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bokugaos · 4 years

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A Little Reminder.

length: 2.5k

tags: nsfw, kuroo x f!reader, possessive kuroo, alcohol, penetration, bathroom sex, against the door/wall, mirror, creampie, love bites, jealous sex, walk of shame

a/n: for @mrs-kuroojinguji ;; the mrs kuroo bc my babe is in heat in pain rn ♡ kinda an expansion of a blurb from a few weeks ago ( 〃▽〃) and bc possessive tetsu is so mf yum dammit

Kuroo Tetsurou is a lot of things.

Smart, naturally. A captain, selfless in his endeavours to bring the name of his school and fellow teammates against his rivals, some of those who are technically his friends if he could so admit. Arrogant, yes, though he’d be remiss to call himself that. Not quite boisterous, but he knows he carries a certain charm and flair.

But there is one thing that Kuroo Tetsurou is not.

And it is patient.

He leans his forearms against the bar, peeling at the moist label that is already coming off of the cold beer bottle he is holding. He glances at his watch, exhaling heavily through his nose. He drums his fingers against the side of the dark glass. You are late.

Kuroo is about to pull out his phone to text you when, over the buzz of the crowd and the music blaring from the speakers above, he hears the door open and close.

He glances over and bite his lip slightly when he sees you walk in. You’re wearing red—his favorite color, the dress clinging to your curves like absolute sin.

Your hair cascades over your shoulder, exposing the side of your neck and your collarbone to the stale air of the bar. You spot him and start to walk over when someone blocks your path.

Kuroo looks on, irate. He downs the rest of his beer and gets up.

He shoves past a few people on his way over to you. You are talking animatedly to a rather handsome looking guy, but from what he can gather, none of the words you are saying to him are “fuck off”. He is tall and broad-shouldered, his hair is of a color that Kuroo absolutely despises, swept in a stylish pompadour. His teeth are blindingly white. He reminds Kuroo of the newly hired interns in his office.

You actually have a smile on your face and lean in to touch his arm. Kuroo feels jealousy rush through his entire being, lighting every nerve on fire.

“Tetsu!” You greet him once he finally catches up to you. You gently touches his shoulder. “Tetsu, this is my friend. And this is Tetsurou.”

“Nice to meet you,” They shook hands, and Kuroo tried to be polite. But his neutral face always holds a hint of annoyance, so he’s not sure if he’s being convincing in the slightest, not that he cares.

“Do you mind if he joins us for drinks?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

Kuroo bites back a groan as you gaze up at him with those eyes that he can never refuse. “Fine.”

You squeeze his hand appreciatively and the three of you find an empty booth to sit in. Kuroo moves to go sit next to you, but the other guy is quicker, and slides into the seat beside yours, forcing your own boyfriend to sit across from you.

Your friend orders a round of drinks, and Kuroo sits there nursing his beer as the other man intrudes on what’s supposed to be time that you and him are supposed to have alone together for the first time in weeks.

—

Kuroo Tetsurou is many things.

Jealous is definitely one of them.

He watches as this man he doesn’t know wraps his arm around your waist in what is supposed to be a jovial sideways hug, but it doesn’t escape his notice that his hand lingered on you a moment too long, traveling southbound to rest on your ass, and that he leaned in a little too close.

Kuroo’s fingers grip onto the beer bottle, and he imagines it closing around the other man’s throat. Not that he’d ever actively try to hurt a lesser man outside the court, but the thought makes him feel better, at least.

Your friend leans over and whispers something into your ear and you laugh, the slight bounce making your skirt ride a little upwards, exposing even more skin. That is the last straw.

Kuroo slams his beer bottle against the table and both you and the man jump in your seats.

“Didn’t you say you need to use the bathroom to freshen up?” Kuroo asks, sounding both calm and polite. He casts a cursory glance to the other guy. “It’s your first time here, I’ll show you where it is.”

You nod and nudge your friend to take his hand off of you. Kuroo grabs you by the wrist and drags you toward the back of the bar. He leads you over to the bathrooms, ducks his head into the ladies room, and when he sees that it’s empty, he pulls you inside and locks the door behind him.

“Tetsu, what—”

In an instant, your back is against the door and Kuroo is pressing his body flush against yours. His lips attack your own, one hand gripping at your waist and the other sliding under your ass to hook a leg over his hip. The muffled music blasted outside, making the door vibrate. You wonder in the back of your mind if the people outside can hear you.

You moan as his tongue slides into your mouth at the same time as his groin grinds against yours, pinning you there as you wiggle against him.

You place your hands on his shoulders and gently push him back, desperate for air. Panting, you let out a short, breathy laugh. “Is something wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong,” he growls, and you hear the sound of his belt buckle coming undone, along with the zipper of his fly. His mouth comes to your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and nibbling on it gently. “Did you like it when he was touching you?”

