Untitled Anthropomorfic by alyse [ - ]
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Category: Anthropomorfic, Miscellaneous
Characters: None
Rating: NC-17
Genres: Crack!fic, Humour, PWP - Plot, What Plot?
Warnings: None

Summary: Fandom/Meta FTW!

Story Notes:
I possibly had too much diet coke. This was written as a result of a conversation I had with Danvers, where I ended up saying that I wanted a fic that reflected how meta threw fandom down on the table and fucked it hard.

You have been warned.

Fandom swallowed nervously, concentrating on not twisting its characterisations behind its back. It wouldn't do to have Meta see the tension that wound through Fandom's form - Meta was merciless and any sign of weakness would be pounced upon, dissected and picked over until there was nothing but Meta's sibilant whisper sounding in Fandom's ear, telling Fandom how worthless it was. Nothing but flash and shininess.

The words hurt, shivering away inside Fandom. And sometimes - most of the time - they fell on that blurred line between pleasure and pain, a good kind of hurt. While Fandom was the first to admit that it was only in the whole thing for fun, sometimes... Sometimes it just wanted a little bit more. A hint of darkness, something that wasn't all flash and no substance. It wanted someone to look at it, to see it. To see through it, see everything that it hid away inside. It didn't make Fandom weak, right? Didn't make Fandom needy, no matter what Meta said.

And if it was need, it was the good kind of need, the kind that made Fandom ache and gasp and want to be more, to have more, have Meta crawl around inside it, making it ache and hurt in just the right way. No one else could do that to Fandom. No one.

Oh, Fandom had walked on the wild side before. It had dabbled in AUs, done the circle jerk thing. Gotten high on reviews, and wanked with the best in BNFs. But Meta. Meta knew Fandom, knew what it needed even if sometimes it seemed that Meta despised Fandom for it. Meta, with its tweed suits and glasses that caught the sun and never let Fandom see beyond that opaqueness. Meta with its sweet smile and sweeter words that only edged into darkness when you looked closely enough, listened hard enough and for long enough. Stare at Meta for a while and that smile would start to look like a sneer. Watch Meta long enough and you started to notice other things too, like the way that long, lean lines of muscle lay underneath that tweed, moving smoothly when Meta pulled one of those sudden switch in topics that it specialised in, or the fact that, for all that Meta's nails were manicured neatly, Meta's fingers were broad and strong and not all of those calluses had come from typing.

Fandom had felt those fingers before, twisting away inside it, pushing and stroking and loosening, until Fandom didn't know where it ended and fanon began. But Meta had a way of making that seem okay when it had Fandom at its mercy. Meta had a way of making everything seem okay when it touched Fandom just right.

When Meta did that, Fandom was just Meta's bitch. And Meta knew it.

"Get undressed."

Meta's voice was calm, as it always was when they started to do this. When Fandom glanced in Meta's direction, it was met with Meta's usual gentle smile. There was no mistaking the steel that laid underneath, though, and Fandom swallowed again, knowing that Meta had something in mind and there would be no talking it out of it.

Fandom's fingers fumbled, stripping itself of the canon that robed it, not stopping until it was stripped down to its bare synopsis.

Meta eyed it dispassionately, no excitement visible in Meta's expression, which was all calm reason even though Fandom knew that underneath, Meta was often anything but.

"Bend over the table."

Still sweet, still reasonable but Fandom was shaking now, fear and need coursing through it.

"I said," and there it was, that velvet-cloaked steel and Fandom buckled, already leaning forward even as Meta continued, "bend over."

Fandom expected the first slap, and had already braced itself for it, but the second came as a surprise and hurt the more for it. It moaned, clutching at the wooden table and feeling splinter-groups already beginning to curl under its nails.

"Such a pretty little fandom," Meta continued, its fingers now stroking lightly over the curve of Fandom's ass, broadened by Doritos and sweeter for it. "So new, so shiny. So needy." Meta's nails dug in harder, scratching over Fandom's reddened skin and Fandom moaned, bucking up into the touch. "So desperate for just one good porn fic."

Meta leant closer to mouth those last few words in Fandom's ear, and Fandom shivered, swallowing down another moan, knowing that now was not the time to protest, not when Meta was perfectly capable of locking everything down and leaving Fandom with no option but to wank itself dry.

"You're so predictable, Fandom. All about the shiny. All about the porn." Meta's fingers were moving lower now, while its voice had taken on a reflective tone. It was deceptive but Fandom knew better by now. Knew that something was coming. "You're better than that, Fandom, or you would be if you would just try. But you won't, will you?"

