going to restate the nsfw part. warning for rape/dub-con & bondage, please do not read if these upset you
id just like to apologize for this. this is my second fanfic, and the first time i've written something like this. P
And You Will Be Your Own Undoing
You wake up to a painful throbbing in your head and groan, wondering what you possibly did yesterday to warrant this sort of ache. And then you realize that your eyes are open, but you can't see, even though you're lying on your back. You blink, and your eyelashes brush uncomfortably against something soft covering your eyes. You try to pull this soft thing away from your eyes, only to find that your arms are trapped underneath you by the very same thing. You tug at your binding, but whatever it is, it's tight.
As you struggle, fuzzy memories of the events leading up to your situation begin to surface. Lorax had come to you after another unsuccessful day of selling your thneed, shouting about factories and you breaking your promise. And then, with his strange nature magic, you were in the valley, but you could barely recognize it. The sky was filled with dark, heavy clouds, and the earth was dying and covered with stumps, only a few truffula trees dotting the hills. You looked around in horror, grasping for words and unable to find anything. Lorax only nodded at you sadly.
"But… but how? What…"
The Lorax pointed a fur-covered finger in the direction of a large cluster of buildings, the source of the clamor and smog drowning the land. "The one that did this can't hear the trees' cry; I only hoped you might give it a try."
You followed Lorax to this city, through bustling, smoky streets up to the largest building of all. All the while, a horrible nagging feeling pulled at you, asking you what could have possibly happened to the valley to lead to this.
You shoved open towering doors and he raced inside through your feet. Bickering immediately spouted up, and you stepped past the doors to find the Lorax standing up to a couple of bulky-looking – wait those are your brothers. Your mind was jammed somewhere between 'what are they doing here' and 'when did they start looking terrifying?'
One of them reaches menacingly for Lorax, and you're about to step in when a sharp voice cuts through Lorax's shouting. "Our usual guest, is it?"
Your brothers stepped aside then, and a man dressed in a green suit strode in, and this guy looked just like you and your thoughts pretty much shut down at that point.
His eyes were obscured by some silly-looking goggles, but he grinned discomfortingly and you could tell he was looking at you. "My, my. Boys, our guests look awfully tired, wouldn't you agree? Help them off to sleep, why don't you."
And Brett had moved in on you, and before you could act, he had a grip on you and there was pain and darkness.
And now, from what you could tell, you're being held hostage by some terrible version of yourself. You groan again, trying hopelessly to tug your bonds loose, dreading your situation more with every passing moment.
You hear the creak of a door and you freeze, praying it isn't him, that maybe Lorax got free and came to find you. Your hopes are shattered with a chilling snicker and the sound of footsteps approaching you.
"You aren't still asleep, are you, Oncie?" It was your voice but darker, filled with a venom you'd never thought possible.
There's no way you're going to give anything away. You hate everything about this situation and just kidding about that first part because you feel gloved fingers trail up your chest. You squirm as far away from his touch as possible, and wait where the fuck is your shirt.
He laughs again, and your stomach lurches. You thrash violently, but he's quick to pin you down to this is a bed oh god there is no way this is happening to you. Your legs aren't bound – thank god there are pants on those at least – and you try to kick at him. Even if you had managed to land a blow, it wouldn't matter, because he sits himself firmly on your crotch.
Through gritting teeth, you growl, "Get. Off. Me."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Oncie dear." His grip eases from your shoulders, one set of leather-clad fingers tracing lightly down your stomach while the other slid up your neck. You scowl, thinking of all the things you'd do to this monstrous specter of yourself if he weren't so good at tying knots.
He chuckles softly, right next to your ear, and you nearly jump out of your skin. "The thneed is truly a great thing, don't you think?" This bastard is using your own invention against you, fuck, you can't even believe this is happening. "Someday you'll see it too, just like everyone else has, how wonderful our creation is."
You jolt then, because you suddenly understand – what it was that happened to the valley, and why Lorax brought you with him to stop it. "We're… no, you're the one that ruined everything. You broke our promise."
The feeling of his tongue on your neck makes you start again. You try to pull away, but you can't move far, and the moistness easily follows you, dominating the tender flesh below your jaw. "That silly orange thing is a fraud," he murmurs against your throat. You tense painfully when sharp teeth press against your skin, grazing down your neck, and it's everything you can do not to shudder. "You're too naïve to see it, but he's holding you back from what you're meant to be."
His hand, all the while, strays further south, and it's becoming more and more difficult to remember why you need to – no, you know what you saw, you can't let this man get away with it. Fingers dance across the sensitive area above your dick, and even with a couple of layers of fabric to protect you, this is all getting to be too much.
"He doesn't want you to know what it means to have power," he whispers, nibbling on the skin between your neck and your shoulder, the fingers from his other hand tangling themselves in your hair. "To know the feeling of control." Too quickly, he yanks your head back and he bites down, hard. His palm grinds against your growing arousal, and you're powerless to stop the moan that rips from your throat. He growls in approval, licking up what is probably blood from his bite. You hate him, and you hate how good this feels, and you do your best to tell him.
