#wnttak

That boy’s

dressed like a

⤹ ୨୧ ‧₊ kevin is so mean!

tw: smut, dead animal (literally), reader is a people pleaser (??)

on the rare occasions kevin decides to take you to his house after school, you know it’s because he wants to experiment on you. push your buttons to see when you would crack and finally reveal your true colors.

kevin doesn’t know why you’re sticking around with him. you’re everything which shouldn’t be in a five mile radius of him. you’re sweet, lovely, adorable. you’re a perfect little doll.

he thinks it’s all a facade, a very long and drawn-out pretending game you’re playing with him and everyone else. he thinks you’re fake.

so he obsesses on finding out why you’re this way.

you disappeared upstairs into kevin’s room with kevin keeping a firm grip on your wrist as if he was herding a very bratty child. you couldn’t even wave to his mom.

when in his room, kevin closed the door with a soft click. “why did you drag me all the way up here?” you complained, sitting down on the edge of his bed. kevin shrugged, sitting down beside you, “wanted to show you something.”.

he bent down and reached under his bed, his t-shirt riding further up his waist and pulled out a shoebox, your eyes widened a little as you saw it. “it’s a gift. for you.” kevin slurred, smirking a little in anticipation of your reaction.

before you could react, he opened it and revealed a dead dove which he hunted earlier this morning, the arrow still lodged in it’s chest. glassy, hazy eyes stared up at you. the blood of the animal had seeped into the cardboard of the box and was staining his fingers.

you covered your eyes with your hands, looking away. “ewww! get it away!” you whined, kevin laughed sadistically and picked the bird up by the wing and dangled it infront of your face, “you don’t like my gift, huuuhh? you’re so rude.” he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look at the dove.

you winced in pain, tears pricking at your eyes. “noo..” you mumbled, kevin gripped your hair harder, enough to actually hurt but not enough to rip your hair strands out. “you’re such a bitch. i killed this bird just for you, it reminded me of you, y’know?” he paused, absently plucking a bloodstained feather off the deceased animal. “all pure, untouched, innocent..” his voice dropped to a whisper, “i just couldn’t resist.”

he dropped it on your lap and you shrieked in horror, kevin reveled in your screams, a sick part of him enjoyed it. you kicked the animal off and it dropped with a sickening thud on kevin’s floor. “you’re being so dramatic. it’s just a dead bird.” he scoffed, picking it up and putting it back in the box to throw away later.

“kevin that’s—” you began but kevin cut you off, “what? sick? insane? should i be put in a psych ward or publicly executed?” he rolled his eyes, “you sound like my mom right now. always complaining about this or that. like she can never be truly satisfied.” kevin turned to face you then, “are you like that?” he leaned in close until his nose basically brushed yours.

your breath hitched in your throat, you tried saying something but nothing came. kevin smirked and pulled away, “of course not.” he cupped your cheek, smooshing your lips together to form a pout. “you’re too sweet.” he slurred, “don’t you get tired of being a little goody-two-shoes?” his voice dropped to an accusing octave, “or is that just not a word in your vocabulary? do you exist just to please people?” he tilted your head, his nails dug into the flesh of your cheeks, sure to leave crescent-shaped marks. “you’re pathetic.” he spat, his hand dropping to wrap around your throat.

he felt your throat bob under his palm, “i’m not..” you whimpered, kevin almost felt an ounce of pity for you. but it was soon replaced with disgust as he felt your hips canting down against his knee, searching for friction, pressure.

were you really enjoying this?

“look at you.” kevin laughed mockingly, he forced his thigh between your legs and pushed up under your skirt and flush against your clothed sex, “humping me like a sick little whore. you’re seriously getting off on me choking you?” his grip around your throat tightened, earning a whorish moan from your side.

you gasped half in shock and half for air, you ground down on kevin’s thigh, your cunt dripped through the flimsy lace of your panties and soaked into the denim of his jeans. kevin gripped your hip with his free hand, and pushed you down harder.