“Tetsu,” you pant as he sucks at the exposed skin of your neck before biting down, marking you with his teeth and sucking bruises along your collarbone. “I don’t under—”

“Didn’t know you’re such a slut.” He spits, hiking up the short length of your skirt over your hips, his rough, calloused hands sliding up and down the underside of your thigh. His lips came to hover over yours. “But I’m the only one who can touch you like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely over a whisper. You feel his clothed dick leaning against your core, your panties already soaked.

“Tell me,” he scoffs, coming in to bite at your lower lip. His hand that’s on your waist slides lower, under your skirt, and slides your ruined underwear to the side. “Do you think he can make you feel good?”

You whimper as you feel him rubbing his cock against your slick entrance, your arms are looped around his neck and grip at the back of his shirt as you try to push your hips against his. He retreats slightly, and his frown turns into a slight smirk.

“You think he can fuck you like I do?”

“No, no one else can,” you moan as he rubs his length against your core again, giving special attention to your clit with his thumb. “I’m all yours. Need you so bad, please fuck me, please—”

Before you even have a chance to finish speaking, Kuroo thrusts into you, hard, and you cry out for him to hear. His cock is big and hot, and it stretches you almost painfully as your body adjusts to his length. His lips are on yours again and he shoves his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you against the door, his hands gripping onto you tightly as you try to keep up with his rough pace.

Your mouth falls away from his and you let out a cry as he pumps into you hard and deep, the head of his cock grazing deliciously against your walls.

“That’s right, baby,” Kuroo grunts, burying his nose into your hair to breathe in your scent. “Let everyone in this fucking bar know who you belong to.”

“Tetsu,” you gasp as his nails dig into your skin. Then his hand slides downwards, further down to your clit, and starts furiously rubbing circles against it. “S-So good—ahhh..!”

Kuroo pulls you forward so that your shoulders are the only part of you against the door and grabs onto your hips, dragging you towards him with every forward thrust of his own. He hits you so deep it almost hurts.

“Louder,” he orders, rolling his hips just right. “Scream my name louder.”

Your head falls back and you do as commanded, screaming his name as your walls clenched hard around his shaft. He pulls out, and you thought he’s going to come as well, but instead he grabs a hold of your arm.

He leads you over to the sinks and bends you over, your arms resting against the cool porcelain. You can see him staring at you in the reflection of the mirror, his predatory gaze fixated on you. He grabs the skirt of your dress and hikes it up over your waist, exposing your shapely ass in the red lace you decided to wear that night.

Kuroo takes a second to appreciate the sight before moving your panties to the side again and burying his cock into your folds once more.

You bite back a moan as the head of his cock drags against your walls, and he strokes inside of you slowly a few times, dragging out each movement as his hands grip your ass, smoothing over the skin appreciatively.

You watch his reflection in the mirror as he thrusts into you, taking his time. His eyebrows are furrowed, as if in deep concentration, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. His cheeks are slightly reddened, almost like he’d run a great distance, and his mouth is agape as quiet grunts escaped past his lips.

He catches your gaze in the mirror and he smirks. You can’t look away, too entranced by his eyes as they bore into yours. He slams into you, causing you to jerk forward, gripping onto the sides of the sink as your breasts threaten to spill out of the top of your dress.

“Keep your eyes on me, kitten,” Kuroo orders as he fucks you hard, the sound of skin slapping filling the small room. You nod weakly and try your best to keep your knees from buckling as his cock works you perfectly with every rough thrust of his hips.

“Tetsu,” you reach back for his hand. “Please, I’m so close!”

Kuroo leans forward to kiss the back of your shoulder, and brings his hand around to your clit. His fingers graze against it, and the feeling makes you twitch, but otherwise he doesn't move.

“Beg me for it.”

Your head hangs low for a moment before looking back up at his reflection. “...again?”

He thrusts into you hard, just once, and then holds you there, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. You cry out his name.

“Please, Tetsu! I need it, I need you, please let me come, please—”

He starts fucking you again, his speed picking up along with the roughness of his thrusts. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you whimper as he pummels into you over and over again.

“Say my name. Louder.”

“Tetsu—”

His dick pounds against you, and your mouth fall open.

“Tetsurou—!”

“Now keep your eyes on the mirror,” he grunts as his fingers start working against your clit. “I want you to see what you look like, falling apart and coming hard on my cock.”

Your face is flushed, your eyelids fluttering as you try to watch yourself hurtling toward bliss in the mirror. “I want you to remember that I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like this.”

His smirk still held in your periphery, and you keep your eyes on your own reflection for as long as you can before the sensation of his hands and his length inside of you becomes too much. You come, screaming his name, collapsing against the sink as your walls flutter around him. He follows you off the edge, spilling his seed inside of you as you try to catch your breath.

