#onceler x reader

[sorialice]

the people CRAVE him subconsciously this is my theory

[nanigeni]

I really love Onceler, to me he's so evil. The 2012 version was so adorable, I just love that irony.

[b-type-a]

2 weeks since payday

The Onceler x assistant reader

Mild burn, odd behavior, uncomfortable boss, heartbroken man, everyone needs therapy, kinda joke but can be seen as serious, Tom from accounting looks like Paul Dano in my head, Delusions, obsessive behavior

WARNING: the reader is no better than him, they both are codependent in a way

A/N: This one was made on a whim, not my best work but whatever

Words: 2,335

MasterList

Another day, another slay. At least that's what I told myself when I woke up to my leaky roof and humid bedsheets. You might ask, but why? Why let the roof leak and make the bedsheets get humid and gross and possibly grow mold? Simple, I don't have money to fix the damn roof in the first place. Then you might ask, well what about your job, and that ladies, gentlemen, others, neither, is exactly why I don't have money. 

You see I work for the Onceler, a wealthy man, and not to be cliché, but I'm his personal assistant. Before you ask, no, unfortunately, he does not bend me over the desk and spoil me rotten, that's what his secretary is for apparently. No, I get extra special treatment, I get to see the even more intimate parts of him, his true self. And when I tell you it's anything but a blessing, I'm not joking. Tell me why this man asked for a coffee, I get him a coffee, and he complains I didn't get him enough coffee. I'm sorry were the five pumps of caramel and syrup, that you asked for, filling up your large coffee cup? My bad let me go bend the molecules of the cup to make it bigger, oh? You don't want a bigger cup? Sorry, let me change the rules of reality, so your cup stays the same size, but you get more coffee. Yet I in my good, kind-hearted nature decided he needed someone there for him emotionally. 

I won't lie, I have seen him in weaker moments when sales decline, and he gets stressed and has little breakdowns. I see the humanity and I feel pity, so I stick around, but at what cost, my downfall, apparently. Because showing weakness locked me in forever I guess, now even if I died, he’d probably find some way to bring me back from the dead. Just to complain about the taste of his cream cheese bagel, and how no one does it like he likes it, unless when I make it. Sometimes I wonder if the secretary has it better, but then I remember how easily replaceable she is and come to the conclusion, yes, she has it easier because at least she can be free one day. Also, this whole time I was driving to work by the way, I know, you probably still imagined me in bed, but I'm a maladaptive daydreamer I have these kinds of conversations with myself while getting work done. Anyway, as much as I like inner dialogue at some point I'll have to encounter real talking, like with others, and enjoy the silence with me for only a moment longer.

KNOCK KNOCK

Moment of silence ruined, I look over to my left and see the bishop boy, no older than 17, no younger than 15, he's a bubbly kid, with a Brooklyn accent, slick back hair, Jesse from Full House aesthetic. he was a good kid, a great kid even, but I wasn't really in the mood for his usual morning greeting that consisted of many questions.

“Mornin’, how has your mornin’ been? Mine's been well, did you eat today? I didn't, I was almost late today, how was traffic?” I nodded my head along, not retaining any information the kid was springing at me.

“That's lovely kiddo, wanna let me in, thanks” The kid chuckled and nodded going over and pressing the buzzer, opening the gates.

I waved in thanks before driving up into the parking spot just for the Onceler's personal team, I pulled my car up next to the secretary’s car and parked. Glancing over, I see Tom from accounting in the passenger seat back and the windows seemed fogged up. I rather not think too hard about it, and quickly got out of my car and rushed inside. As I make my way down the long, horribly red and green hallways, I question why I keep coming back. If I haven't made it clear, which I doubt I have I never do, I haven't gotten a paycheck for about two weeks. Yup, you heard me, two weeks. I am also pretty sure I've made it this far because he pays for my bills. But also, he doesn't give me extra money for things like my leaky roof, clothes, eating out in places, not that I need to do that last one. He always takes me somewhere to eat for lunch as an excuse not to go to meetings. Still, I kinda like the other two things, he gives me enough to survive but not to live, you know. 

I walk up to the big doors I've grown to resent, glancing at the secretary's desk, she's obviously not there, she was busy with Tom in the parking lot after all. I mean, pop off I guess, none of my business. I look back up, pushing past the doors and seeing the man himself, being a stalker. He was looking out his window, probably at his secretary's car that had been presumably parked there a suspicious amount of time without his lovely secretary leaving it. I didn't know what to do, should I save him the realization or let this play out? Then I realized if he got all down in the dumps, I was going to be the one he cried on while drinking half a glass of whiskey before passing out and later vomiting. I quickly coughed and caught his attention, he turned, not really wanting to look away from the car.