"Good," he growls, his teeth sinking into the flesh below your ear. His palming at your crotch doesn't let up, and your disgust for yourself builds as you reflexively buck against his touch. He snickers at you, and apparently your mouth was hanging open, because his tongue snakes against yours before you can process any kissing. You jerk away, but the hand that was just in your hair is gripping your face tightly.
Whimpering, you allow him to take your lip between his teeth, sucking and scraping to the point of pain. His tongue brushes the soreness before slipping back to your own, pulling you into a dance that you'd lost the will to resist.
You're nearly choking by the time his lips release yours, leaving you to pant heavily while he turns his attention to your chest. His pointed tips of his gloves run down your side and you arch up, straight into waiting lips. His tongue dances over your skin, and you grind against his hand, the sensations blurring together, and you can feel yourself getting close.
And he's fucking gone. You swear, groaning in frustration as you squirm against your binds. You burn where he was only moment ago, and how desperately you need that back still disgusts you. You can hear shuffling somewhere nearby, and you grit your teeth. He's teasing you, but there's no way you'll give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.
You're convinced he'd forgotten about you when you feel the bed dip by your legs. Shadows of gloved touches ghost down your chest, and you tremble as his fingers trace along the waistband of your pants. Way too slowly, you feel him tugging the zipper down, with too much glancing contact and not enough taking them off. His fingers hook underneath the garment and yank it off in one swift tug, boxers and all. You gasp as your arousal is finally freed from its restraints. Before you can start to be relieved, he slips his hand under you and flips you onto your stomach.
You frown, about to ask what he's doing, but it becomes much clearer to you when he straddles your hips. You whimper and turn to bury your face in the bed, but pointed, leathery fingers against your lips stop you. He runs them up your lips and back down, and you let him do what he wants until he sighs and presses them into your mouth by force. Oh.
Shaking, you open your mouth wider. He shoves a couple in, nearly to the knuckle, and you choke in surprise. He only pulls back a bit; the pointed fingertips of his other hand dig sharply into your back, and you yelp, running your tongue over his fingers. You're helpless to do anything but obey, and hope for release.
His fingers press further into your mouth, and you resist the urge to gag again. Instead, you continue to lick at any available surface, and you don't stop when a third finger slips in. He finally pulls them out, chuckling as you try to hide your burning face, stifle your heavy breathing. "Still hate me?"
You groan quietly, trying to ignore him in favor of his touches, his moistened hand brushing over your ass, while the other lifted your hips off the mattress. His fingers prod in between the cheeks, nudging at your hole, and oh god there is no way this will end well, that's not what it's used for, why is this happening to you.
A leathery appendage presses past the ring of muscle, and you squirm in discomfort, wishing this could just be over. He shoves it in to the knuckle and you sob brokenly at the sudden burning. He's poking and stretching and scratching everywhere, and oh god why did you ever think this could end well.
He leans over you, tongue running up the back of your neck, oddly tender, but all you feel is the scratchy discomfort of his suit against your back and arms. Another finger slips in, but there's already so much pain that you don't even notice.
His sudden grip on your length makes you shudder, gasping lightly. His fingers are still moving in your ass, but his slow stroking takes the edge off. You feel a third, but only for a moment before he yanks them out, dropping you and leaving you on the bed for the second time. "Fuck," you sob, sore and hot and wondering if he might spare you all this if you begged for death.
You hear a snap, and a squelching noise, and his fingers are back at your entrance, this time wet and icy. You yelp when he shoves them in this time, the cold moistness more uncomfortable than anything else. His strokes are slower this time, pressing in as far as he can, probing mercilessly before slipping back. His other hand is teases the skin above your cock, touching just about everything that isn't what you need. You buck into his hand desperately, and in the act you rock back against him, and your vision swims with colors.
When you remember where you are, he's thrusting his fingers into that spot, his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder. You moan unabashed, pressing back into him, the line between pain and pleasure blurred beyond recognition. Fingertips graze your chest, sometimes delicate, sometimes clawing deep into your skin.
You don't last much longer before you come, rasping out a sound between a moan and a scream. He holds you up against him for a few moments longer; if you weren't already a shaking mess, you would be trembling at his low, growling laugh, deep enough that you can feel it against you.
A loud, brief ringing rips you from whatever terrified glow you were in. He sighs above you, pulling his fingers out of you and dropping you in your mess. You grimace, listening as he leapt off the bed, moving across the room. You hear the scuffing of fabric, and more pacing, before he finally says, "Sorry, Oncie, gotta run." You want to scream in frustration, to punch that sweet, poisonous inflection right out of his voice. Your throat, dry and raspy, reduces you to some pathetic, inaudible plea.
"Don't worry, I won't forget about you while I'm gone," he hums, his words filled with promises that you don't want to think about. A door slams and his footsteps fade to nothing, and your body and mind collapse into broken, gasping sobs.
