifts himself against your body again. God damn.

You whine at the sensation, open-mouthed and dizzy. Every ounce of Bliss that was coursing through your system had you feeling better than you’ve ever remembered… and you were grinding on some hot older guy? Win-win.

Your hips continue to sweep back and forth across his body, dipping your hips back to grind against his groin. You feel movement against your ass, and he eases himself into your soft, plush cheeks, forcing more friction.

“You ain’t thinkin’ straight, doll.” He says into your ear and his hand moves back to your hips, adjusting you. He thinks about movin’ his hand between your legs, fingers teasing at the mound of flesh there. Your soft panties are hardly there to begin with, so the contact would have you both reeling. He knows could feel the outline of her, and you could feel the warmth of his fingers.

But he doesn’t, it ain’t right and for all he knows, you could sober up and be horrified by your choice. It wouldn’t surprise him any.

The warmth of his body is enough to arouse you, and you draw the side of your lip into your mouth and bite down, feeling a blush start down your neck. People are grinding on each other all around you, measly amounts of fabric impeding any actual fucking – what’s another pair?

“What? About you?” you say, looking out into the crowd, watching as others are doing the same. You lean back, pressing the side of your head against his chest, and close your eyes, letting the music take you wherever it needed to.

He mutters a yeah; you feel it vibrate in his throat.

You spin back around and the action puts Oz’s hands on the meat of your ass cheeks. He doesn’t move them, despite his previous thoughts. You snort, dismissing his insecurity. He says nothing, only looks at you, studying the features of your face.

“Ohhh, I get it.” You nod slowly, closing your eyes slightly. Your finger taps his chest a few times, punctuating your disapproving revelation. “I get it, you think I’m too fucked up to know what I’m doing, is that it?”

One of Oz’s hands leaves your body to come up and grip your chin, his thumb pressing into your bottom lip just enough to expose your teeth. You lean into his grasp, reveling in the feeling of his hand on your face. He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. It’s plush and waxy underneath the pad of his thumb, which leaves a glittering streak of lip gloss on your cheek.

“Nnooo…. It’s cute that you care… but no, the red candy –”

“Bliss,” he interjects, making sure you remember it. The more people that know it by name, the better.

“ – Bliss, okay, yeah. I’d hit on you without it.”

Oz considers that, his tongue darting out to lick his lips again. He squints at you, assessing your sincerity with a hint of intrigue.

That second of consideration is all you need apparently. You’re craning your neck towards him, your heavy-lidded gaze dropping to his scarred lips. You bite your own, and inch closer – close enough that you can smell the scotch on his breath. You tilt your head to wordlessly indicate to him where you’re headed, and he looks at your ever-approaching mouth with a restrained sort of longing. His hands are still on your waist, which you take note of.

“Hey! There you are!”

Hearing your friend’s voice, you immediately pull away from him, though he’s a little slower to let go of you. He seems less concerned with being caught; probably a by-product of his lifestyle. You turn to your friend, smiling sheepishly. She eyes the man behind you, quirking a single, defined brow. The apprehension is visible on her face.

“Heeey. One sec,” you say, before spinning back to Oz. “Give me your phone.”

You expectantly hold your hand out in front of him, opening and closing your palm a few times.

“Oh, c’mon, I know you’ve got a phone. You’re not that old.”

With a slightly perturbed sigh, he leans to the side, his hand slipping into his pocket. He retrieves the phone and holds it out to you, almost guiltily.

Hastily, you create a new contact before returning the phone to him.

“Text me if you don’t believe me. Or text me if you do believe me and are curious.” You lean up onto the toes of your heels, and whisper in his ear. “Just text me.”

With that, you reach behind you, grabbing at the air until your friend’s fingers intertwine with yours. She grips your hand tight and yanks you away from Oz, pulling you into the undulating crowd until you can’t see him anymore. She wastes no time, and immediately drags you back to the dance floor, finding the same woman who gave you Bliss the last time. You both dish out more cash and suck down the crimson shard before both of you are consumed by the drug and the need to dance.

You run your fingers through your hair, lifting it off your shoulders. “Fuck, I feel amazing….”

Only an hour passes before your phone vibrates in your bag. Licking your lips, you pull it out. It’s from an unknown number… Gotham City area code… but you know exactly who it is. A pleased smirk curves its way around your glossy lips.

It reads: You still here?

Yea lol. Are you? Your hips continue swaying back and forth to the beat.

Yes

You suck on your bottom lip for a moment, mulling over what you want to do. You’re apparently taking too long, because the typing bubble pops up again. You smirk to yourself and run your free hand through your hair, touseling it. You quickly thumb out a string of messages; you’re much faster than him.