“Hey, your Pookie can wait. She literally works just outside your office every day, hurry up you have a thick schedule as always” I knew mentioning the boring stuff would make him groan in annoyance and look to me to make a whiney complaint. Perfect, he's distracted.

“I hate actually working, can't I just work on my Thneedville model” There he goes with the complaining again.

“You did that once because I was sick and your secretary is easily manipulated by your fake charms and ended up missing all your meetings. Caused marketing to be held back a few days and everything to fall behind the deadline” I sighed rolling my eyes, so the headache began.

“Listen, I don't pay you to lecture me” He huffed walking over to me with his slender frame, the white button-up and loose tie dangling from his neck, followed by his long green gloves and black slacks. No shoes tho, though he either roamed barefoot or with socks when he was in his office, something about the comfort. 

“You actually don't pay me at all” He rolled his eyes at my comment, and he leaned on his desk.

“I don't need to, you live fine, I pay for your bills” He smirked like what he said was worth a mic drop, as if.

“And yet, my roof is leaking, and I don't eat breakfast or dinner because I have literally no money at all. Most people are either broke or rich or somewhere in between of being in debt or constantly spending money, I am like none of them. My bank account is always at zero” God please someone get the secretary to distract him I'm already going insane, it's been 20 minutes on a Monday.

“Whatever, hey, did you happen to see Miss. Trudy on your way in? I saw you park next to her and I haven't seen her come out yet” God that's not what I meant by distracting him with the secretary, do you hate me?

“No, I haven't technically seen her, I was too busy getting inside” Please be enough.

“What do you mean technically? So you know where she is?” Bro, the universe wants me dead for trying to be a good person.

“She's been busy from what I know” Spare him the details, good thinking me.

“With what?” I'm about to jump out the window, I swear.

“Tom” Short and simple.

“Tom? From accounting? For what? I don't need anything from them?” She does apparently

“Who knows, can we get back on topic, you have a meeting in like 30 minutes, and by in 30 minutes I mean 30 minutes ago you had this meeting in 30 minutes” I looked at the schedule that we were already behind in. 

Jeez, already screwed over by the secretary and stupid Tom in accounting. It's like working for 10 kindergartners in a trench coat, always having to refocus him from his obsessions. He groaned but went to grab his shoes. I still don't remember when he got comfortable enough to just do that around me. I don't care, as long as he keeps the grippers locked up, The summer was brutal, no more comments about it. 

Anyway, we went about our day, a few stranglers here and there nothing severe, until about 6 in the afternoon, late I know, don't remind me. He wanted to say goodbye to his special little secretary and I being tired wasn't paying attention to how you could literally see her being held by Tom from the shadow around the corner. Cliché as HELL, and maybe that's why my life sucks, this is some crap you see in fan fiction that you find at like 3 AM for the hell of it. My point is, that we turned the very uncomfortable corner to a very sloppy-I mean-sappy make-out session between the two. I was too late to try to distract the Onceler the damage was done, he immediately blew up on Tom, one because that was his little obsession Tom was kissing, but also because the poor fella was hella butt hurt. In his rage, he fired them both before dragging me away to his office, probably to rant about professionalism before crying and drinking. Guess either way I was going to get to this point, at least we got through most of the schedule before the crying and screaming.

“I can't believe this! She was just casually swapping spit with TOM, of all people! TOM, from accounting! No one willingly kisses anyone who works in accounting. Did I mean anything to her? I gave her my everything and she just threw it away!” Wow, he really loved that girl, I thought it was just his ego, but he looks like he just caught his girlfriend cheating on him.

“You guys were never official, seemed more like a repetitive fling”

“A fling!? She wasn't just a fling, she was my world, and she was supposed to be mine, I wanted to ask her out but, you keep making me be responsible and crap, now, now I know she never really was mine to begin with, huh?” He looked down, falling back into his office chair and covering his face, crap, this is a lot more serious than I thought it would be.

“Look at the bright side, if she didn't see you as someone worth her time. Then maybe it was for the best you guys didn't get serious” I went over and leaned on his desk crossing my arms over my chest, trying to seem reassuring in my tone.

“I know” That was probably the least convincing tone I've ever heard.

“Listen, it's not the end of the world, you're rich and young and decent, I'm sure there are plenty of people who would like a chance with you.” I mean, I'm not lying to him technically.

