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ekkothroughtime · 2 months ago

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staring problem | ekko x reader

Word Count: 2,000 Notes: Not particularly sexual, but MDNI, AFAB!Reader. Body (boob?) worship, tight-fitting clothing (no sizes mentioned), fluff, couch cuddling, the briefest food mention of all time. Ekko might have an oral fixation. The prompt for this warmup was literally just Ekko loving on your boobs, do with that what you will. No description of breast size.

Looking back on it, you absolutely knew what would happen when you squeezed into this tiny little black top.

In your defense, though, you had only been curious if it would even fit, pleasantly surprised to find that the soft material was designed to stretch and hug your frame like a second skin.

And it was just so warm that you couldn't bring yourself to peel it back off, not when the first wisps of winter are already twisting through the air. Niping at your nose, frosting the ground, and squeezing through the cracks in your front door, desperate to terrorize you and your already cold feet.

If anything, it's Ekko's fault for bringing it to you.

Some little thing he found while sorting through the new batch of clothes collected for the Firelights. But for someone so intelligent, he sure looks shocked the moment he looks up and sees you standing in the middle of the base.

You're pretending that you notice the way his eyes go wide, feigning ignorance, as you hang these new decorative lights. Using a hoverboard would have made this easier, wouldn't have had to reach so far overhead, but there's an ulterior motive here. Shamelessly twisting your body. Blissfully unaware of the familiar gaze that drinks in your frame, like a man who has just found a glass of water in the desert.

"Please be careful," Ekko's gloved hand presses into your lower back, and you don't need to look to know that the other is in front of you. Ready to catch you the moment you slip.

But try as he might, he can't keep his attention focused on what you're doing. Distracted by something that isn't your diligent hands, securing the string of lights to the wall.

Even after you've finished with them, and Scar calls Ekko over to come look at the engine they're repairing, you can't help but feel as if you're being stared at.

It's one thing to feel the other Firelights looking you over. With so many newcomers these days, all with varying estimations of how long it's socially acceptable to stare at someone, it's bound to happen, but this is different. The script has flipped.

For once, it's Ekko staring at you.

He thinks he's being subtle about it. Looking over his shoulder every time you walk past, going out of his way to ask you questions that he definitely knows the answer to. He's up on the balcony, head swiveling to keep up with you as you walk around the tree. Just so happens to think there's an issue with his hoverboard, one that requires him to fly past you half a dozen times.

You've got a fairly good idea of what could possibly have him so distracted, but it's only confirmed later in the afternoon when you're all huddled around for a meeting. It's another one of Scar's debates about capacity issues, and this time, it sounds like they're actually making progress on it, but...oh, what the hell. You're not listening.

You can't.

Not when Ekko is sitting eight feet across from you, hands clasped in front of his face, staring dead at your chest without the slightest hint of awareness of what he's doing. As if one quick glance won't reveal that he's more focused on the shape of your breasts than the overwhelming topic of where to put everyone. No bra to alter their shape into something modest, and with the way this shirt hugs every single inch...

You cross your arms, letting the motion squish your boobs into a new position.

Ekko's eyes dart up to your face. Caught red-handed.

"Ekko, you got any ideas?" Scar tilts his head, briefly looking toward you, then back to Ekko. Seems he caught on to what was happening a long time ago.

For once in his life, Ekko doesn't have a single clever suggestion to offer. A crucial mistake that keeps him at the meeting long after it ends; the capacity issue won't solve itself, and ideas don't grow on trees.

You're settled into the patchwork couch when Ekko finally pushes through the door. Face paint smeared across his forehead, some of it mysteriously staining his cheek, as if he's wiped his head with his hand and then rested his face in it. One of these days, he'll figure out how to get the consistency right with these new materials, but until then...

"Did the kids get you with a paintbrush again?" You giggle, aimlessly reaching out for him despite how far away he is.

Every muscle in his body seems to relax at the very sight of you, tension melting away like metal under one of his blowtorches. "I smeared it all over my face again, didn't I?" His voice has already lost its usual confidence, resigned to something much quieter.

Any other day, you would chide him for walking out of his shoes, leaving them scattered across the floor to be tripped over later, but you don't think he even has the energy to carry them over to their designated place by the door. All lazy smiles and half-lidded eyes, collapsing into you the moment he's deemed himself close enough.

"And here I thought I would have an easy day," Ekko grumbles right into your collar, groggy voice vibrating through your bones.

"An easy day for the leader of the Firelights?" You tease, running your hand up the back of his neck, nails tracing against his skin. "Never."

His whine cuts through the air, long and drawn out, as if being reminded of his status is the worst thing he could possibly hear right now.

"I'm sorry," laughing, you press a kiss to his forehead, where you're certain you'll get the least amount of paint on your lips.

All he has the strength to do is groan again, tilting his head until he's fully buried his face into your chest. Maybe if he snuggles close enough, nobody will be able to come ask for another favor that he'll inevitably say yes to.

"I should have never given you this shirt," Ekko still isn't lifting his head. Content to stay here with his face smashed into nondescript fabric for the rest of his life.

