Mr. Eclectic: PerformativeMale!Tony Stonem x Fem!Reader
Pairing: Tony Stonem x Fem!Reader
Summary: He’s a performative male who drinks matcha, reads classic and feminist lit, sings, and loves classical music through wired earphones — and you’re the only one who sees through it, who knows it’s a well-played façade. So you try to prove people wrong.
Tags: Skins UK, Feminine reader, No use of Y/N, Second pov, Unestablished relationship, Modern AU (2024-25), Smut, Unsafe Sex, Marks, He’s a dickhead, Hate Sex, Dirty Talk, Verbal Abuse, Vaginal sex, Choking, Semi-public Sex, Height Difference, Orgasm Denial, Male Dom/Fem Sub dynamics, Doggy Style, Clothed Sex
A/N: 6ft and feminist btw…dealt with a northern brit boy like this, NEVER AGAIN, GENUINELY DO NOT FALL FOR IT cs i did 😢he was manipulative but he was hot #ruinedmylife
"Bet you think you're so poetic
Quoting epics and ancient prose
Truth be told, you're quite pathetic" - Laufey (Mr. Eclectic)
Tony Stonem was the epitome of evil. If the devil came up from hell, he would've worn his face. He hid it well, hiding behind his apparent fondness of classic literature and music, his cups of matcha lattes, his choir singing, and his attractive face he used to his very advantage. His entire being was just pretend, a character playing at what girls hoped for in a guy; he was respectful, a feminist, and a good listener. He was given an extra point because he was above 6ft. You saw through it, spoke to your friends how you had a bad feeling about him in your gut and just how fake it all was. Every time you did, they dismissed it as you just wanting to be different and that deep down you actually liked him.
Every time he walked past you, a waft of pure Dior Sauvage would assault your nostrils—he was just utterly obnoxious and another attempt to stand out in the crowd, although he wasn't any different. Sometimes he'd even turn to you to give you a small wave and a smirk, an attempt at trying to be friendly, but you'd just turn your head and keep walking. There was no need to interact with him.
His takes on feminism were typical: women suffered more than men, period products should be free, all the usual... Which was right. The only issue was the messenger, whom you did NOT believe was a feminist. You'd overheard him speaking to a girl outside of College a few days ago. Apparently all of his many ex-girlfriends were, “really fucking crazy bitches” and had broken up with him for "no reason."
Yeah, right. For no reason? He probably drove them crazy.
Your hatred of him grew from there, seeing him frequently in class attempting to be the devil's advocate in discussions, in the hallway, and sometimes even outside. You swore every time you walked past a cafe, he was there, reading his book, accompanied by a stupid matcha latte. It was like he was scouting cafes for women, switching spots when he's wrung the area dry of girls willing to fall for his bullshit.
Then Instagram recommended you his account, since all of your classmates and friends followed him, except for you. 300 followers, a public account. His whole page was just a Pinterest girl's wet dream. His singing performances for choir, his cafe escapades, outfit checks, and books he was reading. And lots of matcha. Matcha lattes, iced matcha coffees, matcha desserts. You were surprised he wasn’t turning fucking green at this point.
You and Tony didn't interact with each other much, not mutually anyway.
Until that day. The cafe was half-full like it usually was, thankfully. This was the spot you usually went to, one of the cafes that were quiet enough to study at. It was filled with the soft murmuring of old women going out with tea with their friends, and the occasional cackle from a group of friends studying together.
The scent of your hot cocoa, almost finished in front of you, smelt sweet and creamy. Your hand was cramping up from writing notes, and your handwriting was slowly developing into messy scribbles you knew only you would understand. With a weary sigh, you leaned back, surveying the cafe slowly, before bringing the cup to your lips.
Right on time, the bell of the front door chimed and your eyes dragged over whoever came in. It was the person that you wished wouldn't find this spot.