Meet me at the bathrooms in 10

Mens

There always too many girls in ours

Oz doesn’t reply.

“Girl, I’ll be back!” You shout over the music. Your friend’s attention snaps to you, looking perplexed.

“Where are you going!?”

“I just gotta’ meet up with someone!”

The realization dawns on her and her eyes widen. “Shut up…! Is it that guy from earlier?!”

You nod.

“Are you serious?!”

You nod, looking proud. Your friend screws up her face, not withholding how she felt about him.

Sandwiching her face between your hands, you pull her head down for a loving forehead kiss. “You need to broaden your horizons, baby doll!”

And with that, you plunge yourself into the crowd, gripping your phone in your hand. A neon sign in an archway guides you to your destination. By the time you get to a vantage point where you can see the bathrooms, you spot Oz; already there, his scarred face illuminated by the glow of his phone. He looks worried, like you aren’t going to show up. After slipping your phone into your purse, you close in the distance. With a smirk, you move your hand towards him, reaching out to touch his forearm.

“You missed me, huh? Tell me you missed me…”

“What is this, a fuckin’ – “

“It took you a fucking hour to text me, baby. You were thinkin’ about me, weren’t you?”

“Maybe I was.”

Oz flattens his palm against the door, giving it a hard push until it opens. You duck underneath his arm and after casually checking your makeup in the line of mirrors to your left, fling yourself into the first open stall. Oz follows, lumbering in after you. It’s a tight fit, but you’re about to give him some breathing room.

You drop your purse to the ground, and promptly get to your knees, the cold tile floor chilling them as you do. Oz stands tall in front of you, his chest heaving with each breath. His head drops to his chest, leaning forward slightly to look at you over his stomach and he chuckles breathily, looking almost embarrassed.

“Hoh shit… you ain’t fuckin’ around, are ya?”

You shake your head as your fingers crawl up his thighs, step by step, until you get to his waist band. You unlatch the closure and reach inside the folds of fabric, finding the small zipper with your fingers. A slow, teasing tug pulls it down and you look up at him, a wanton grin on your lips. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his bottom jaw hangs slack, his brown eyes watching you with an intensity that reveals something deeper.

“You don’t do this very often, huh?”

He doesn’t answer, but his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Shit, sweetheart… you do though, dontcha’?” “Enough to know what I’m doing.” Your reply is sharp, and you punctuate it with a curt nod, swiping the pads of your fingers across his underwear to tease his quickly hardening dick. You palm the outline, rubbing it softly. Your thumb finds the tip, teasing it through the layer of fabric. Above you, Oz is still watching you intently, committing all of this to memory. You chuckle through your nose, and lean forward, nuzzling your nose against the hardness.

“Lemme’ see what I’m working with…” you murmur, before reaching up to the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down harshly underneath his balls and freeing his cock. Framed by a thatch of black hair, it bobs heavily in front of your face, clear beads of pre-cum already leaking from the slit. You breathe hotly, causing it to twitch slightly. He pitches forward, bumping the tip into your lips and leaving a string of pre-cum stretching from your bottom lip to his dick. You lean back, just out of reach and laugh, watching as his expression contorts. You beam, pleased. The smile is mischievous; you love giving head because of the power it gives you, quite literally holding it in your hand.

You bring your hand up to his dick, wrapping your fingers just underneath the tip. The girth is impressive, even here. With a smirk, you tighten your grip and drag your thumb over the head, bringing some of that luscious pre-cum down onto his shaft. You drag your fist away from your face, watching as the skin slickens underneath your fingers. With a clang of metal against metal, Oz grips the side of the stall tight to steady himself. You haven’t even put your mouth on his dick yet, and he’s already acting like he’s going to topple over.

“Easy, Oz…”

Your tongue stretches out past your teeth, flattening over your bottom lip. Taking hold of his cock hastily like a toy, you slap it wetly against your tongue a few times to rile him up. It works; his breath hitches in his throat and he drops his head back against his broad shoulders. His body temperature is rising, even you can feel it rolling off of him. It’s a nice contrast to the chill of the bathroom.

You swallow once, relaxing your throat before leaning forward to wrap your lips around the cockhead. Your tongue, still flat, massages the underside of his cock as you push your head down onto him, not stopping until your nose reaches his pubic hair. Oz can’t help the sounds that tumble from his mouth; low, tight groans and a string of expletives as you deep throat his cock. His free hand comes down to the back of your head, caressing your tresses and he lets out a deep sigh, adjusting to the warmth of your mouth. You feel the tension in his grip and know that he’s fighting the urge to grip your hair, controlling the speed at which your mouth pleasures him. Your blood is buzzing in your ears, hazy with arousal.