Kuroo rests his forehead against your shoulder as he slips out of you. You turn to face him, adjusting the skirt of your dress before grabbing him by the collar and pulling him in for a kiss.

The kiss is surprisingly gentle, in contrast with the sex you just had. His hands cup the sides of your face and stroked gently at your cheekbones as he drinks you in. Your hands run appreciatively over his chest before you slip your hands between your bodies to help tuck his now softening cock back in his pants.

“What was that for?” you ask in a quiet voice as you pull away, your thumb coming up to graze against his right cheek.

“Nothing,” he lies. “I just missed you.”

You shake your head, a knowing smile on your lips. “He’s a friend, that’s all. He’s harmless, I promise!”

“Never seen a friend act like that towards me,” Kuroo counters, glaring off to the side. You chuckle and kiss him again, wiping the frown from his face.

You turn to check your reflection and see the bruises from Kuroo’s devilish mouth littering your neck and collarbone. You move your hair away from that side of your neck, making sure that the marks are in full view, knowing full well he’d particularly appreciate it if you don’t hide the reminder he left on your skin.

“I think everyone will know who I belong to,” you grin, stepping up onto your tiptoes to kiss him on the nose. “Now, come on. I’m not doing the walk of shame on my own out of this bar. You started it, so now you have to finish it.”

Kuroo chuckles and unlocks the bathroom door. He puts arm around your waist and you exit, standing tall with your chin up as the people around you regard you with wide eyes. The music still pulses around the room, and people are still talking amongst themselves and having a good time, but there are definitely several eyes on you both as you make your way back to your booth.

This time, you slide into the seat next to Kuroo as you get back, and the aforementioned man stares at you both.

“Sorry that took so long,” you apologize, clearing your throat. Under the table, your hand comes to rest on Kuroo’s thigh. He leans back in his seat, his arm slung over your shoulders. He sends him a grin and a wink as he follows the line of his vision to where the numerous hickeys had formed on your skin.

Kuroo Tetsurou is a lot of things.

Smug is definitely one of them.

#kuroo smut #kuroo x reader smut #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou #haikyuu smut #kuroo tetsuro x reader #.kuroo!#.fics!

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poptod · 3 years

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Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 4 (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: He needs to listen. He needs to understand.

Notes: i havent been able to write recently bc ive been spending a lot of time with my boytoy but hes off being a firefighter rn so ive just been nonstop writing and drawing. its ridiculous. i finished pt 3 and 4 in like three days. WC: 5.5k

There were less paintings in Thebes. White marble walls and pillars reigned supreme, a stark contrast from the colorful streets of Memphis. You decided not to bring it up, or at least not at the moment you realized it, as in that moment you were face to face with the mayor of Thebes. He was shaking Ahkmenrah's hand, a polite smile on his lips.

"It's good to see you again, Piye," Ahk said. You had to stop and go over the sentence again to make sure you heard it right. Piye wasn't on the same boat as yours, and wouldn't arrive for another day.

"As it is you, my King," the mayor replied.

A trail of servants, soldiers, and slaves passed both behind and in front of you, lugging the offerings to specific temples, and the royal belongings behind the Pharaoh. Haji was put to the use, as unfortunate as it was, and you couldn't help but apologize when he was asked to haul a massive reed basket full of dried dates.

"It's alright," he said, huffing with effort. "I've done this before. Not usually uphill, though."

"Sorry," you said again, wincing at the way sweat beaded on his forehead.

The massive block of shade casted by the royal house's overhang was a relief for those carrying items, and for Ahk as well, as this was his home-away-from-home. Images of Ahkmenrah remained painted across the walls, the only color in the crystal city. The Nile flowed steadily beside the house, short fences leading to a plentiful garden through which the water came, and date trees that grew taller than any building.

The mayor, who you slowly realized was also named Piye, left your group there with a bid for a good evening. Along with that, he invited the Pharaoh and you––his pet––to dinner with him and his family. You weren't sure how enjoyable that would be, but either way the decision was out of your hands.

Following Ahkmenrah, you found yourselves in a large room with a domed ceiling, tall arches framed by red curtains. Outside, trees rustled in the gentle wind with no hint of society. You silently cheered––it was better, you believed, to have a view of the land, rather than of the city.

"Tomorrow I shall take you on a true tour of the city," Ahk said, coming up behind you till his breath fell sudden on your shoulder. You jumped slightly, but arms around your waist stilled you, pulling you into an unfortunately familiar warmth. "How does that sound?"

You said nothing, staring into the silent night.