“Ya but, how many of them would like me for me” Damn it do you always have to ask the hard-to-answer questions man

“Love, real pure love, is hard. Rich, poor, young, old, it doesn't matter, it's hard, and it will stay hard forever, but you can't let it beat you up like this” Where is this coming from? When did I get so wise about love, I guess the coach doesn't play, right? Or is there something under my skin surfacing? I'm probably just tweaking.

“I guess… Hey, do you, ever think about me outside of work?” Random, but also a valid question, do I?

“Well, I mean, if I think about it, I guess I do, do you think of me?” Am I possessed or something? What's going on here

“Sometimes, before I sleep, sometimes because of that I see you in my dreams” That's, nice? I'm not really sure if this is making me feel warm because it's embarrassment, or something deeper. Oh, crap, is this deeper?

“That's nice… How are you feeling?” Good, let's change the topic, good idea.

“Better, I guess, I was just, overreacted and, I also, realized something about myself”

“That's good to hear” The silence after that was loud, it was just us, in his office alone, I wasn't sure what I was feeling, or how this conversation would affect the future. This really made me think about things, things I never thought of before, like, how, even if the secretary was set free, was that something I really wanted deep down. Did I actually enjoy being his constant, his real help, his real rock? Was this an eye-opening experience to the relationship we have and how intimate it really is, sure it not the normal kind he had with Miss. Trudy, but it's more than just the physical. How have I never noticed, am I really that distracted?

“So, wanna go get food” The words left me without permission, but I wouldn't say I regret it, I wouldn't say I want to take it back. I don't think I ever wanted to quit, not out of my own kindness but out of something more. He stood up with a soft smile, one I brushed off but now, I really saw it, the small way he smirked with his teeth showing a little. I smiled back, maybe this was the start of something worth my time, worth the headache and the complaints.

“Yeah, I'm down”

I think, I think this is worth it, maybe I can enjoy my job for once.

“I still need to get paid”

“Yeah whatever”

“I'm serious”

“I know”

[kanescrochet]

You’d known the Once-ler for what felt like forever, well, since the beginning of his crazy business ventures that had made him infamous in the eyes of the world. But to you, he’d always been the same awkward, slightly frazzled man who’d fumble with words, knock over things by accident, and yet somehow charm his way through even the worst situations.

You two had grown close over time, not romantically, not at first, but in the kind of friendship that feels like it’s always been there. Late-night conversations over cups of lukewarm tea, him complaining about corporate idiots while you rolled your eyes, sharing inside jokes only the two of you found funny. And somewhere along the way, you realized you liked him. More than a friend.

You noticed it in the way your stomach flipped whenever he laughed at something stupid you said, the way your chest warmed whenever he let you into his office to escape the chaos of his work. And now, as he sat across from you in that cluttered little room of his, fiddling nervously with a pen, you felt the tension thickening.

“Y’know,” he started, scratching the back of his neck like he always did when he was nervous, “I’ve been thinking… maybe I’m not… I don’t know, maybe I’m not great at this… people stuff…”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with a teasing smile. “People stuff? That’s a very scientific term, Once-ler.”

He blinked, then chuckled softly, a little embarrassed. “I mean… feelings stuff. Romantic stuff.”

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and it was too genuine, too warm. “Oh, now that’s terrifying. You, bad at romance?”

He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “I’m a disaster.”

But then his voice softened, and your heart caught: “But I’ve… I’ve been thinking about you. A lot. More than just… y’know, friends.”

You froze. The air in the room seemed to shift. He peeked at you from behind his hands, eyes wide and vulnerable.

“I… I just don’t want to mess up what we have,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart ached for him, the sincerity clear, and yet your own feelings had been simmering under the surface for months, maybe years. You reached out, gently touching his hand. “Once-ler… you won’t mess anything up. I’ve… I’ve felt the same way for a long time.”

He looked up, disbelief and hope warring across his face. And then, slowly, a shy, almost boyish grin spread across his lips. “Really?”

You nodded. “Really.”

It wasn’t dramatic. There were no fireworks. Just a quiet understanding, a shift in the world around the two of you, as if the universe had been holding its breath until now. He reached across, hesitantly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, and your chest fluttered like it always did when he was near.

“Then… maybe we can… try this?” he asked softly.

You smiled, leaning closer, your forehead resting against his. “Yeah. I think we’d be really good at it.”

And for the first time, the Once-ler laughed without nerves, a sound that was full and free, as if it had been waiting for this moment. You laughed too, and it felt like coming home.

Because some friendships, you realized, were just waiting to bloom into something more.

[loraxswiftie]

swirling snowflakes & red-hot desire.

