#anatomy of a fall vincent

[callme-darling]

i can’t believe i have a crush on a 42 year old french man

#it’s actually becoming a problem atp #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall vincent #actor #neither heaven nor earth #petit paysan #perdrix #the bare necessity #french cinema

[sebsbarnes]

reassured || vincent renzi

vincent renzi x reader

summary: the presence of an old flame causes vincent to reassure you

warnings: none!

word count: 370+

a/n: okay idk if any of my followers like anatomy of a fall but swann as vincent renzi... game Over. so really this is for me bc idk if anyone will read this and if you do, enjoy! there's like two ppl who write for him and i have the urge to add to it

masterlist ; other vincent work

"do you still love her?"

it was snowing, however, your tone felt colder. the question had been chewing away at you for the last month. now, standing outside with your arms wrapped around you to stop shivering from the cold, and perhaps the anxiety, the question floated out of your mouth much like the smoke from a cigarette.

the immediate lack of response made the air thick. it felt uncomfortable, something you had never felt before when with vincent. you swallowed harshly at the sensation of your throat closing in. you glanced at him, watching as his cheeks hollowed out and his lips pursed around his cigarette.

"i loved her," he said simply, finally looking towards you.

"loved or love?" you countered.

his eyes slowly moved down your frame. your body language was closed off and he noticed how you gnawed at your lip. vincent placed a gentle hand on your elbow to offer some reassurance and to ease the stiffness in your bones.

"i loved her, yes. will i always have love for her? yes," vincent spoke in a hushed tone, as if the snow flurries were eavesdropping on the conversation.

the two of you knew how each other felt but it was unspoken. you'd be able to read between the lines at the questions you would ask the other about previous lovers but neither of you dared to be direct. often, you'd remind the other by gestures or subtle touches much like the way vincent has a hand rested on your arm. at work, after particularly long days of the two of you mulling over new cases, you would stand behind his seated figure and wrap your arms around his shoulder, your head finding home at the base of his neck. he would lean his head onto yours and close his eyes, enjoying the moment of bliss.

"vincent!" a familiar voice called out.

you both glanced towards the house, sandra was standing on the stairs waving an arm. vincent looked to you, your lips pulled into a tight line. he tsked slightly at the sight. he lifted his other hand that his cigarette dangled from and placed it between your lips, his thumb caressing your bottom lip.

"you're mine, my love."

#anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi x you #vincent renzi fic #anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall vincent #sebsbarnes

[wackapedia]

Remnant

Vincent Renzi x reader Vincent finds a woman living in Miss Voyter's former chalet and finds a new outlet for his feelings. Wordcount: 1,670 Warnings: Attempt at comedy, one swear word, Anatomy Of A Fall spoilers, ghosts for comedic effect

Vincent sighs and lights a cigarette just as the sun sets behind the mountain. He is sitting in the driver seat of his car, which is parked outside the chalet. It's been empty for months, since Sandra-

Miss Voyter, he corrects himself.

 Since Miss Voyter sold the cabin and is turned into some sort of B&B thing just as Samuel intended, she would say.

Miss Voyter and her son moved back to Germany after the case, Vincent remembers. He then wonders why he's parked outside their former chalet.

As of late, he finds himself driving up the uphill road to the cabin, maybe to think or to reminisce. Maybe he's trying to heal from a wound he would never acknowledge.

The lawyer, who is now gaining popularity since that widely-broadcast case, stubs out his cigarette and starts the car. What am I doing here? He mumbles to himself. He tosses the cigarette out the window and moves to start the engine. Someone suddenly shows up by the side of his car.

"Hey, did you just come here to throw your shit? Pick it up!" A woman yells, standing a few paces from his car. Vincent feels embarrassed. He decides to suck it up and apologize.

"Je suis desole, madamoiselle... " He steps out of the car and picks up his rubbish. He then looks up at the woman, who seemed a bit stunned.

He stuffs the stubbed-out cigarette in his pocket and smiles apologetically at the woman. He feels his face heat up.

"I've seen you come here a few times; are you following me?" The woman stumbles through her broken French.

"Oh, no... I'm just..." Vincent doesn't know what to say. "I'm a lawyer." He attempts, as if it explains anything.