Meta's fingers were lower now, sliding between Fandom's legs, stroking lightly over Fandom's anus. Fandom couldn't help it, sliding its legs further apart even though it knew that that would only make it easier for Meta.

"I know you, Fandom. I know you're capable of so much more. There's so much inside you..." Meta's fingers pushed, breaching Fandom's ass and it hurt, no lube easing the way as Meta pushed its way deeper into Fandom, curling its digits in a way that threatened to make Fandom fall apart. "I know it's there, and I'm the only one who can tease it out."

Tease was right, as Meta's fingers stroked lightly over that place inside Fandom that made everything super-shiny!, although that was one dark secret that Fandom would never admit to Meta. Fandom was too afraid that Meta would - not mock him for it, because Meta never mocked, but make Meta stop, and that was infinitely worse.

Fandom didn't want it to stop, didn't ever want it to stop. Fandom wanted Meta to push deeper, to push harder and uncover all those things inside Fandom that Meta thought were there. Fandom wanted Meta to crawl inside it and take it apart, word by word until everything but Meta had been flayed from it.

All too soon, Meta's fingers were being pulled from Fandom, leaving Fandom aching and wanting more. "So needy," Meta whispered again, body hot against Fandom's and the tweed brushing over Fandom's skin in a way that left it twitching and gasping. "Just a little more, Fandom, and then I'll make everything feel so good."

Meta's fingers were in its face and Fandom's nose wrinkled. Surely, Meta couldn't expect Fandom to suck on those, not after where they'd been. Sure, Fandom had had its youthful indiscretions - the Mary Sues, the badly written contortionist porn - but they were all in the past. Fandom was older and wiser now, and this was just unsanitary, no matter how much Fandom wanted to reach maximum coverage.

Meta sighed in exasperation. "Squeamish now, Fandom? With your track record? Don't think I don't know about the underage, bestiality RPS fic you have hidden behind friendslock." There was a hint of dark impatience in its voice and Fandom shivered again, knowing that Meta could be too easily diverted and was just as likely to close the thread down as continue to give Fandom what Fandom craved. When Fandom glanced up, Meta's eyes were still hidden behind its glasses - and Fandom had no idea what colour Meta's eyes were but Cerulean seemed apt somehow - but Meta's skin was crinkled along its brow, just enough to let Fandom know that Meta was far from pleased.

Fandom stared up beseechingly, trying hard not to wriggle its ass impatiently, because Meta had no time for obvious stunts like that. Something must have worked, because Meta's hands left Fandom's body and worked quickly and neatly to unfasten Meta's pants.

Meta might take some time to get to the crux, but it was frequently devastating when it did so, and Fandom could only wriggle a little in appreciation - Meta's low tolerance for that be damned - when Meta's cock was finally free of its tweed prison and hung, turgid and thick with ideas and the words that surrounded them, in Fandom's face.

Fandom swallowed down, feeling itself choking a little as Meta's bitter taste coated its tongue and the heaviness of Meta's prose banged against the back of Fandom's throat. Fandom made it as wet as possible, feeling the excitement build up inside and knowing that once it reached this point, Meta wasn't going to waste any time in giving it to Fandom good.

It was better than waiting for news of renewal - that same heady, nervous feeling, curdling in the pit of your stomach, knowing that, potentially, you were about to get well and truly fucked.

Fandom had loved and lost many, many times over but Meta - Meta had never let Fandom down yet.

All too soon, Meta was pulling out, Fandom's spit making its cock glisten in the low light. Fandom felt itself tense all over, knowing what was coming and longing for and dreading it in equal measure. Meta didn't waste any more time, broad fingers pulling the cheeks of Fandom's Doritos' enhanced ass apart. For long seconds, Fandom hung there, gripping the edge of the table and praying to the Gods of Canon that Meta would go easier this time. Or that Meta wouldn't and would give Fandom the reaming that Fandom longed for.

Once again, Meta didn't disappoint. Fandom heard Meta clear its throat - or so Fandom thought - and swallowed down the little sigh of disappointment that this time Meta would draw things out with dry little asides and footnotes until even Fandom lost interest. But then Meta spat, and Fandom could feel the wetness slide down its ass, spread a little by Meta's thumb before being pushed deep into Fandom by Meta's fingers.