Tony. And here he was, wearing a navy blue collared shirt and beige slacks. He adjusted the messenger bag over his shoulder, long fingers holding onto a book you knew would be a pretentious one. The scent of his cologne completely ruined the space, the smell of coffee mingling with it to create an unpleasant concoction.
You averted your eyes away from him, but it wasn't enough, because his scent grew stronger, and in your peripheral, unfortunately HE was growing closer.
"Is anybody sitting here?"
"No, nobody's sitting there, it's fine."
You pretended not to notice he had come in and you gave a tight smile, offering the seat in front of you to him. But deep down, you wanted to retort that you wish somebody else was sitting there instead of him. He attempted to give you a smile, but it was just another one of his off-putting smirks that usually made girls smile as well.
"You studying for Psych?"
"What does it look like I'm doing?" You feigned a laugh, about to plug in your earphones and at least attempt to study, before he spoke again. You internally groaned, your head lifted and your eyes hesitantly met his. Shivers ran down your spine at the way he held your gaze. People with blue eyes seriously gave you the chills.
"Did I do something to you? Or...?" He raised an eyebrow, scratching the back of his neck at the hostility. In his point of view, you were just the girl that he passed by in the hallway, who usually ignored him. You intrigued him.
"Sweetheart, if you think I'm hitting on you, you're mistaken." He gave a small chuckle after his comment, and that's what you set off after months of having to hear about him. You weren't offended by his comment because you were grateful he had no interest in you.
"Get your head out of the clouds. I just happen to dislike you as easy as girls like you.”
His eyes widened before his lips curled into a grin, softly chuckling as he looked around briefly before answering. He leaned in close, close enough you could smell the lingering scent of cigarettes on him.
"How's that possible? We've never spoken to each other, ever." He whispered, emphasizing the last word. "Or are you just trying to be different from the rest of your friends so I can give you attention?" His eyes were fully locked on yours and you kept your stare in return. You could feel your blood boiling at just how he spoke as if he had power over you.
"Why do you act like a nice guy when you've got 6 ex-girlfriends who are apparently all crazy bitches?"
"Oh wow, you're obsessed with me, aren't you? You're listening to my conversations now?"
"I have higher standards. You’re pathetic.”
You gave him a nasty once-over, judgmental. Then you packed up your things, quickly stuffing your notes and laptop into your bag and he watched with the same smile as if he truly enjoyed messing with you.
"If I’m so pathetic, then why do girls fall for me?" He called out to you as you stood up, dashing towards the cafe door.
A few days had passed after that incident, and he had been non-stop glancing at you. You swore he had said something about you and it spread like a disease, since some girls were beginning to stare at you. Some glaring at you, which you were happy to ignore. During school, your friend had asked you. One question. "Hey, why did you talk to Tony like that at the cafe?" "Like what?" You asked, confused. "He's saying you apparently...attacked him?"
Woah. Attacked? Is he fucking for real?
He was in a secluded area in between the shelves, at the very back of the library. It took you forever to find him. He was in the middle of looking for a book. Angrily, you strode towards him in the library during lunch, grabbing onto his arm and wrenching him to face you.
"Tony, why the fuck are you spreading rumours about me? We're in Year 13, we're not in secondary anymore." You demanded, and he tugged away from you like you were a disease, his lip curled in a brief sneer before it melted into that smirk. "What rumours? Isn't it the truth?" He said confidently, looking at you in a way that had you feeling as if you were the crazy one.
"The truth? You're telling my friends that I "attacked" you. That did not fucking happen, okay?" You leaned closer to him, eyebrows furrowed all the way in frustration. He didn't budge from his spot, so you were close enough that your face could hit his chest.
“It wasn’t an exaggeration, you did quite attack me. Not physically, but verbally. I’m hurt actually.”
He feigned his supposed sadness with a pout, hand on his chest, to his heart. You stared like something was seriously wrong with him. He was treating you like a joke, as if you didn't also have a reputation at the College.
"That look suits you, princess. Always bitter and angry." His hand reached up to touch your face and you attempted to retaliate by swinging your hand to slap him across the face. It fell short since he held fast, gripping your wrist with his free hand.
