evan myers: oh my god i was possessed and it forced me to kill my girlfriend and eat my baby i can’t keep fucking living like this i want to die someone make the pain stop please
Tags: Very mildly NSFW, oral fixation, Mentions of public masturbation, Evan wants that cookie BAD.
⭑ Okay so. This is really short, kinda bad, and ends REALLY abruptly but I wanted to post at least something. Random waves of inspiration are the only thing keeping me going. More Evan is to be had but (probably) NOT before I finish my current Habit WIP.
Evan has a major oral fixation.
He chews on the caps of pens and the erasers of pencils. Plastic straws, ice chips, maybe the lip of a styrofoam cup stolen from Vinny’s house. Even his fingers are subjected to being gnawed on when nothing else is available.
It's really a mindless habit. Something he doesn't even notice he does until you point it out.
And when you do, Evan feels like it gets 10 times worse.
He’s not sure if it’s because the behaviour is now conscious, or if it’s because the fixation shifts entirely onto you.
Not like it wasn’t before, don’t get him wrong. Every time you’re sitting across from him, or really in any spot where he can stare at your lips, he starts absentmindedly chewing on his own. To mirror you, or maybe to try and guess the taste of your chapstick. How the balm would smear against his own lips.
But now, it’s borderline uncontrollable.
To make things worse, Evan thinks you know.
Because, when have you ever been one to chew on pen caps or popsicle sticks? That’s his thing. You do it with your chapstick, too. You apply it way more often now, always in a heavier coat and pop your lips together afterwards.
Evan tries not to think about how many flavours you have, and how he’d let you use him as a taste tester for all of them.
A little while ago—Evan can’t even remember, that’s how distracted he was—You walked out of a vintage candy store with a huge pack of pixy stix. Enough to feed a family of seven, he’s pretty sure Vinny said, if they all don’t drop dead before that.
You smiled, and tore into the packaging with no hesitation.
Evan will never, and he means never ever forget how you ripped open the little sugar stick with your teeth. Some of it spilt out onto your bottom lip only to be immediately licked up, and after your seventh stick of the night, you stuck out your blue-stained tongue to Evan. Afterwards, he had to rub one out in Vinny’s car. His cum is still smeared into the back of the driver’s seat. That’s something he’s decided to take to the grave.
Evan’s also always been a touchy-feely person. Respectfully, of course, regardless of the person. Except when with you, which he thinks about when lying in bed.
A few days ago, everyone went down to the lake. It was a last-minute decision kind of thing as summer was about to come to a close. You were sitting next to him on the least-broken picnic table, pushed into Evan’s side and cheek smushed into his shoulder. He vividly remembers the smell of your lake-water seeped hair, and your pretty smile before you bit him.
Not hard. Just on his shoulder, but it was a first. He yelped and playfully pushed you away, only to keep you from seeing (or feeling) the near immediate hard-on he got.
Getting hard over the memory of biting one of your best friends isn’t exactly awe-inspiring. The next day, Evan had trouble meeting your eyes, but definitely not your lips. Not the way you kept darting your tongue out to re-wet them. Forgot your chapstick, you said. Evan knew that was a lie, considering you had five in your bag at all times.
Maybe Evan’s just a pervert. He sure feels that way now, thinking about biting along your chest or licking up against your neck. Sucking hickeys into your thighs, forcing your fingers down his throat as you grind against him—
“Evan? Hello?” You say, and Evan blinks back.
Jesus, right. You’re just trying to play Left 4 Dead 2, and here he is, trying not to get another boner. “Right—Yeah, what’s up?” Evan runs a hand through his hair, if only to try and snap himself out of whatever he’s got going on.
You snicker, “Your controller’s dead.” You hurl the piece of black plastic at him, landing with a thump on his thigh.
“Right. I’ll go get some batteries.”
It takes Evan a little over six minutes to return. When you ask, because of course you do, he says he had to look around for them. Something about no one puts the batteries in the right place, and how Alex is probably to blame.
Not that he had to go fuck his hand in the bathroom, imagining that it was yours instead.
Yeah. Evan’s really not sure how much more of this he can take.
areudirty
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
ellievsbear
dailybridgerton
pixelskylines
yousharknotpass
origamiaround