"Am I in trouble?" She replies. Vincent tries to take advantage.

"Depends. How long have you lived here?"

"Three weeks. Why?"

"Nothing, Make sure to lock your doors at night." 

Vincent tries to escape from the situation he's found himself in. He begins to open his car door and longs to just drive back to the city.

"What? Wait! What do you mean? Is that some sort of threat?" She takes two steps closer to him. 

"Threat? No! What do you mean?" Vincent stops. He looks at her, surprised to see her face clearer now that he's up close.

"They say this house is haunted... Someone died here. Is that true?" She whispers, almost afraid to mention it out loud. At this, Vincent chuckles.

"That's just silly." He answers her as he settles himself in the driver's seat.

"Wow, and you think standing outside someone else's house isn't as dumb? You could be a pervert for all I know!" She stands next to his car door, addressing him through the window.

Vincent decides he's tired of defending himself like he's in court. Instead of answering, he hands her his business card.

"You're a lawyer?!" She asks after taking the card in her hands. Vincent offers her a kind smile before starting the car and driving off.

------------

That night, she sits alone in the bedroom of the rented cabin, playing with the lawyer's business card. She still wonders why she felt odd around Mr. Vincent Renzi.

"That guy's probably some sort of stalker..." She jokes to herself, tossing the business card next to her phone as she opens her laptop and types his name on the search bar. Good news! The name matches the face. Bad news: He is featured in a couple of news articles.

She browses through them and reads about the success of his recent case, which happens to be quite popular. It's not bad news after all. Mr. Renzi was defending a woman who was suspected of murdering her husband. She was ruled out because the death was proven to be a suicide.

She goes deep into the research rabbit hole after staring at a couple of photos of the said lawyer taken from press release interviews. She then discovers that the scene of the crime was the house she was staying in at the present. She then organizes her thoughts after reading through several articles.

1. Mr. Renzi is indeed a lawyer. 2. He is quite handsome. 3. He had reason to come by the house. 4. Someone had died here, and therefore; 5. The house is haunted.

She gasps, and her skin erupts in goosebumps. She looks around the dark room and feels the darkness staring back. Was it just her imagination? No, there's a cold wind enveloping the room. The windows are closed. There's some sort of noise in the attic. Footfalls? Walking down the stairs? Outside her room? She panics and picks up her phone and the card next to it before running down the stairs.

Who to call? The cops? What if they think you're insane? The owner of the house? What's he going to do—ward off the vengeful spirit who's about to kill you? 

She looks at her phone and pulls up the phone app to call the only person who can help her.

"Hello? Vincent?" Her voice trembles. She was outside the house, trembling, both because of the cold and the fear of what could possibly be inside the house.

"Oui, c'est moi; comment puis-je vous aider?" He answers in his charming French accent. She briefly wonders what he just said.

She quickly told him her name, although she doubted he would recognize her.

"Its me, the one from the cabin? I think there's someone in the house!"

-----

Vincent stays with her on the phone throughout the whole fifteen-minute drive. She seems to have calmed down a little, shivering mostly from the cold and less from fear. The moment he arrives, he immediately spots her outside the chalet. As the car stops, she runs toward him.

"What happened?" He catches her like its the most natural thing. 

"Someone died here, right?" She looks up to him and positions him between her and the house.

Vincent sighs. "Is this about the haunted thing again?"

"You never answered me! I fact-checked your business card, and everything made sense!" 

Vincent rests his forehead on his palm. He is still wearing his green home slippers, their bright color catching his eyes. 

He tries to catch his breath after his mini-heart attack, expecting her to be in danger. 

So this place is actually haunted, and she begins to feel a little sorry for him. She looks up at the house, noticing she failed to turn on the lights. Is there a figure in the attic window? Her mind might be playing tricks on her, but she is genuinely scared. She moves closer to the lawyer who is standing there, watching her.

"What?" Vincent pretends to be annoyed with her.

"Can you help me inspect the house?"

"I'm a lawyer, not a cop."

"You were observing the house this morning..." She mumbles.

Vincent sighs. He can't seem to say no to this woman.

-----------

"There. Happy now?" Vincent faces her with his hands on his hips. All the lights in the house are on, and Vincent checks the attic, making sure there are no "vengeful spirits" there to hurt her. She seems to be satisfied.