Tight enough you could feel the blood flow in your arm slowing down. You attempted to tug your arm back, but he only pulled you against him. Against your will, he slowly backed you up towards the shelf beside you.
The smirk on his face had long disappeared when you tried to slap him, a calm that did slightly scare you. His eyes had shifted into a darker gaze, and it was as if the veil had been lifted. If he were to do anything to you, you couldn't do much, you weren't even able to pull away from him.
The space between your face and his was so small that you could hear your own heartbeat, the rush of blood in your ears. "That's not really nice though, is it?" His jaw ticked, teeth clenched. He didn't let you go, but his other hand crept up to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together and forcing lips to pout.
“Looking at me like that, say what you’d like to say to me now, then." His hand left your face, only to trail down to let his fingers rest around your throat. He gripped a little and your free hand snapped up to grab his wrist. Your pulse thrummed against his fingertips, and he felt his quicken at that look in your eyes, like he said was his fuel to his desire.
This was different, hate felt stronger, more powerful than just lust. The disdain was mutual, he hated just how you thought you could speak to him like that, and you hated him more than anything in the world.
"Fuck you, Tony. Fuck your shitty matcha lattes, your feminist books, your stupid mid-level philosophical and feminist ideas. I would’ve preferred it if you were an asshole straight up—y’know why I hate you? Because you pretend to be nice to get women to like you.”
"You want me to be meaner then?”
Tony closed the distance, ducking his head—a sudden movement that had you pressed up against the hard and uncomfortable and before you could tell him to piss off, his lips, slightly chapped crush against yours. It’s harsh, his lips pressing against yours insistently, and something inside you, with all the anger had boiled over. Your hand reached to grip the front of his jumper, attempting to pull him closer than he already was.
Once you returned the kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth—he pressed further, tilting his head to angle his mouth just right. His large hand gripped onto the back of your head, tugging on your hair. It elicited a moan out of you against his lips. He tasted faintly like matcha, slightly bitter and nutty. After a few seconds more of kissing, your breath had run short, so you pushed him firmly against his chest. He left your lips, but not after you tugged and nipped his lower lip in between your teeth.
You had bit down hard enough that he reached up with two fingers tracing his bottom lip. He looked down, seeing the mixture of blood and saliva on the tips of his fingers. He gave a soft scoff, before his hand wrapped around your throat again.
“Open.” He murmured lowly. He coaxed your lips to part as he pushed his bloody fingers into your mouth. The metallic taste of his own blood made you look at him in utter disgust, but you sucked them clean. His lips kept an arrogant smirk before withdrawing them. “Good girl.” He drawled out, although it wasn’t reassuring, it sent a shiver up your spine.
“Is it really gross if you like it?”
His arm wrapped tightly around your waist, he slipped a knee in between your thighs, parting them. You despised the fact he was taking charge. Cupping his face, you lowered his face to meet yours again in another clash of lips and clacking of teeth. He pulled away more quicker, only this time, his lips latched onto your neck, sucking red welts that turned into hickeys later. Your neck felt wet with his saliva, and the fact he was panting so hotly against your skin, it felt so dirty, but it felt fucking amazing.
His hands went under your shirt to maul your breasts, tugging down your bra far enough for them to spill out onto his palms. His groping was borderline painful, but was combatted by his cruel tugging and twisting at your poor nipples. Your body arched towards his hands, his body, a moan leaving your lips.
You feel the firmness of him in his trousers, warm, pressing right against your stomach. It stirred up the heat pooling low at your stomach, the ache in between your thighs growing more insistent for something, somebody. Your hips couldn’t help but cant against his thigh, the pressure chipping away at the hesitation you had.
At that, he let out a low sigh of delight at seeing you helping yourself, eyes closing briefly before his hands guided you by your hips. Faster, rougher against him.