"What, you don't think it looks good on me?" Feigning hurt.

"It looks gorgeous on you," it comes out a little too fast. Seems he's been sitting on that thought for a while now. "That's the problem."

"I can tell," you have to momentarily pause with that thought, preoccupied with sorting his hair back into place. "You spent half of the afternoon and the entirety of the meeting staring at my chest. I'm shocked Scar didn't call you out on it."

"Oh, he's never gonna let me live it down," Ekko's tired chuckle is the prettiest thing you've heard all day. You can only imagine what went on the moment you left.

But one can only lie next to one's favorite temptation for so long. It's only a matter of minutes before he begins to wander, using the tip of his nose as a guide, wandering across your chest until he brushes over the soft swell of your breast.

A vague, warm pressure greets you. There and gone in a matter of milliseconds, leaving behind a coolness that wasn't there before.

And he does it again, a little bit slower this time. Easier for you to catch. The swift dart of his tongue, wetting the material of your shirt, and maybe he's misplaced his concepts of shame because there's no trace of it to be found today. Content to mouth over your breast, no real end goal to be found. Doing it just for the hell of it.

"What could you possibly be doing?"

No answer.

You're making no move to stop him. It's comparable to a feather-light massage, diligently working over you, leaving no space unattended to. He'd make this his full-time job if circumstances would allow it.

The left half of your shirt is almost entirely damp, your nipple gradually hardening from the cold, poking through the fabric, only to be greeted with his burning mouth. Tongue flicking over it, the faintest pressure of his teeth sending it off.

But the right side can only be neglected for so long, stealing his attention away from your left. Marking it in much of the same way while his hand rises to cover the wet mess he's made of you, warding off the chill before it can grow uncomfortable.

"How long." Kiss. "Will you." Kiss. "Let me do this for?"

You trace the outline of his jaw with the tips of your fingers, humming. "I haven't thought that far yet."

Forever, or until you can't stand it anymore. Whichever comes first.

Enabling him is the worst thing you can do in this situation. You've only got so much time before the dinner bell rings. Even less to change shirts and scurry across the hideout before everything grows cold, but you just can't bring yourself to deny him...whatever this is.

Even if you did want to, it's so hard to find your voice when he peeks up at you. Gentle brown eyes peering through thick lashes, drinking in your expression as he mouths at your breast, drool spilling off his tongue like you're the best thing he's ever tasted.

His hand appears at the hem of your shirt, pushing it upward. Past your belly and over the stunning swell of your chest, and fuck, those eyes sparkle at the sight that greets him.

That mouth of his wobbles. Opening and closing, visibly searching for words that he doesn't have the capacity to conjure up right now. Doesn't find them until after he's pressed a kiss into the underside of your boob. "Has anyone ever told you that you're breathtaking?"

"You," deadpanning. "Every day since the day I met you."

Ekko looks away from you, suddenly very, very interested in the stitching of the couch. As if he's ever cared about the odd green square that covers up the burn mark one of his inventions left behind.

It's remarkably easy to slip your hand beneath his chin, delicately turning him back to look at you. His eyes are a tad reluctant to meet with yours, still bracing for the impact of you expressing some kind of irritation with him that has never, ever been there.

"And I love every second of it." Whispering. A secret meant solely for the two of you to share.

Oh, he just lights up at the sound of that. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He's still just as slow as he was the first time. Diligently kissing at your soft skin, loving on every little inch. Hot, wet tongue tracing shapes and his fingers smearing the saliva left behind. The other hand works carefully at the side he's not playing with yet, massaging loose circles into it. His callouses are just the right amount of friction, enough to create a slight drag that you can't possibly ignore.

"And you don't mind me doin' this?" He shouldn't be talking with his lips half wrapped around your nipple, but ugh, the vibration of his voice...

You're not sure when your hand made its way to the back of his neck, but its there, stroking up and down in a manner that always makes him melt. "I would have told you if it bothered me."

If you had known that something as simple as a new, form-fitting shirt would have ended in this, you would have invested in one sooner. Scratch that, an entire clothing business. Maybe you can find a shirt that'll fit him, too. Give yourself an excuse to kiss and suck on those lovely, bulging biceps that you so often find yourself staring at.

A yawn takes over his handsome face. Contagious. Passing on to you like a bad cold. And just like that, it wanders back to him, running its course through him one, two, three more times until his eyes have watered to the point of tears streaming down his cheeks.

Your thumb swipes out, stroking them away and smearing even more of the paint across his face. Oops. "You still have time for a nap if that's what you need."

"Here?" There's that glint in his eye again. Hopeful.

The bed would be so much more comfortable, but... "I don't see why not."

And as he helps to pull your shirt back down and snuggles down into his favorite spot on your chest, you can't help but get the feeling that you've unintentionally created his new favorite thing to do with you.

...not that you're complaining.

#help this was supposed to be a 500 word warmup and somehow it quadrupled in size??#ekko x reader #ekko x you #ekko smut #ekkothroughtime writes #ekko

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