"We can go through the markets," he suggested, shifting so he held you tighter. "If you want for anything, I will give it to you. I'm sure you've gone through many markets unable to afford anything, so now's a chance to make up for some of that."

"... thank you," you said, very nearly whispered, as hesitance seized you fiercely. Giving into his words––you said you'd never do that. He was not threatening you in any way, so why would you try to please him?

"Are you tired yet?" He asked.

"Not especially," you said, voice still strained.

"How does a game of Senet sound, then?"

"I've... never heard of it," you said honestly, glancing to the side as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"Really? I think you'll quite like it. It's a game of wits and chance. Are you interested?"

You paused before saying, "sure."

He grinned, leaving you alone in the moonlit room as he raced to the servants bringing in his personal belongings. While you waited, you stared out the massive, pale arches, bright as the moon in the perfectly clear sky. Barely a breeze passed by, leaving the warm, humid climate to cling to your skin, slowing your breath as peace reached you. Thebes was nice––just not the city. The countryside was beautiful, and Ahkmenrah's home here was beautiful.

It was not hard for a room to be better than your previous room, tied up in the middle of inescapable stone walls, still you took special care to appreciate the freedom here. Yes, there was a large drop between the pristine upper floor and the ground, but that hardly mattered to you. By your reckoning, you could milk Ahkmenrah's affection for you. If he truly would not let you go, you might as well make the most of it, and earn whatever you longed for in your poorer life.

Steps echoing in the empty hall grew closer, leading to the creaking hinges of the large, wooden doors behind you. You turned, coming to see the Pharaoh grinning like a dope, entirely uncharacteristic for his royal attire.

"I brought my board from home, but I've got one here as well. Made of crystal and ivory, actually, but I don't like it as much as my wooden one," he said, rambling as he set the board down on the carpeted floor.

The board was presented as a tiny, rectangular table with black and red squares for the pieces to move on. Dark wood legs held up the board, within which was contained a drawer filled with the pieces, numbering two pairs of five. One style was a long pillar with a head on top, and the other was a round-base pyramid.

Over the course of the next couple minutes, Ahkmenrah explained the rules to you, how the pieces moved forward, and that whoever got all their pieces off first won. The basics were gone over, but you soon started without much knowledge on how to play. He taught as you went along, and soon you were truly playing, concentrated deeply on your strategy and how to win. There were a few different tactics you could try to slow down Ahk or speed yourself up, but as you grew engrossed in the game, you hardly noticed the smile spreading across the Pharaoh's face.

"You might actually beat me," he said as you took another one of his pieces, sending it back five paces.

"What, you didn't think I was smart enough at first?" You said with an almost sly grin.

"No, I – actually," he paused, "yes. Sorry. I might've underestimated you."

"Don't worry," you said, handing the dice to him. "You're not the first."

"Really?"

"I ran into this stand at one point. It was a man who took your coin and hid it under one of three cups, switched them all up, and asked you where the coins were. If you got it right, you were paid in double, and if you got it wrong, he took your money."

"Basic deal."

"Yes. I came as a young child, a stranger to the city. He thought I'd be easy prey, so he did his trick, but I noticed he was dropping the coins off the edge of the table and into his lap. So I pick-pocketed him for all the money he took from people."

"That... doesn't sound like he underestimated your smarts so much as underestimating your conniving."

"Perhaps so," you said, moving another one of your pieces to steal one of his, sending it back by three. "But for me, the two go hand in hand."

"I can see," he chuckled, his blush visible even in the moonlight.

After a long time spent finishing the game, as the last move off the board had to be an exact number, you won mostly by chance. Still you cheered, grinning satisfied as Ahk held his head low in failure. He chuckled though, his shoulders shaking with the silent laughter, bringing you great gratification.

"Where did you learn these tactics?"

"Ever been to Nubia?"

"A couple times," he said, looking to the side as he attempted to recall it. "My father was rather cruel to them, so I try not to visit too much. They don't really like the royal family."

"Understandably so," you said with crossed arms, watching him deftly pick up the pieces and cram them back in the drawer. "They memorized your father's military movements, and I assumed you learned your own tactics from him. Applying that to the fact that you're more passive aggressive than actually aggressive, I decided you'd probably be more on defensive, creating strong barriers instead of stealing my pieces."

"... Wow."

"You're also less likely to overcome my pieces because you're trying to gain my favor."

"Okay, I don't need an in depth analysis of my childhood and psyche," he said, holding his hand up but still laughing.

"You asked," you reminded him.

"I did. And I'd like to hear more, when I'm conscious enough to actually understand it," he said as he set away the board. He returned quickly to you, pulling you into a tight hug, before promptly releasing you with a kiss to your neck.

"Tired?"

"Mhm," he hummed, hand trailing down to tangle in yours.