[ A 1972 Once-ler fic. ]

pairing: The Once-ler (1972) x Fem. Reader

summary: You've just bought yourself a new dress on the Once-ler's dime—the least you can do is model it for him. // A quiet snow day is a day spent with your lover, devoting yourself to him and treasuring each second you get to have him all to yourself, just like a good little wife should.

word count: 1,420

warnings: traditional gender roles and suggestive content.

author's note: I've been tinkering with some original character development for the Once-ler for about a year or so, because the canon version of him in the Lorax film just wasn't doing it for me. I think I've managed to capture him in a light that I prefer and developed his character, writing him much differently than as depicted in the popular 2012 film. I believe my interpretation stays a little truer to the 1972 version, with my own personal spin, and contains multiple aspects of this earlier depiction.

That being said, If you are looking to read a fic about the 2012 canon-compliant Once-ler, you won't find that here. This is my version and an entirely different interpretation of the character; I hope you enjoy.

The Once-ler reclined in his favorite armchair, the rich, supple leather creaking comfortingly as he sank into its familiar embrace with a hand on his stomach, full from the delicious dinner you prepared and had waiting for him when he had returned from work for the day. 

His imposing frame filled the seat; at well over six feet tall and nearly 300 pounds, he was a mountain of a man. 

The living room was bathed in a warm, amber glow from the crackling fire in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls. Outside, the snowstorm howled with unrelenting fury, the wind rattling the frosted windowpanes and obscuring the night in a swirling veil of white. 

Inside, all was tranquil and serene. 

The Once-ler reached for his whiskey, the cut crystal tumbler glinting in the firelight. The ice cubes clinked gently as he lifted the glass to his lips and took a savoring sip, relishing the smooth burn as the aged liquor rolled across his tongue and warmed him from within. Tendrils of fragrant cigar smoke curled lazily overhead, the heady aroma mingling with the scent of aged hardwood and old books. 

Soft jazz music played on the vintage record player, the soulful notes of the saxophone a perfect complement to the soothing crackle of the fire and the muffled din of the blizzard outside. 

He gazed out at the whiteout conditions, watching the snowflakes swirl and dance on the wind, and felt a deep sense of peace wash over him. 

When you came into the room, he gazed adoringly, drinking in the sight of you, a vision of loveliness, and it was clear that you had dressed up just for him, since there was no hope of going out anywhere in such conditions. 

The dress you wore was exquisite - a short, form-fitting number in a delicate cream color that hugged your curves in all the right places.

The hem barely grazed your mid-thigh, showcasing your long, shapely legs. A flirty ruffle of lace trimmed the low-cut neckline, drawing the eye to the graceful curve of your neck and collarbone. The fabric of the dress was strewn with tiny red hearts, a playful nod to the upcoming Valentine's Day holiday, but it was still almost a month away. 

The festive print made you look sweet and flirtatious, the perfect combination to make his pulse race. 

He couldn't take his eyes off you as you twirled lightly, the skirt of the dress flaring out to give him an enticing glimpse of more bare skin. 

His heart swelled with love and desire, overcome with the need to take you in his arms and show her just how irresistible you were to him. He produced a thick cigar from his breast pocket and with a deft flick of his antique silver lighter, he set the end aglow and took a long, indulgent drag, pungent blue-gray smoke billowing from his nostrils.

His deep-set, obsidian eyes followed the petite figure of his woman as you flitted around the room with exaggerated, coquettish movements, putting on a show just for him. The fabric of the angelic dress molded to your every dainty curve and contour, the flouncy skirt swishing around your thighs with every coy twirl and spin. 

Playful giggles bubbled from her glossy lips as she basked in the heat of his intense, smoldering gaze, clearly relishing the effect her titillating performance was having on him.

The Once-ler took another long, slow drag from his cigar, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the tantalizing performance of his sweet little plaything. “So, what do you think?” you asked, hands placed delicately on your hips as you posed the question to him, “was it a wise purchase?”

The Once-ler considered his answer carefully, the hint of a pleased smile still apparent on his ruddy face as his dark eyes raked over you, “Of all the things you’ve spent my money on, darling, this is one of my favorites.”

Another bout of bubbly laughter erupted from you as you crossed the room to him, stopping to cup one of his large hands between the two of yours, little fingers tenderly caressing his knuckles, “I will consider that a win. You know I like dressing nicely for you.”

The Once-ler hummed thoughtfully at that, “I know you do, little darling,” his gruff voice was indicative of the many years he’d spent as a smoker, “and might I say…you look gorgeous in that dress.”