"Okay.... Thank you..." She mumbles sleepily in the living room. Vincent can't help but smile at how she looks right now.

The lawyer hesitates to leave her there, sleeping in the living room with all the lights on.

"Go on now; get to bed." He tells him, sounding like he's scolding a toddler.

"Okay. Goodnight." She walks up the stairs slowly. She now feels very comfortable around him, which is a wonder since she scolded him just this morning.

Vincent smiles to himself as he drives home.

--------

The minute Vincent wakes up the next day, he checks his phone for any texts from the woman in the chalet. He got her name when she called him last night and has been repeating it in his head since. Unfortunately for him, there were no calls or texts from her. He watches his phone closely in case she reaches out, but the only messages on his phone are text ads and messages concerning work.

As that Sunday progresses without her reaching out, the grumpier Vincent becomes. 

So he heads out there.

----------

She had just come back from town, carrying a basket full of fresh fruit and produce. As she steps up and comes into view of the house,. He is surprised to see another car parked and a certain lawyer standing by the stairs.

"Where were you?" He tries to sound nonchalant.

She raises her basket, showing the obvious.

Vincent seems out of words. She is about to ask, 'Why are you even here?' and he would have no answer. Vincent looks down hard, trying to find the answer on the gravel. Ah, there it is.

"You deserve to know the truth." The lawyer blurts out suddenly, just as she was about to ask something.

"About what?"

"The man who died? He died right here," Vincent bluntly says, pointing to the spot next to them. "So, yes. This place is very haunted." 

She gasps in surprise. She wasn't expecting him to believe her bullshit excuse to see him again that night, right? You guess he's one of those superstitious small-town folks.

Vincent waits for her reaction. She hasn't reacted the way he hoped. He expected her to be shocked and cling to him, but no, she just stands there and stares at the gravel. 

"Hey, did you hear what I just said? This place is hau-"

"Do you want to grab coffee sometime?" She decides to just go straight to the deal, a slight smirk playing on one side of her face. Now it's Vincent who takes a breath of surprise.

"Um... Sure?" Vincent finds himself replying. He can't believe this turned out well for him when he literally had no roadmap for what he was trying to do.

"Okay. Let me just put these inside the house, and we can head to town together?"

The lawyer nods. She smiles and comes out of the house a while later and walks with him to town.

part 2?

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi x reader #anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #swann arlaud #i just need to get this out of my system lmao #anatomy of a fall vincent

[rxgirlie]

The Verdict- Chapter One

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

Warnings: None (as of now)

A/N: I have eleven chapters of this written so far but a slew of changes to make and things to add. In order to not burn myself out, I won’t be posting this on any sort of schedule. None of this has been beta’d and I’m posting in the midst of a covid fever dream so if there’s any mistakes, simply ignore them.

The morning fog hung low over Paris, a delicate shroud that veiled the city in mystery and whispered of stories untold. Among the ancient streets and grand boulevards, a tale was about to unfold—one that would intertwine the lives of two distinctly different souls.

In the heart of the city, Vincent Renzi stood before the towering edifice of the Palais de Justice. His silhouette, a solitary figure against the sprawling architecture, was a testament to the weight he carried. At forty, Vincent had the kind of presence that commanded attention—not just for his refined appearance, but for the intensity that simmered beneath his calm exterior. Today, that intensity was sharper, fueled by the stakes of the case that awaited him inside.

Vincent was not merely a lawyer; he was a defender of justice, a role he embraced with unwavering dedication. The case he was about to undertake was personal, representing his friend Sandra, who had been caught in a nightmare she claimed was a fabrication. Accused of a crime as sensational as it was tragic—pushing her husband out of a window—Sandra's innocence was a truth Vincent held unshakeable.

As he made his way through the corridors of justice, Vincent's thoughts were on the battle ahead. The case was complex, tangled in a web of evidence and emotion, and it demanded not just legal expertise but a deep understanding of human nature. It was a challenge Vincent was ready to face, driven by a conviction that the law, in its purest form, was about protecting the innocent and uncovering the truth.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, an ambitious American lawyer was preparing for a journey that would change the course of her career. With a keen interest in international law and a hunger for experience beyond the confines of American courtrooms, she viewed the opportunity to shadow a French lawyer as a doorway to a new world. Little did she know, her path would lead her to Vincent Renzi, and together, they would embark on a journey that would blur the lines between professional collaboration and personal connection.