Once affirmed of your presence, he led you along the barren, white floor, your reflections standing beneath you with chests pressed together. The plush of linen sheets and pillows caught you when he pushed you, and soon your body was cradled by the bed and overshadowed by the Pharaoh above you. Crownless, barren of cape or gold, and caught enraptured in your eyes.

As he loomed above you, seemingly caught in his adoration for you, you noted with much confusion that you were breathing normally. Your heart raced horribly in your chest, that still remained a constant sickness. Yet your muscles relaxed, sleepiness seeping into your bones, hypnotized by his loving gaze.

"You're cute," he said with a sudden, wide smile. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you put your hands on his face, pushing him away. He just laughed, falling over onto his back.

"Go to sleep," you told him, lying down on your side.

"Very well. But in the morning," he leaned over your turned shoulder, kissing your cheek, "be ready to be out in public with me."

His arms once more wrapped tight around your middle, tugging you into his heat as he tucked you under his chin. You had several questions, both concerning his statement and other things, but you decided to wait until tomorrow. Tears were budding in your eyes from your incessant yawning, and sleep was a blink away.

You dreamed of a lake that night––laced with lily pads, blue and purple petals sprouting from green buds. Inside each pocket full of pollen, a sun glowed and illuminated your searching fingers. A black stone sky towered above you, dark and cold with wind, creating a deep contrast between it and the warm water.

You awoke to a different stone sky, shaped in the same dome. This one was made of white quartz, carved delicately, and lit by the strength of the sun. Recognition came to you instantaneously, and you recalled the trip to Thebes and the game from the night before. The only difference was the absence of heat, of pressure on your waist, breath on your neck. Sitting up, you realized you were alone in the room. How rare a chance––unsupervised, with massive windows beside you that you could easily climb out of.

Before you could even think of how to act in the presence of such opportunity, the doors slowly opened, revealing Ahk with a tray in his hand. You furrowed your brow. Couldn't he have asked one of his servants to get that? Or in the very least, open the door for him.

"I have never claimed to be a chef. I want you to know that before you eat this," he said, which was a very alarming thing to be told before being presented a meal.

"Ummm..."

"That sounded bad. Let me restart. I am not a very good cook, but I did what I could."

"Why can't the chefs cook?"

"I'm not asking anyone to work during the Opet festival," he said with a frown, before calling out, "Naguib?!"

"Yeah?" He called back, footsteps soon nearing.

"What about him?" You asked.

"Oh, he's not here for work," Ahk said in a bright tone, looking over his shoulder to see Naguib entering the room.

"I'm just here to make sure he doesn't burn down the house," Naguib chuckled, leaning on the door frame.

"Yes, and thank you for that. Come here," Ahk said, motioning the servant either. He dutifully obeyed, and Ahk pulled out a small pouch, handing it to him. "Have fun."

"Thank you, sir," Naguib said, bowing to the King before ducking out.

"Funny little man, that," Ahk said once he was sure Naguib was out of sight.

"How so?" You asked, mildly amused at their antics.

"He's the only one who can switch readily between free time and work time. Not many people have that switch, you know," he said, turning back to you.

"Do you?"

"I like to think so. What do you think?" He raised himself to tower above you, his expression suddenly falling into a shadowed cold. "Can I put on the face of a King?"

That cocky bastard knew the answer perfectly well. A man so aware of his own emotions, of the way he carried himself, would obviously know about this aspect of himself. Many go their whole lives without ever cracking into who they truly are; but not the Pharaoh. He knew every crevice of himself, and he used it to his advantage. Every weakness hidden. Every strength glorified.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, a cocky smirk on his face as you emerged from your thoughts.

You frowned.

"Oh, don't pout now, pet," he cooed as his finger trailed down the side of your face. "Let's see how breakfast turned out, hmm?"

He soothed and gained your vice attention at once with that little motion, that little motion he'd used a number of times before. Like himself, he had taken it upon himself to know you, to understand why you reacted in certain ways just as much as how you reacted. His expression gave little of that information away, so instead you turned to the tray and scanned its' contents.

You first noticed the wooden bowl of dates, set off in the corner of the platter beside two slats of seared meat. In the middle of it all was the largest plate, upon which he had placed an array of stirfry vegetables, garnished with an anise flower. Two cups were set to the side, filled with a faintly yellow tea. You reached for that first, as you had no idea what it was, and curiosity was always your main concern.

"What is this?" You asked, scanning the drink thoroughly.

"Blue lotus tea. Couldn't find any stores of beer, and I wanted to show you the flower. It's quite helpful in a number of things, medicinally... and recreationally," he said, biting at his bottom lip as he took the other glass.

"So... a drug," you said, raising a single brow.

"You could say that," he said as he took a sip, never breaking eye contact with you.

"Why don't I trust you?"

"Because I'm untrustworthy," he said, winking.

In the end you did end up drinking the tea, and the honey stirred within the warm water had you finishing the entire cup. Along with that, the two of you ate the various dishes Ahk had made with the help of Naguib, finding most of them––in the very least––edible. The meat was definitely burnt, and the stirfry was a little heavy on the anise. Overall, not bad––you probably shouldn’t expect more than that from a Pharaoh who had been handfed all his life.

He dressed himself once all was said and done concerning breakfast, twirling in the mirror to scan every inch of his outfit. There was no effort within it to conceal his identity as Pharaoh––in fact, it was enlarged, prominent and obvious on every golden brace and silk thread imbued within it. A regal, tall crown made of gold and bearing a poised cobra ended it all off, concealing the soft brown curls atop his head.

A few questions remained on the tip of your tongue, waiting for your brain to decide it was the right time to ask. After a little while of holding back, you decided that the 'right' moment would never come, and asked your question forthwith.

"Why are we here again?" You asked, thoughtlessly rubbing the sheets between your thumb and forefinger.

"The Opet festival," he answered, preening his cape. "It's an event that celebrates the strength of the Pharaoh. It'll be my first... since my father gave up the throne. We pray and make offerings to Amun, and the commonfolk are welcomed to ask their own prayers upon Amun's statue. Perhaps you've noticed it?"

Ah. That would explain the 11 foot tall statue made of gold.

"We'll be celebrating wealth for a little while, but in a week we take the barge to Luxor, where we shall enter the temple of Amun, and hopefully converse with the Gods. Amun, specifically."

"Yeah, I gathered that much. So all that food... it's offerings for this God?"

"Some of it, yes. Everyone brings their own offerings, and as I am a man of plenty, I brought plenty of offerings. It is also our duty as the government and protector of the people to replenish my citizens' energy, and so much of that food is actually for those who travel days and weeks to pray at Amun's feet. You, and the worshippers of Amun, will be well-looked after," he said, taking your hands softly in his and coercing you to your feet.

"Is that how it's always been?"

"As long as I remember. It wavers with cruel leaders... but never really vanishes. Our magic is as important as night and day, essential as fruitful trees, and as entwined with our lives as water. It is hard to break the worship engrained in generations."

While he spoke, he began to undress you, pulling at the buttons and knots until the fabric fell from you. Off your shoulders, off your hips, down your arms, until the white linen pooled on the marble floor. Soon you stood naked before him, but he kept his eyes on yours. Never strayed from your given attention.

"I know you don't adhere to our religion. I want you to know I don't mind. I would not force you into anything, especially not something as controversially widespread as religion," he said, cocking his chin upwards with a smile.

He took your hand again and led you out of the room. Chill breeze brushed by your naked stomach, sending shivers down the sensitive skin so readily bared. Once you reached the main entrance room, he let go of your hand, kneeling to dig into one of the massive bags packed before the trip. Most of them had been dumped in the front room, as the servants and soldiers were tired and ready for sleep the night before.

You attempted to look over his shoulder, an endeavor that was fruitless as it was needless. Soon he found what he was looking for, and he turned to you, presenting it in his open arms.

"Your clothes. From before. I had them washed and packed," he said, handing them to you.

Everything was there. Your long, red vest coat, your skirt with the panel tied into the waist, your buttoned shirt with the collar raised high onto your neck. Things you didn't genuinely expect to see again, and certainly not in the same shape as before.

"Thank you," you murmured, brow furrowed as you flipped through the layers. Without haste you pulled on the skirt, settling into your stolen shirt and the long coat over it. The only thing missing was your weapon––a staff with two spikes hammered into the end. Not the greatest weapon, but it served you well.

"New places can make me nervous, and personally it helps when I have something familiar with me. So I understand why you wanted them back."

"Yes, it's... good to be back in my clothes. Your style is a little much for me," you confessed, remembering the dress with no coverage of your chest except the straps holding the skirt up. A skirt that was see through.

"That's alright. I'm confused by yours as well."

If you were told anything by the various Egyptians you'd met in your travels, it was that Egypt was hot. Always sunny. Always humid. As you looked upwards, wide eyes meeting the grey sky, you nearly jumped. It had been a while since you'd seen a fully overcast sky, where clouds blocked out the sun and the horizons.

"Hmm," Ahk hummed as the two of you left the tiny palace, his hand encasing yours.

"Is it usually like this here?" You asked, looking up to Ahk. To your surprise, you had to squint, the sun still shining bright, white light through the fog.

"No," he said, beginning to walk down the steps, and taking you with. "Actually, it's usually a tad warmer than Memphis. No problem. I'm sure it'll clear out before the ceremony. We've got a week, after all."

He took you into the unfamiliar streets, through graffitied walls until stone turned to marble, great pillars surrounding a massive circle market. Stalls of various types spiraled down into the middle, where a towering obelisk overlooked all trade. Indecipherable hieroglyphs lined each side, though the base of the black stone remained invisible, hidden behind wooden stalls.

Once you entered the center, you noted brick beneath your feet, black stones running into a spiral in the midst of the white bricks. If you followed the path of the black stones, you would find yourself in the center of the market. As tantalizing as that exploration sounded, your hand was firmly set in Ahk's palm, and he had different plans.

You must've passed by a dozen carts before he finally stopped, halting you before a wooden stand showcasing a number of scarves. Each held a sheerness so intricate that you could see straight through it. The seller noticed your amazement, an amazement that had to be common, as he knew exactly what had caught your attention.

"These are made out of silk from China. Wonderful seamstresses they have, there. So thin you may draw the whole shawl through a common ring," the seller said, thumbing through a couple before pulling a blood red scarf out from beneath the stack.

He pulled a ring off his finger, and with great care, threaded the whole scarf through it. Before you could even react to the performance, Ahk was pulling a handful of coins out of his purse and setting them on the counter. The seller grinned, thanked him for the purchase, and just like that the interaction was complete. Ahk took your hand once more and led you away, continuing through the outer ring of the market.

"Beautiful color, isn't it?" He said, watching the way it wrinkled and fell in his hand. You made to nod, but paused as his arms drew over your head, placing the scarf over your shoulders.

"This is yours," you tried to say, but he shushed you, tutting sweetly.

"It's yours. And it looks fantastic on you," he said with a smile, pulling your entwined hands to his lips, where he kissed the back of your hand.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying your best not to say anything. That's how this day would go––he would buy you anything you looked at, flaunt his wealth in your face, utterly spoiling you in front of a whole city. Already your face felt as though it were aflame, nervous eyes set fiercely on the ground in front of you.

Along the way, Ahk stopped at a few jewelry carts, where he bought you an array of golden bracelets, faience necklaces, and ivory rings. It wasn't long till there was barely any room left for new gifts, though you suspected that was his plan.

"Here," he said, pausing your stride with a hand on your chest. "One of my friends here in Thebes runs a bakery. He makes the best tiger rolls I've ever had."

Must be good considering how much of them he's had, you thought dully. As usual, you kept your thought to yourself, and followed Ahk inside without complaint.

You were no longer scared of Ahk, you realized, watching him greet his friend with a gusto you rarely ever saw. He was just... irritating. Annoyingly sweet, painfully perceptive, and desperate to earn your favor. The things he dragged you along to do with him were the worst––markets too crowded for your tastes, too rich and uptight for your liking, or boats that you clearly stated you were uncomfortable being on.

The only good part was that outside, he didn't pay as much attention to you. While sitting around in the palace, his hands wandered you constantly, eyes set unmoving upon your body. He memorized those curves, the dips, the intricate veins, and the way you moved in those long hours. Outside, he was preoccupied with other stimulus and left you mostly alone.

Bitterness settled on your tongue. Your old routine was entirely lost, cast to the wind by the Pharaoh's greedy hands. The routine you loved, that kept you sane, and more importantly, kept you moving.

"Do you want anything, Amoke?" Ahk asked, leaning in to speak more intimately. You, of course, shied away, but was mostly stopped by Ahk's hand on your upper arm.

"Um... no. I'm not very hungry," you mumbled, and though he paused to glare suspiciously at you, he relented.

"Alright," he said, kissing your forehead before rushing back to the counter.

With a bag of tiger rolls in hand you left, Ahk continuing to pull you along just as before. This time he did take you down the spiral, and as you passed each stall, you realized it was a conglomeration of different cultures; an amalgamation of the western world. Art from Mali caught your eye. You had gone through there a few times, and the style of their statues had always intrigued you.

The Pharaoh noted your interest, and paused to take you there. He let you decide what you wanted, payed for it in full, and complimented your taste.

"You have a good eye," he had said, "for the divine."

"The divine?" you repeated, looking down at the statue. The form of a plush woman lay in your hands, smooth stone showcasing wide hips, large breasts, and a tiny head.

"A woman, a mortal who creates life, is as close to Gods as we will ever be," he said, looking over your shoulder to scan the figure as well.

The crowd had yet to notice the golden fabric of a Pharaoh, but the singular citizens who did notice were shellshocked, and hadn't the right mind to react at all. Dumbfoundedness gave way the closer you got to the center of the market, and by the time the black pyre casted you entirely in shadow, people were bowing at the King's feet, murmuring astounded praise as he passed by.

You looked up to gauge Ahk's mindset, finding something that terrified you more than it should have; he was smiling. Self-satisfied, pride puffing out his chest, silently declaring their praise to be a necessity.