Knowing you had pleased him filled you with an overwhelming sense of relief. 

This type of attire was not one you were very familiar or comfortable with, but his approval boosted your confidence and roused a certain sense of safety within you, reassuring you that you’d made the proper choice. 

He lifted his hand from your grasp and laid his palm against your cheek, thumb stroking the curve of your flesh and the creases of your smile, “then again, you always look gorgeous for me, sweetheart.”

A soft, pink blush appeared on your cheeks as he complimented you and you had to pull away out of concern for your ability to mask your emotion in front of him if he continued to utter sweet words of affirmation and appreciation to you. 

His thick fingers on your face made you tingle and you couldn’t help but long to compare your littler hand to his, knowing how satisfying it would be to see the startling difference between your two sizes. 

“Thank you,” you muttered, attempting to remain grateful as you moved towards the mantle where you retrieved a candle and brought it to him and, using his lighter, he lit it for you and you carried it back to set it down safely out of the way of anything flammable. 

“Of course,” He admired you appreciatively from afar as you put the candle down, “though you may want to put on something warmer now, dear. There’s a bit more of a chill in the air than even I am comfortable with.”

Your eyes widened slightly, “oh, shall I turn up the heat?”

The Once-ler let out a rumbled chuckle and shook his head, raising one hand to stop you, “No need, darling. Go and make yourself comfortable, then come sit with me. Your body next to mine would be more than sufficient.”

You did as you were told and went to your shared bedroom, where you extracted yourself from the form-fitting dress you’d donned just to receive his approval and slipped into a silk nightgown he had picked out and surprised you with for Christmas. 

Several quiet moments passed before you re-entered the living room and the Once-ler exhaled, a sigh of relief escaping him as you made your way to him, crossing the room to stand at his side while he adjusted his position before beckoning you onto his lap as he typically did at the end of every day. 

You settled onto his thigh, careful not to crowd him, as he put one arm around your midsection and held you to him. 

You could feel his heart beating, every breath he took pressing his chest more firmly against my back. 

It was comforting being held in his arms, safe and warm in the glow of the fire while you and he watched the snow fall. 

“Comfortable?”

His gentle questioning prompted an answer from you and you nodded lazily, head tilting back to connect with his shoulder as you cuddled into his warmth, “of course,” you whispered, “thank you.”

You reached down and took his hand, pulling his arm from around your waist to make it easier to hold onto him. 

His cigar, hanging loosely between the fingers of his free hand, was lifted to his lips and he inhaled, holding his breath in for several seconds before letting out a plume of smoke past your shoulder. 

As the two of you sat in silence, your petite frame perched on his thigh, his mind wandered back to the little slip of a dress you’d bought and tried on for the first time in front of him. You had looked like a perfect little jewel, his own polished, scarlet ruby which was more valuable to him than all the money in his billfold, his bank account and this year’s projected sales and income. 

Money was something everyone needed, but him?

The only thing that the Once-ler needed more than cash was this lovely darling, right here on his lap. 

[pepsi-tin-can]

[miragemurder]

The Onceler Headcanons

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NSFW Warning

Most of these head canons are sexual though there will be some fluff.

The Onceler x Gender Neutral Reader

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The Onceler is a very needy person

He loves physical touch, he practically begs for it any chance he can get

He’s borderline touch starved from the lack of a father figure and a not so good mother figure

So when you want to get all cuddly, he will jump into your lap and never let go

He loves when you mess with his hair. Rubbing, playing, yanking, he is a mess when you play with it

When you play with it, especially when he’s giving head, his eyes roll back into his head and he lets out faint whines

This man is very vocal, like can hear you from a mile away vocal

He mostly vocal when he’s in a submissive position and/or overstimulated

When he’s overstimmed, you have to hold your hand across his mouth to keep him quiet

Wails and whines pour out of that man’s mouth. He starts to mutter incoherent sentences too

Usually it gets to the point where he’s begging and pleading for you to stop (he doesn’t want it to stop, and neither do you)

His cock is very sensitive, specifically near the tip

If you hit that spot, his hips are out of control. Bucking and thrusting trying to get more of that feeling.

He pouts and whines when you hold his hips down restricting him from thrusting

When he releases, that’s when he looks the prettiest. Head thrown back, mouth agape and eyes in the back of his head. He tries to get a hold of something, to help stabilize himself

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I hope you guys somewhat enjoyed this😭

It’s my first ever tumblr head canon so I hope it’s good enough! Leave suggestions down below and I’ll make sure to follow up

[feariteriu]

the onceler: how bad can i possibly be?

tumblr in 2012: