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boredzillenial · 11 days

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Hiii i have been loving how you write for Oscar Isaac’s characters so much especially with the King John one 😩. Anyways, can I request a blurb of Orestes from Agora with anything Valentine’s Day related? You can do it with another character if you haven’t watched Agora yet, I’m completely fine with anything you will put ^^

Hi Anon! I gave this my best crack so let’s see! No smut this go around just a writing exercise ☺️

My Dove

Orestes hears of a Saint that may span the hostility between him and his new bride.

Themes: just Orestes trying to win her over, and failing to keep himself from simping

Word count: (idk it’s short lol)

A.N: historical and movie reference mistakes abound — just for funsies don’t take this seriously lol

“A Saint?” Orestes questioned “Valentine?” He tasted the name, finding it strange on his tongue. “And what did he do exactly?”

Orestes’ advisor shrugged as he picked over the arrangement of fruits on the table, “died for something or another. You know how these Christians get, will celebrate anyone who dies for ‘em.” He grumbled as he tossed a scroll on the table only to snatch a cluster of grapes. “Heard the ladies say something about it being romantic though.” His wicked teasing grin grated against Orestes’ nerves.

“Christian’s and romance huh?” Orestes returned his advisors smirk with a tight lipped one of his own. “Who’d have thought.”

“Thought it may help with -“ Orestes halted the sentence with a stony look. “- sorry, sorry.” His advisor threw up his hands and he exited the dimly lit chambers. It was no secret that the arranged marriage of Orestes and a daughter of one of the leaders of the Christian movement was strained to say the least. But he was at his limit with his own men giving him shit for it.

Orestes was not one to shy away from an opportunity for power. So when occasion presented itself he took it, regardless of the rumors he’d heard of her. Though he didn’t agree with the Christian notion of forcing his wife to heel, he thought maybe this could be a bridge. Some shared respect for this new Saint to bring them together.

Orestes grabbed the scroll along with a bowl of her favorite fruits and sauntered down the hall. He filled his lungs slowly, intentionally, as he readied himself. This needs to work, I can’t continue on like this.

This marriage had quelled the violence in the streets and to her credit his wife was commanding in her call for peace. Especially when aided by her father who ensured the zealots yielded. But the violence only shifted from the streets into his home. ”She’s as gentle as a dove.” her father had claimed in his initial offer. What a lair.

While he knew what her father said she should do, to obey her husband, it seemed she never could find the strength to actually do so. ”You opportunistic snake!” she’d screamed on their wedding night when he came to bed. She’d tossed the nearest thing a which turned out to be one of their gifts, a beautiful ornamental bowl. ”Now is that any way to welcome your husband, my dove?” he’d shot back at her. Ever since that’d been her moniker. He shook his head and huffed at the memory, at least she has heart.

That memory alone sent his heart hammering and sweat moistening his palms. His footsteps echoed through the corridors softly as he neared the ornate doorway to the atrium, where she spent most of her days.

As he opened it wearily he cast his gaze across the expansive room. His position had granted him more than a fair bit of luxury, and she had insisted the atrium be filled with flowering plants and water features. There she laid along the edge of the pool, dress hiked up to her hip revealed deliciously smooth skin that glistened with beading sweat. Her leg making slow ripples in the water.

Orestes felt as if his heart stopped for a moment. With here defenses down like this, body relaxed in the morning light… Gods she was beautiful.

The sound of his next step alerted her to his presence. She shot up like a viper, quickly pulled her leg up and under her dress and glared at him. “What.” She hissed

“Have you heard of Valentine?” He strained to keep his voice casual and cast his gaze elsewhere in the room.

“Saint Valentine you mean,” Her voice betrayed her interest as she eyed the scroll in his hand. “I’ve heard mutterings.”

“Well,” He waggled the delicate paper for a moment as he moved, “if you care to know the story.” Carefully he placed it on a nearby bench along with the bowl of fruits beside it. Orestes strolled slowly back toward the doorway. “He was very brave.”

He heard quick shuffling and the rustle of parchment. “Wait -” Her voice echoed in the chamber.

Orestes stopped and turned slowly, a brow quirked in interest. “Yes, my dove?” The look on her face sent his heart hammering again. For a moment the features there had softened and a smile played at the edge of her lips before hardening again.

Her voice though, was gentle, “Thank you, Orestes.” Oh how she could so easily bring him to his knees when she chose to be soft.