A man intoxicated by his own fumes is dangerous––you knew that all too well, and fear began to seep back into your image of him, sending mold that tore down your irritation and replaced it with nauseous anxiety. His hand holding yours was now an anchor that sank you into a bottomless sea, instead of the earlier annoyance.

The combination of your own growing panic and the increasingly loud and desperate voices of the crowd sent you into overdrive. Hands reached up from bowed heads to touch the face of Ahkmenrah, to feel his grace and holiness overtake their bodies. Prayers surrounded you, and with the Pharaoh preoccupied, you fell to the ground and crawled out of the mass of the black land's people.

Once free from the writhing confines, you left the market sniffling, headed for somewhere lonelier. You hated to rely on others to heal you, but for a moment you longed for Haji. He had been kind to you. He would understand. Ahkmenrah didn't, and he never would––you swore this to yourself, your back sliding down the graffitied wall of someone's home.

Hiding your face in your hands, you pressed your knees to your chest, and curled up tight. No one would bother you; you looked like a homeless person, after all.

"Amoke?" Came a soft voice from above you.

You didn't move.

"Let's get home," Ahk murmured, his hands slowly moving up your arms till he gracefully pulled you to your feet.

Your eyes, once hidden and blurred, now opened to the grey light of today.

Ahk had no clothes on.

That was the first thing you noticed. The second thing you noticed was that he was smiling apologetically at you, nervous tics appearing as he chewed on his lip.

"Why are you naked?" You asked in a pathetically weak voice.

"Well, um... it was a little hard to leave the crowd, so I removed all my identifiers. They'll probably steal my clothes, so, um.. hopefully Naguib packed my other nice outfit," he said, beginning the walk back home. You followed quickly behind, still going over his bare skin.

"You could've left your underwear on, you know," you said.

"Oh." He paused. "The thought hadn't occurred to me."

You chuckled weakly, half-hearted as you trudged up the little hill. By the time you reached the doors of the tiny palace, the silence had stretched uncomfortably between you, and you were eager to hide away.

Ahk pulled the door open for you and said, "I'm sorry, by the way," before following after you and shutting the door behind him. The click of metal echoed in the empty, marble house, bouncing off the bare walls.

"For what?" You asked, unable to face him as your voice cracked.

"Bringing you to the market while I'm all dressed up. I knew I would get a lot of attention, but I didn't know how it would affect you," he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your head into his chest to hug you.

For a moment you were comforted, until you very abruptly realized that he was still naked. At that point you wriggled out of his grasp, though your plan backfired a little, as the moment you drew away your eyes scanned the entirety of him, from his feet to his head, and he ardently noticed your interest. Your panic had absorbed you so entirely that you hardly felt your cheeks burning with a bright red blush.

"I'll... go put some clothes on," he said with a smile, shaking his head.

He left you alone in the big, empty drawing room, occupied by a vacant kitchen on the far side of the house, and three bags of luggage laid haphazardly in the middle. Your steps that took you deeper into the walls echoed around you, causing you to move slow and careful.

Eventually you explored the whole of the room, finding a small door to the right of the entrance, one that led into a long pathway. The chill wind snuck through the thick hedges as you padded down the stone walkway, lines of sand between the rocks sticking to the bottom of your feet. Through the thin walls, you glimpsed a sliver of a garden, the sight of a white fountain bringing the sound of rushing water to you.

The fountain, alabaster centerpiece of the small garden, flowed with crystal clear water that pooled on the ground in such depth that lilies had sprouted from the bottom. Green pads floated on the cool water, and the blue lotus flowers were all closed up in the sun's absence. The trail that had led you there continued within it, circling the fountain, and ultimately leading to a small, sandstone gazebo.

You sat on the gazebo's step, elbow on your knee as you leaned your cheek on the palm of your hand. Here the wind was not as harsh, only occasionally brushing against your hair, though the cold had yet to cease. It was a good explanation for the silent garden, barren of animal life. No, this was a haven of silence, of loneliness, and of plants. Beautiful, quiet plants.

As many things as there were on your mind, there was nothing truly in your head. Abstract ideas and emotions relating to your position, to your relationship with Ahkmenrah, to the tired nerves burnt out from your earlier panic.

"It's a bit cold," Ahk murmured in his low voice, placing a blanket over your hunched shoulders.

You whirled around to see Ahkmenrah standing above you, fully clothed. With a slight huff he sat down beside you, settling onto the hard step, his thigh pressed to yours.

"I hate my life," you mumbled, falling and landing on Ahk. You could feel the way he tensed, how his breath caught in his throat at the given contact.

"I –"

"And it's all your fault," you said, face still hidden in his shoulder.

"... I know."

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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