There was no space between you, and you reached a hand down, latching and grabbing onto his cock you knew was fully hard from just making out. He lets out an agonized, tight sound just from how tight you were groping him, like you had the urge to break his fucking cock. It hurt, but it hurt real good, it had him grinding his teeth together.
He doesn’t grab you to stop your hand though, but allows you while one of his hands return to your breasts. His mouth is all over your neck, marking all of the spots that haven’t been.
It had your heart thrumming against his, beating against your ribcage as if it was prepared to jump out. Your entire body was hot, your cheeks warmed up enough due to the close proximity of your already warm bodies. It was enough to work up a small sweat out of both you.
Tony’s hands and mouth were firm, rough, prepared to use you as you were also using him—an outlet. For all that disdain you worked up for him. The encounter at the café. The rumours he spread. In only a matter of two weeks. He smelt of the cologne you hated so much, that being this close to him made you dizzy.
Your hands made quick work of his belt, before unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks. It’s not long until your spit-slicked hand is down his trousers and boxers, fishing his cock out. It felt heavy, a more tapered tip, on the longer side.
“This is the cock that girls go fucking crazy for, really?” You scoffed as you grabbed it, waggling it around. Tony gave small laugh, lifting his head from your neck. “Does it matter? You’re going to cum on it anyway.” His fingers were now playing under your skirt, pressing and rubbing against your panties without pre-amble.
His thumb found your clothed clit, pressing hard enough it made you moan loud enough that he clamped a hand over your mouth.
“Shh. Still in the library, yeah? I know nobody comes here, but it’s an open space...to anybody.” He reminded you, pulling his hand away.
“Stop acting so righteous when you’d fuck me in a room full of people if you could.”
“Sounds like a good idea, remind me next time.”
He shrugged, grinning at just how you read him so perfectly each time. His large hands redirected you, pushing your body to face the shelf as he settled behind you. His hand pushed your skirt to bunch up around your hips, fingers pushing your panties to the side.
Without any warning, he pushed his hips inward, a rough, quick stroke that him hilted all the way inside without any issue due to your mixed arousal. Your cunt was embarrassing you, it was needy, sucking him inside without any problem. A long groan, low and quiet left his lips, accompanied by your moans and grunts. His chest is pressed against your back, mouth at your ear. Your eyes widened, your walls already attempting to adjust to the new intrusion it faced.
You felt full, you could feel his hips already angled dangerously to press against that spot inside you that made you squirm. The thrust pushed you against the hard shelf, and his hand snaked around to grip your throat. Firmly, now threatening to choke you.
He didn’t start slow. His hips drew back, breath ghosting on your ear, before he set a pace that was punishing, and full of the mutual contempt. Your hands found purchase on the shelf, making the old wood creak with each thrust of his hips. In the small space, you could only hear the clink of his belt, the soft sounds of you connecting. Your gasps were against books, eyesight blurring at the pace and how deep he was reaching.
And every time his hips would flush against yours, he’d give an even deeper roll, making sure you were grounded on where you were, how he was fucking you. “Tony, oh—ffuck…” You gasped at just how fast he was going, his hips a blur as he slammed into you over and over again. It felt like absolutely ecstasy, but it also felt agonizing every time he slammed into your cervix; you weren’t sure where the pleasure began and the pain ended, because the lines were blurring into one. He was making sure you’d never forget this.
The sound of his name on your lips makes his panting grow harsher. His “Say it again. Say my name.” He didn’t slow his pace down, his voice low in your ear. But it wasn’t enough to convince you. You couldn’t help but disobey.
“Why would I fucking do what you want, Tony?”
“Fucking say it.” His hand around your neck tightened enough to draw quick breaths from you. You were trying to gasp for air, mouth open, you could feel your eyes blurring—head growing dizzy from the lack of air. But it felt euphoric, as fucked up as it sounded, being fucked while about to die from asphyxiation was pushing you more towards your orgasm.
“Ah, Tony…To—oh—Tony. That’s it, I’m going to cum…” You managed to pant out in between ragged breaths while he loosened his grip. Motivated by your moans, his pace is back to where it was before, jabbing, tip pressing right against that deep spot that made you clench tightly around his cock. And he could feel it. He could sense that you were about to cum. It was a warmth that you knew very well, a build-up in your core, the aching growing too much to bear. Like something ready to burst.
“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me? You’re gonna cum on my—mm…my cock? Fucking ask nicely then.” He emphasized the last four words with four harsh thrusts that ring out louder in the small space. Then the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, wet, and quite debauched. He swore he could feel your pussy sucking him in. It was filthy, making a squelching noise every time he slammed back inside.
Again, you found it hilarious to not listen. “Fuck you, Tony...I wouldn’t stoop that low—hmh…having to ask you.” You laughed and he abruptly lifted his hand from your neck to the back of your head. He pushed your head more forward, your cheek smushed against one of the hard shelves.
Then he stopped suddenly, withdrawing his cock out of you, your cunt clenched around nothing, wanting to draw him back inside. You let out a small gasp at the denial, and you could hear him panting behind you. You could feel him, his cock slotted between your ass as he slowly rutted. Playfully.
“Say it. Ask me. Beg me to. Or I pull away. And you get nothing.”
It didn’t take much for you to say.
“Fine. Fuck, fine. Can I cum, please?”
You managed to pant out, and he leaned closer. It wasn’t as needy as he wanted it to sound, so he gently prodded at your entrance, tip slightly breaching before pulling back. You let out a whine.
“I didn’t quite hear that, can you repeat it again, sweetheart?”
“Can…Can you let me cum? Please?...fucker.” You blurted out at the end—which resulted in him thrusting back inside you. You didn’t know whether to cry from pain or pleasure.
“Fucker? You’re calling me that? I’m doing *you *a favour. You should be lucky to be in this spot that many other girls would die to be in. ***Fuck*** ***you.” ***He grunted out, a manic look in his eyes you couldn’t see, but from his pace, you could tell it was just mass frustration he was feeling. And he was taking it out all on you. He didn’t care how loud you both were now, only cared about filling you up with his cum. How ironic it’d be, claiming you hated each other, but you walking away with a cum-stuffed hole. Cruelly, he rolled his hips again, earning a delighted gasp from your lips.
“If you cum though, It’ll be a fun story to tell.” He taunted, threatening to blackmail you, before his cold fingers begin to pinch and rub tight circles in your clit—that’s what set you off. At the same time, like a dam bursting, he could feel the warmth of your orgasm around his cock. You were practically gushing. It was blinding, waves of pleasure crashing over your body once you came around him. Your mouth was open in a silent scream, letting out a small whine, your body froze.
And him? He hadn’t stopped just yet, but with a couple more messy thrusts, he pulled out, quickly deciding where he wanted to cum. His hand flew to his cock, pumping furiously and gripping firmly as the spurts of cum landed on the back of your shirt. "Fuck, here you go, you disgusting slut." He softly groaned, tossing his head back as the last dredges of his cum dripped out of his softening cock. You gritted your teeth, knowing he was cumming on your back.
“Why’d you have to cum there, you fucking animal?” You murmured as he finally allowed you to lift your head, his grip on every part of your body loosening. He stepped back, tucking himself back into his trousers before looking at your debauched self, messy hair, stained shirt, attempting to smooth out your crumpled skirt.
He watched you turn around, facing him exactly with the same stare before you even fucked. Funny. He thought it’d change you. Apparently not. Not that much of a problem for him though.
“What? You wanted me to cum inside you?”He laughed at just the utter thought of it before he ducked his head to meet your still-indignant face.
“Cute.” Was all he said to your face, but he was met with silence and your glare. “Don’t look at me like that, Princess, I’ll cum inside you later, okay?” He gave a laugh before waving a hand. “I’m going for matcha, wanna come?”
Your legs were still shaking, unstable, and he was already striding away, expecting you to follow.
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