You pull back and he inhales sharply as you open your mouth wider before diving back down, letting the tip hit the back of your throat. You gag and your eyes snap shut, tears welling at the corners.

“That feels so fuckin’ good. Shit, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks cave as you suck him off, bobbing your head back and forth.

“God damn, that mouth uh’ yours…”

You pull off his cock with a wet slurp and look up at him, dizzy with lust, before reaching up behind your head. Your smaller hand closes around his large hand, forcing him to make a fist in the soft strands before trailing over his wrist, fingers catching on the metal of his gold bracelet. “It’s okay, Oz. You can pull my hair.” Your tongue darts over your swollen bottom lip, lapping up the taste of him. “Pull it, baby. You’re doing so good…”

The comment is both a reprieve from his fat cock bullying your throat and a genuine statement. You see those dark brown eyes of his disappear under his lids as they roll back in his head, incapacitated by lust. He growls deep in his throat. Having been given direction and permission, he meticulously begins gathering it up into a ponytail, scooping all the tresses into the curve of his palm. While he does, you lazily lick at the sensitive, reddened head, teasing him further. The action practically makes his hands shake, but Oz manages to grip your hair tight and takes it upon himself to jerk his hips back against your face, sliding himself back into the warm, suctioned confines of your mouth. You nod against his cock, your nose brushing against the hair that greets you.

You want to tell him that he can fuck your face, but he’s already found a rhythm of bucking his hips into your mouth, so instead of words, the bathroom is filled with the muffled music from outside and the sloppy, wet sounds currently coming from your throat. You walk your knees out a little farther, giving yourself room to slip your hand between your thighs, and into the thin, stretchy fabric of your panties.

You feel every part of his body tense. He’s close. You know it, he knows it. You push yourself further onto his cock, until your gag reflex activates again, and Oz immediately pulls you off, backing his hips away from your mouth. Your eyes fall to his cock; the tip is glossy and reddened, almost purple, and is leaking profusely. It twitches once and you reach forward to stroke the length of it with your middle finger.

“You gonna’ swallow that load, sweetheart?”

With your throat sticky with his arousal, you swallow before speaking. “You wouldn’t ruin my makeup, would you?”

He grins and chuckles, shaking his head softly. “Nah, doll. I wouldn’t fuckin’ dream of it. Open up.”

You do. You open your mouth wide, and let him ease his cock back inside until it hits the back of your throat again, relaxing the muscles as best you can. Your finger moves from circling your own sensitive, swollen clit to delve into your wet cunt. You let out a little moan around his cock. Closing your lips around the shaft, you begin bobbing your head again, waiting for him to take control.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the hand that’s tangled in your hair goes slack, letting the strands fall back against your neck. This close to an orgasm and he doesn’t absolutely wreck your mouth? He’s got a whole suitcase full of kinks you’d like to unpack, but now’s not the time. With a crooked smile, you bring your free hand up to the base of his dick, stroking into your mouth while your tongue lets the tip grind against it. As he groans and grunts above you, you continue fucking yourself on your own fingers, pumping them in and out of your slick, dripping cunt. It doesn’t take you long to feel that first warning clench.

“That’s it, don’t fuckin’ stop, don’t fuckin’ stop–”

One of his hands comes to rest on your shoulder, gripping it tight. His thick cock twitches in your hands and you brace for the oncoming orgasm. A few more languid pumps, and he groans loud enough for it to echo against the tile walls. His grip tightens on your shoulder as spurts of hot, white cum decorate your tongue and the back of your throat. As promised, you swallow. And swallow again, and again. The heady taste of his cum brings you to the edge, and the heat reaches its peak between your legs, which snap shut at the sensation. Your cunt flutters around your fingers, arousal leaking out onto them.

You pull off his cock, swallow again and collapse slightly against his groin. His hand finds your head again, petting your hair tenderly. As you both come down off the high, there’s nothing but the distant sound of music and your ragged breaths.

Finally, you slip your arm into the handle of your purse, and albeit somewhat awkwardly, you pull one foot underneath you and push up, getting to your feet. Once Oz sees this, he helps you, lifting you carefully. Once you’re standing in front of him, you reach between your legs again, and gather your finishing with two fingers.

“Open up.” You repeat, in an almost mocking tone. Though his expression paints a story of confusion, he parts his lips slightly, just enough for you to slide two of your fingers inside. You swipe the slickened fingers over his tongue, back and forth until the slick has coated the muscle. Finally, you withdraw your fingers, watching wordlessly as Oz sucks the intoxicating taste of your orgasm down his throat.

“Thanks for that, Oz.”

“Feelin’s mutual, doll. Feelin’ is fuckin’ mutual.”