“if you just wanted to rub your pussy on me you should’ve just said that. you didn’t need to pretend to be my friend for this.” kevin’s hand slipped from your waist to push your little top up, reaching behind to unclip your bra and letting it fall.

his eyes fixed on your bouncing tits with as much interest he regarded to his history homework. he cupped one mound, feeling it fill out his palm as he fondled it, thumb brushing over the perky nipple.

he could hear you whine and beg desperately, “k-kevin..” you choked out. “shut up.” he hissed, beginning to bounce his leg as if to hasten your release. his hand continued squeezing your boobs, now switching onto the other one to pay similar attention to it.

he could feel how your breathing became shallower and quicker, your throat tightening in his grip. “you’re g’na cum already?” his hand left your throat to slip under your skirt, thumbing at your throbbing clit. “you didn’t even last long. you’re so desperate it’s pitiful.”

that was enough to tip you over the edge, and it seems kevin sensed it earlier than you did. he pushed you off his lap and onto the bed, you snapped out of your haze and gasped “why did you do that!” you sat up, pouting.

kevin crawled over you, straddling your hips and slotting his thigh between your legs once more. “again.” he pinned both of your wrists to the bed, “you’re not cumming until i say so.”

a/n: felt like the biggest pervert ever writing this

© 2026 @gravelocked — you can’t be me

Kevin is taking over my soul. Ash if you’re seeing this please don’t skin me 😓 also this is probably extremely ooc I tried tho okay

You sat on the edge of Kevin’s slightly stiff mattress, fingers fidgeting in your lap. He was at his desk, doing whatever on his laptop and practically ignoring you. You loved your boyfriend, of course, but he was definitely still… intense, to put it lightly. Not only did he get annoyed easily, but he was mean about it, too. But you didn’t mind much, you loved him the way he was.

“Quit your fucking around with your hands.”

You blinked before realizing what he meant, stopping immediately.

“Right. Sorry.”

He rolled his eyes and went back to what he was doing. He could sense the way you were bored with doing nothing but watching him. He couldn’t blame you, though; he was doing nothing anyway. He sighed and leaned back in his seat, stretching his arms above his head. He looked at you, then he reached out and gestured for you to come to him.

“Huh?”

“You’re bored. Come here.”

You nodded and did as he said. His arm wrapped around your waist, a stiff and firm hold. He knew you were surprised; he was never this soft. It’s not like he was getting all cuddly, though, absolutely not. He was just trying to get you to stop moving around.

You were looking down at him, eyes widened as he had already gone back to his laptop. You don’t know where to set your hands, you didn’t know where to look, and you certainly didn’t know what to think. So, you let your hands fall to your sides, your eyes rest on his face, and tried to not be so surprised. To do so, you let your eyes trace his features. His eyes, nose, jawline, cheekbones — all of it.

He tilted his head and glanced up at you for a split second, then he looked back at his laptop. He knew you were staring at him, but he wasn’t as bothered by it as he would be if it were anyone else. His hand didn’t do any of those sappy things you see in romance movies like his thumb stroking your waist, or his grip on you tightening. Of course not. His arm just rested there stiffly, keeping you close.

You were brought out of your trance of looking at his face when his laptop shut. He stood but he didn’t stretch, and his arm slipped from around your waist. You watched as he laid on his bed before you went to join him. You sat down and hesitated on whether or not you should lay down too before the decision was made for you, and you were pulled into his chest. It wasn’t an act of warmth, but rather one of impatience.

“You think too much.”

His voice was dry and slightly annoyed, even as he draped an arm over your back. He was still stiff; would it kill him to loosen up? He didn’t say anything further, but he kept you still. He didn’t bothering asking if you were comfortable, he’d assumed you’d done it yourself. Eventually he got bored enough to mess with the ends of your hair.

For someone who didn’t like physical touch, he sure seemed to like keeping you close.

A/N: I really really don’t like this and this is rushed and kinda embarrassing to post but wtv

You can’t go too fast or too slow, you have to match his pace at all times. If you’re too fast he’ll kick you in the shins to slow you down or pull your hair to stop you in your tracks, if you’re too slow he’ll grab you by your arm and force you ahead with an aggressive shove or worse leave you behind never looking back like you’re trash.

He hates that stupid fake small talk people make so don’t even think about saying anything to break the silence he revels in to make you uncomfortable unless it’s something worth saying which to him rarely is.

Holding hands is of course off limits, touching you means killing the awkward tension which is no fun. You can try all you want but all you’ll get in return is a hard swat or a nice old push right into the grass, a push is still a touch so it isn’t all bad. Maybe if he’s in a sweeter mood you can hold onto his clothing like some sad dog, it makes him feel good seeing you so desperate for connection you’re willing to settle for something so low.

Also, always be on guard. If you let yourself relax you’ll be rudely awakened by him tripping you and landing right on your face or stepping on a shoelace so your shoes become undone, all part of his silly games.

cw: thighjob, blackmailing, threats of anal & vaginal sex, dub-con(ish)

Khatchadourian, A name you have grown familiar with. Vague sure, but known nonetheless. You hear it when the teacher takes attendance, always pronouncing it a syllable off, or having to hear Lenny say it in that drawn out way, like a dog yipping for its master. You keep to yourself, you’re not bold enough to approach Kevin. You find it easier to avoid him, to keep to yourself—though…you can’t help but wonder. Does he actually like hotdogs? Or is that dumbass shirt he wears just meant to be ironic? Is his actual best friend Lenny? Or is the fake laugh actually genuine? You feel silly about the crush, can it even be classified as a crush? More like a mere curiosity.

You look up from your notebook. Kevins shirt accentuates the thinness of his waist, you can tell he hasn’t been in for a haircut as dark locks sweep over his nape. You can picture yourself running your fingers through it, it’s an innocent thought, but it makes you feel like a creep nonetheless, fantasizing about your classmate like that…. It’s like he knows about you’re weird fascination. When you pass him in the hall he always tilts his head a little, looks at you with those dark eyes like he can see right through you. Gives you chills. You’re brought out of your thoughts when your teacher says your name, followed by Kevin, who glances at you over his shoulder. Partner projects…what a joke, Kevin looks unimpressed. After class you get a note shoved onto your desk, average scrawl on a uneven piece of notebook paper with his address and four pm underlined. Chivalry is so dead.

His mother is kind when she allows you in, her nervous demeanor does little to put you at ease. Kevin pops in, his mother gives you a tight lipped smile as he yanks you up the stairs, like a lamb to the slaughter. His room is clean, like sterile clean. Ironed sheets and not a speck of dust. “Nice room.” You murmur, glancing at the shut laptop on his desk, CD’s neatly stacked next to it, you’re almost wishing for porn, at least that’d be something normal about him. He scoffs, almost like a snort, like you’re beneath him for paying a simple compliment. “What?” You ask, blurting it out without thinking. You just want to know what his problem is. “Nice room? It’s not nice, god, are you ever not a little culture following idiot?” Kevin asks like he’s being genuine, and if he is being genuine, you’re unsure. “Can you just take the compliment?” Your voice feels dry, sticking up to him feels like the wrong choice, like going left when a big sign is pointing right. “Tch.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, rolling his eyes while you awkwardly fiddle with the strap of your bag.

“Let’s just get this over with…” You huff, a sudden backbone forming the longer you’re around him, this stupid skinny guy with high cheekbones is so not scary. You set your bag down, pulling your notebook out, as it slides out the coil wire snags his used water bottle out, distinguished by the k.k initialed with sharpie on top of the plastic cap. He snatches it off his floor before you can shove it back in your bag, so much for having a backbone. “I can explain!” You offer in a rushed breath, what else are you supposed to say in a time like this? You weren’t even gonna do anything perverted with it, swear, but Kevin looks intrigued. “Explain what? That you’re a dirty little kleptomaniac?” His accusation is heavy, especially over a stupid water bottle. “Im not a—

“Oh really? Cause I think some other stuff of mine had gone missing, toothbrush, socks, hairbrush too now that I think of it.” Kevin keeps the bottle, crinkling the plastic.

“I never took that stuff! You’re…you’re lying!” You’re panicked now, taking a step forward, but so does he, he’s more intimidating up close, with those low set brows and dark fringe. “Yeah? Well who’s everyone gonna believe, me? Or the freak stalker?” He hums, almost close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your mouth. You gape, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, this can’t be happening right now. “I won’t tell…if you do something for me.” Kevin sounds earnest, you peer at him sullenly, hoping he’ll just make you do all the project, which’ll be annoying, but way better then being ostracized.

This is way worse than being ostracized. Kevin lays out the groundwork, it all feels very dreamlike as he shoves you into his bed, it feels wrong creasing his blankets, you look up at the ceiling as he undoes your jeans, not bothering to fully yank them off, just pulling them till they’re around your knees. “Stop it with the kicked puppy look, you were asking for this, if you hadn’t been such a depraved girl, you wouldn’t be in this situation you know.” Kevin is firm with his tone as he shoves his jeans down, fisting his half hard cock through the slit of his boxers. You steal a look, its well proportioned to the rest of his body, seven inches if you had to guess, shaved, full set of balls and a tip with a rosy hue, not half bad. You cannot seriously be checking his cock out, asshole isn’t even fully hard. He leans over to the side, squirting some lotion into his palm, rubbing it into his hand, then onto the inside of your thighs, if you close your eyes you can pretend its some creepy massage. The pressure of his fingers feels good, massaging the your skin evenly, it’d almost be sweet if you didn’t know what was coming.

“Seriously, you should be thanking me, I could just shove my dick up your ass, that’d probably feel better, i’m barely even touching you, seriously, say thank you.” Kevin situates your thighs, shoving them up with your sneakers still on, the soles facing his ceiling. You watch as that rosy tip parts through your smushed thighs, feel his underwear against the back of your thighs as he ‘bottoms out’, his cock menacingly pointing directly at you like some deranged compass. “Thank you Kevin.” You croak, a drop if pre drips directly onto your shirt, gross. “Thank you for what?” He hums, already out of breath as he begins a steady pace of pulling and pushing his cock between the fatty space of your inner thigh. “Thanks for not sodomizing me!” Kevin pinches your thigh with his nail, dramatic is what you are.

“Sodomy? I should just take it back, do it anyways, fuck your cunt after.” Kevin grunts, like he’s not already fucking you, his bed frame creaks, and his thrusts jolt your body, worst of all, it’s making you wet. The dirty slick noise of his cock gliding in and out between your legs, the sight of it alone, how could you not picture his cock inside you. “No!” You whine like the thought isn’t crossing your mind, he clicks his tongue because he’s disappointed. “Hold ‘em.” Kevin demands, forcing you to grasp your thighs, make you put yourself on display for his own sick gratification. He pulls your panties to the side, which makes your whole body go hot, he’s looking with such determination, jerking himself off at the sight of your wet cunt. He makes a pained noise, like lowering himself to this human need isn’t a thing he does often, it can’t be. Spurts of nut shoot onto your squished folds, you feel it, the thickness and the heat. Kevin gives himself a languid tug, milking his sensitive cock to really glaze your cunt with the entirety of his orgasm. You gasp at the sight, this cannot be real, a shiver goes through your body, you’re ruined and you haven’t even been fucked. Kevin pinches the gusset of your panties, setting them back into place, his fingers light as a feather as he smooths it over your folds, feeling the throb of your neglected pussy under his fingers.

He turns his back to you, you quickly sit up, pulling your pants back up. You’re hair is flat and frizzy in the back, no doubt from getting jostled back and forth on his bed, your body hot. Your jeans sticking to your thighs from the lotion. Kevin’s cum smushed into your pussy when you sit up. When he turns around his cock is tucked back into his boxers, jeans back up around his waist. “I’ll finish the project, we’ll get an A-.” He murmurs almost reassuringly, you nod wordlessly, picking your bag up from off the door, he doesn’t even walk you out, you just walk past him. Despite the sudden animosity you’re oddly sure this won’t be the last you hear from him.

✚ — pairings: kevin khatchadourian x reader

✚ — cw: dark con! divorce, depression, dead animals, harassment, bullying, sexual coercion, isolation, use of nicknames like “whore”

✚ — a/n: read pt1 here. fuck i need to work on my actual fanfics

✚ — wc: 1.1k

mlist

Friend! Kevin, who is becoming the only one who notices. Small details that your friends overlook. You come into English looking exhausted, and he casually says, “You didn’t sleep,” based on your slumped shoulders and the fact that you've rubbed your eyes at least 9 times during class. He wonders what it could have been. Surely not the project on Macbeth, as you were close to finishing the presentation. How understood he could make you feel, all while you’d have to greet your friends first before they could even acknowledge you.

Friend! Kevin, who rushes to work with you when the teacher asks you to get into pairs. When another one of your friends points out that they were going to work with you, he simply grins, “You weren’t fast enough.” It plays like a joke, and you reluctantly laugh along with everyone else.

Friend! Kevin, who’s started to hang out at lunch and walk you to class. No longer having to worry about mentally chasing your friends just to understand what they were gossiping or joking about, you feel almost delighted! Maybe things are better with one person than a large group of people, you muse.

Friend! Kevin, who silently praises you when you casually slip that you had cancelled plans with your other friends during lunch. He quickly changes the subject before you have time to think about what he meant.

Best friend! Kevin, who starts using the same humor and sarcasm as you a few weeks later. Oh, how happy you are! He’s finally opening up! And you were right, after all. He understands you, and you truly do have a few things in common! Your humor, music, and sleep schedule… He even seemed to have a fondness for bunnies, just as you did. Sure, he’d unnerve you at times, but that was probably nothing, just as him randomly listening to the same music as you weeks later.

Best friend! Kevin, who pats your shoulder and comforts you once you break down crying one day after school, after you had confided how hard things have been both at home and school. Your parents are divorcing, and your friends dropped you! All you have is Kevin left, and oh, how sweet he was. You knew you didn’t make a mistake in befriending him.

Best friend! Kevin, who takes his jokes a little too far. Should you call him out on it? You don’t know. You’re worried he’ll stop hanging out with you, and you don’t exactly have anyone left. But what are you supposed to do after the stunt he had pulled during break yesterday? Maybe you shouldn’t have airily told him about one of your ex-friends’ fears of heights, had you known he’d end up leaving her backpack on the school roof. How he got up there was a mystery to you, but you were more focused on her genuine panic attack trying to get it down. But true friends call each other out, right? So of course you tentatively mentioned it while walking to class with him, only for him to laugh, “I thought exposure therapy was supposed to work.”

Best friend! Kevin, who invites you over after you miss the bus, and it starts to rain hard. You felt a twinge of pity towards his little sister, Celia, when he shoved her off of him with an insult upon arrival. His mom greeted you with a distant smile, and you followed him upstairs and into the emptiness of his neat, bare-bones room. You sat on his tiny bed and stared out the window while he quietly repaired an old radio on his desk. Was he always this quiet, or did you not know him as well as you believed? The sound of thunder from outside shook the window, causing you to jolt. You don’t have time to reflect on his artificial personality before he hovers over you, pulling the curtains together.

Best friend! Kevin, who’s truly found it all now. After inviting you over for the fourth time in the same week, he takes the chance to flip through the notebook you abandoned on his bed once you ran off to the bathroom. He already knew what a pitiful person you were and the problems you had to deal with at home. But to think that you’d sleep with someone because you were too compelled to say no, and let people cheat off of you? What a whore you are, he thinks. How much you had objected, grabbing him by the collar. But oh, all Kevin needed to do was to threaten you a little, and you’d apologize with panic.

Best friend! Kevin, who’s become the default. The moment you get good news, he’s always messaged first. Not your parents or anyone else. But it was only because he was most familiar, or so you told yourself. He’s so mean sometimes, but also so intimate! How well he had known you, and your idiosyncrasies. Plus, you were pretty much stuck together now, whether you liked it or not, and you didn’t exactly want you sleeping with someone to get around, not that you believed Kevin would tell anyone. But you’d learn to live with it, you told yourself.

Best friend! Kevin, who could pick up your opened phone and look through it anytime, and you wouldn’t bat much of an eye. It starts with checking your notebook or phone, but now he has your passwords and a replica of your house keys. Your father hates his guts and complains about him starting to visit whenever he pleases, yet you defend him so much. It was only natural, though. Your father only chose to give a shit about you because of Kevin meddling in your life. He understands that your relationship runs deeper than your rocky one with your own parents.

Best friend! Kevin, who doesn’t correct your classmates when they tease you or assume you’re dating. “But you’re always together,” Other classmates would say. You’d only laugh and awkwardly wave the jokes off, all while Kevin would remain silent.

He knows you won't say no. You can’t exactly, and you feel as though you don’t really want to. Because he’s all you have, and he could easily make your life miserable. It happens on an average weekend after watching him shoot arrows into a flock of bluejays. Ten, you had counted. Ten, he had killed. Was this even legal? He sips on a root beer, and you stare down at the stiff corpses of the birds while sitting on his bedroom floor before he simply proposes to date. No romance or flowers, but presenting it like a practical decision. But he brings you warmth sometimes, and he understands you, even if he's a little difficult. You couldn’t deny Boyfriend! Kevin.