It was the only lubrication that Meta seemed to feel Fandom needed - and Fandom could read so much into that if Fandom had been inclined (and Fandom had spent too much time with Meta) but all Fandom was inclined to do was hold on while Meta ploughed into it.

It hurt - it always hurt when Meta first slid deeply home, splitting Fandom apart - but Fandom braced itself, holding on for dear Canon as Meta caught hold of Fandom's hips and thrust, probing Fandom deeply.

"This is what you need," Meta gasped against Fandom's neck, pulling Fandom back, hard, against it. And yes, this was what Fandom needed - Meta to turn it inside out, until it didn't know what was up or what was down, just the hard parry and thrust of Meta plumbing its depths. "This is what you crave. Isn't it?"

Meta thrust deeper this time, holding its position until Fandom was left with no choice but to moan that, yes, this was what it needed, what it craved, please, Meta, please.

"You like this, don't you?" Meta crooned. "Want it, crave it," because Meta was prone to repetition, but to Fandom, each time - each thrust, each deep, hard movement within it - felt like the first, all shiny and new. "Say it."

"Yes," gasped Fandom.

"Say you want it."

"I want it," Fandom sobbed, taken apart at the seams. "I want you to go deep, Meta."

"Tell me how it feels," Meta purred against the shell of Fandom's ear, rolling its hips so that each movement rubbed over that lovely spot deep in Fandom's body, setting its archives ablaze. "Is it too much for you, Fandom, dear? Too long? Too many hard words?"

"Oh," Fandom moaned. "Make them harder, Meta. Please."

"You gonna read it, hmm, Fandom? Going to take me deep inside you, filling you with new ideas?"

"Oh, oh, yes," gasped Fandom, clutching at the table, the only thing holding it upright. Meta's hand moved lower, stroking over the skin of Fandom's underbelly and making Fandom quiver in illicit excitement. "Give me what I need. Examine me. Turn me inside out. Make me... make me..."

"Make you what?" Still that low, guttural hum, rolling throughout Fandom's body as Meta's rhythm picked up, sending up sparks throughout Fandom. Meta's hand finally curled around Fandom's cock, forcing out another breathy moan. "Make you shiny and new? Hmmm? Or do you want me to discover hidden depths in your canon? Would you like that, Fandom?" Meta's breathing had speeded up so that its breath was rushing over Fandom's ear in hot, hurried gusts. Its hand speeded up too, driving Fandom into paroxysms of delight. "Want me to... layer you?"

"Oh!" It was too much, and Fandom's body convulsed, came apart at the seams. A myriad of different lists and forums burst forth, gushing over Meta's hand, still wrapped around Fandom's cock and milking every last idea from it.

"Oh, that's good, baby," Meta breathed in Fandom's ear. "Such a good little fandom, so many things to explore. And I'm going to explore them, over and over again until you can't take it anymore, until you are sticky and sore and begging me to stop. Would you like that, baby?"

Meta had such a way with words and although Fandom had heard them all before and would undoubtedly hear them again, it still sent a shiver through it, aftershocks coursing through it as Meta continued to milk Fandom to the point of near-pain.

Fandom groaned, pushing back into Meta's thrusts, its ass aching, spread wide by the weight of Meta's arguments. It felt exposed, more vulnerable than it had ever been and would be until the next time that Meta decided to pin it down and split it open.

"Such a good. Little. Fandom," Meta gasped, fingers digging into Fandom's flesh. "I'm... reaching... the crux... of my argument."

Fandom knew what was expected of it. As soon as Meta pulled out, Fandom was sitting at its feet, mouth open, waiting for the slippery spray of words that landed across its face and ran down its neck and chest. They tasted good - both bitter and strangely sweet - but then Meta's words always did, even with Fandom’s ass still slippery and sore. Fandom closed its eyes and savoured the taste, feeling Meta's last gasps sliding down its throat.

"Such a good little Fandom," Meta crooned again, fingers stroking through Fandom's dishevelled hair. Fandom closed its eyes and leant into the touch, savouring the ache in its ass and the sting in its flesh from the marks that Meta had left in its fury.

Afterwards, when Meta had gone in a flurry of cross references and leaving no promises to call in its wake, Fandom would trace those marks and know that its view of canon had been forever altered – again – and take comfort in that.

Fandom might need Meta and Meta might despise him for it, but without Fandom, all Meta would be left with to slake its lust were too long; didn't read academic essays on the symbolism of Russian literature. Fandom might be slight and shiny, but Fandom was fun. And had an ass to die for.

Meta would be back. Meta always came back.