He cleared his throat and gave a curt nod with a smile, “Of course.” With what little control he had left he turned and left the atrium. Once the doors closed behind him he leaned against them. She’s taken my soul, my dove…

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Taglist: @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxight-blog @faretheeoscar

#orestes fanfiction #orestes fanfic #orestes #agora #oscar isaac characters #inbox reply #drabble requests #requests are open

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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years

Text

When In Rome

Orestes (Agora) x Female Reader

Summary: You travel back in time and run into Orestes who makes sure you are very taken care of.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Power Play/Imbalance, Bathing Together, Bath Sex, Water Sex, Vaginal Sex, Kissing, Tattoos, Togas, Torches, Time Travel, The Butterfly Effect, Ancient Rome/Egypt, Roman Baths, The Night Sky

Word Count: 2k+

Read more Oscar stories HERE!

The warm water surrounds your naked body as you allow yourself to sink deeper into it, steam slowly snaking its way into your pores as the woman who helped you get undressed disappears behind an archway. You weren’t exactly sure what was going to happen to you once they separated you from Jack. You could have been put in jail, sold into slavery or even executed, so a meal of bread and wine followed by a hot bath seemed like a pleasant enough alternative.

“Your companion is just a few rooms away,” a man starts speaking to you as he enters the room, almost as if he were waiting for the handmaiden to leave before addressing you. “If your thoughts still linger on him.”

He’s dressed just like the other soldiers who found you on the dirt road today, only with more adornments fixed onto his wardrobe. The armor on his chest reflects the light of the torch without any blemish, letting you know that he hasn’t done much fighting lately despite the scars on his face and hands. The cloth draped around his shoulder is a deep crimson, bleeding into different shades of red and gold before fading into a light cream around its tips. His charcoal curls remain tucked behind his ears as they cascade down the back of his neck, making you wonder if you had ended up in ancient Greece or ancient Rome; or if maybe you were somewhere else entirely.

“He’ll be safe here tonight,” he starts again, pointing in your direction, “Both of you will be. He’ll be given all the wine, food and comfort he could possibly need.” He removes his sandals by the spot you placed your clothes earlier, noting their unique design before taking the cloth off of his shoulder. “I hope you were offered the same accommodations in my quarters?”

His quarters… right. So he owns this house, and from what you remember of high school history class, most of the people who helped you, too.

You nod as he looks at you, his handsome face coming into full view as the flame on the wall licks at the warm air just above him. It casts a golden hue onto his skin as he takes his armor off with the rest of his clothes, setting everything down in a neat pile next to yours as the definition of his muscles becomes more apparent. He stands up and lets you see him, all of him as a peppering of black curly hair trickles down his trunk between his legs as you do your best not to stare in awe. He’s a wonder to behold, a perfectly sculpted specimen of musculature; truly someone had to have painted a picture or carved a statue of him to commemorate his beauty at some point in history.

“Is the temperature of the water pleasing to you?” He brings you back to the moment and starts walking toward you, his footsteps barely audible as the moisture from the bath coats the brick floor in a clear mist. “I always like it a little hotter than most.”

You try not to stare at his dick as it bounces between his legs with each step he takes down into the bath with you, but the Roman gods had truly blessed this man. Your breath halts as your mind jumps ahead to what it would feel like to have him inside of you, to find out if men from hundreds of years ago were any better at pleasing you than those from your own time period. No, you shouldn’t be thinking about that, about him or your own physical pleasure right now. You should be thinking about how to find Jack and come up with a way to get back home.

“It’s good, it’s great, thank you,” you stutter, watching the water slowly envelop his hips and waist.

“Forgive my manners, you must think me rude.” He points to his chest as he takes his last step into the water, barely covering his nipples as he approaches you. “I’m Orestes, and you are?”

“Maria,” you lie, hoping the name is as ancient and international as you think it is.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He smiles and wades through the water to get closer to you, the ripples from his movements ebbing and flowing against your skin as the heat from his body begins to permeate through it. “Those markings on your body,” he notes the tattoos on your shoulders and chest, tracing the design on your upper arm with his fingertips, “I haven’t seen anything like that before.”

Your body tenses as he follows the black outline of the flower up your arm, sending a tingling sensation into your spine as he spreads the trail of moisture across your chest. He rests his hand on your shoulder where the ink meets your sternum before disappearing entirely. Something about him touching you like this makes you more acutely aware that this is actually happening, that he’s a real person just like you and not just some dream your subconscious whipped up after falling asleep watching reruns of HBO’s Rome.

“Where did you get them?” He asks, scanning the pattern of your artwork.

Your mind starts racing through all the nearby countries that would have been actual places during this era, somewhere he’d actually believe you could be from before opening your mouth.

“Sevilla,” you tell him as his fingers start to massage the taut muscles in the back of your neck. That's a place near here, right? Oh wow, he’s insanely good at that. Oh my God…

“Spain?” He raises an eyebrow as he continues to rub your neck, his full lips pouting into a playful smirk. “That’s a long way from here.”

“Yes, it is.” You keep your speech plain as he leans into you, smoothing his fingers up into your hairline as he reaches for something behind you, all but pulling you into his chest. The smell of red wine and sweat ignites your senses, his axilla nearly suffocating you before he lets go and pulls back with a sponge drenched in soap.

Right. You’re in a bath. Duh.

But wait a minute, wasn’t there a movie about this? The Butterfly Effect? If you keep going along with this, you might not be born or something even crazier could happen? Didn’t Jack warn you about this at one point, too?

“Will you help me wash?” His eyes darken in the amber light of the distant flames, olive cheeks flushing a hint of pink as he awaits your answer.

You point to yourself as if you don’t already know that you’re the only two people in this room. “Me?” You laugh nervously, “You want me to…?” You find it difficult to breathe all the sudden, your previous thoughts of him becoming that much more realistic with each passing second. “Yeah,” you nod, “I can do that.”

Eh, butterfly effect, schmutterfly effect.

You take the sponge from him, squeezing it gently as you press it into his skin. You take your time massaging your way up his forearm and bicep as you feel his opposite hand take your waist, forcing your lungs to inhale and your nipples to harden. You do your best to ignore how good his hand makes you feel, his thumb softly brushing against your belly as you rub deep circles into the muscles of his chest. You keep your eyes on the sponge, watching as the soap drips through your fingers and onto your wrist before splashing cloudy circles into the water below.

You stand on your tiptoes and reach up behind his shoulders to wash the skin beneath his curls, the soapy water cascading down his body and onto your breasts as you grab the sponge with your opposite hand. You pause as you feel his member begin to grow against your navel, his lashes feathering against your cheek as his nose needily nudges you to continue.

You nudge right back, turning your head to the side just enough to align your lips with his before he kisses you. Soft, tender lips press into yours as he glides his hand to the small of your back, forcing you to let go of the sponge as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He guides you to the edge of the bath, leisurely walking you backwards until your shoulder blades collide with the border as he parts your lips with his tongue. That scent of red wine is now a full bodied flavor as it excites your taste buds, notes of grapes and pomegranate nearly intoxicating you more than the small glass you drank before. He moans into you, consuming every inch of your mouth with unbridled ferocity as the flavor increases, cupping your face in his hand.

You comb your fingers through his hair in return, breathing into him as your chest rises and falls in time with his, hearts beating in the same rapid rhythm as you both tremble in delicious anticipation. You gasp as he forgoes the grip on your face to claim purchase on both of your thighs, the buoyancy of the bath aiding in lifting you up high enough to straddle his waist.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, hungrily taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

“You too,” you mutter, licking his mouth as he pulls your lip taut.

You kiss him again as he softens his bite, groaning as his dick throbs beneath your junction, teasing you to the brink of frustration. The warm water surrounding you conceals just how wet and ready you are for him to enter as you wrap your legs around his hips, crisscrossing them behind his ass. You feel him thrust gently between your folds as he continues to kiss you, palms squeezing your cheeks until he finally angles his hips just right.

A stifled gasp leaves your lips as he pushes inside you, forcing your head to fall back in ecstasy as he fills you up inch by ancient Roman inch. He pulls you into him, stretching you out with his impressive girth until he bottoms out, hips flush with the underside of your thighs. He pulls back and pushes in again, grinding into you as the water surrounding you splashes against the edge of the pool like the Mediterranean at high tide.

Cradling your head as he increases his pace, he shields you from the impact of his desire as he kisses down your neck and jawline. He hums into your skin, tasting every part of you that he possibly can as he slowly pulses wave after blissful wave into your core. He moves as if he’s known you your entire life, every delightful spot inside and out of you as he brings you close to the edge with utter delectation.

Your moans echo off the vast brick walls of the building, disappearing into the night sky through the absent roof of the room he continues to please you in. You tug on his curls as he brings you closer, your body keening into him as his pelvis pushes against your clit from an angle he’d never be able to hit on land. You close your eyes as the waves crash around you, the warmth of your pleasure erupting through your torso into your extremities in a series of shakes and spasms as you cry out one last time.

“Orestes!” His name is but a silent scream in your throat as your toes curl in sheer delight. Droplets of water splash onto your face as he finishes his exertion with a hushed moan, biting into your clavicle as he coats your inner walls with his timeless orgasm. He quivers just as erratically as you, letting you pull him in so close, the two of you merely merge into one being under the silent audience of stars.

He smooths your hair back away from your face as he remains inside you, kissing your cheeks and forehead with a smile as he catches his breath. “I bet you’re exhausted from your travels,” he croons, kissing your lips again.

“A little,” you admit, not wanting to leave this moment, despite having broken the space-time continuum.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

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Tags: @johnny-simpfinger @letsby @stormkobra-5 @cozykali @oscarseyebrow

#Oscar Isaac #Orestes #Agora #Orestes x reader #Orestes Smut #oscar isaac fanfiction

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