Paris awaited her with its charm and challenges, a city ripe with history and alive with the promise of adventure. As she packed her bags, she imagined the streets she would walk, the cases she would explore, and the people she would meet. Among those imagined faces was Vincent's, a partner in law she had yet to meet but whose reputation had preceded him.

The stage was set, the players drawn to their marks by fate and ambition. As the American lawyer's plane touched down on French soil, the first chapter of their story began to write itself, against the backdrop of Paris and the looming majesty of the French Alps. Little did they know, their encounter would be a confluence of minds and hearts, a trial of their beliefs and convictions, and a testament to the unexpected paths life can take.

____________________________________________

The chambers of Vincent Renzi were a world apart from the skyscrapers and modern glass facades that the American lawyer, Leah Bardin, was accustomed to. Nestled in a historic building whose stones whispered tales of centuries past, the office was a reflection of Paris itself—timeless, elegant, and steeped in stories waiting to be told.

Leah stepped inside, her senses immediately enveloped by the rich aroma of aged books and the subtle hint of espresso—a stark contrast to the sterile bustle of her New York firm. She was greeted by walls lined with volumes of legal tomes, certificates of commendation, and an array of photographs capturing moments of triumph and camaraderie.

At the heart of this sanctuary stood Vincent, his back to the door, engrossed in a mountain of case files that sprawled across his desk. The morning light streamed through the window, casting him in a silhouette that accentuated the deliberation in his posture.

Hearing the soft click of the door, Vincent turned, his gaze meeting Leah’s for the first time. In that moment, an unspoken assessment passed between them—a lawyer's instinctive evaluation of an opponent, colleague, and unknown entity all at once.

"Mademoiselle Bardin, I presume?" Vincent's voice broke the silence, his English tinged with the melodious accent of his homeland.

Leah extended her hand, the firmness of her grip belying the flutter of anticipation she felt. "Leah Bardin. It's an honor to meet you, Monsieur Renzi."

Vincent's study of Leah was brief but thorough. Despite his initial reservations about allowing an American lawyer to shadow him, he couldn't deny the determination that shone in her eyes. It was a look he recognized—a reflection of his own passion for the law.

"Please, call me Vincent. 'Monsieur Renzi' makes me feel like one of those ancient tomes on the shelf," he said, a hint of humor softening his features. "I understand you're here to learn about international law, but I must warn you, the case we're embarking on is not for the faint of heart."

Leah’s response was immediate, her resolve clear. "I didn't come all this way for an easy lesson. I'm here to learn, to contribute in any way I can."

Vincent regarded her for a moment longer, then nodded, the initial barrier of formality giving way to a burgeoning respect. "Very well. Let's get to work."

As they delved into the details of Sandra's case, Vincent was surprised by Leah’s insightful questions and her quick grasp of the complexities involved. Leah, in turn, was captivated by Vincent's depth of knowledge and his passionate advocacy for his friend.

Their first meeting, initially marked by caution, evolved into a dynamic exchange of ideas and theories. It was clear that despite their different backgrounds, they shared a common dedication to justice. As the day wore on, the foundation of an unexpected alliance was laid, their mutual respect a testament to the potential of their collaboration.

As Leah left Vincent's office that evening, the streets of Paris bathed in the golden hue of sunset, she felt an exhilarating sense of purpose. And for Vincent, watching her silhouette disappear into the maze of the city, there was an acknowledgment, however grudging, that Leah Bardin might just be the ally he needed in the battle ahead.

#vincent renzi fanfiction #vincent renzi x original female character #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi fic #the verdict #hot lawyer save me

[nuooage]

#anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #swann arlaud #vincent renzi #sandra hüller #sandra voyter

[pedro-pascal]

SWANN ARLAUD + LETTERBOXD REVIEWS Anatomy of a Fall (2023)

#anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #swann arlaud #vincent renzi #filmedit #flawlessgentlemen #dilfgifs #dilfsource #* #me: this man better not awake something in me #my brain giggling: oh baby girl you are in for a ride #i am SO mad at myself. i'm so predicable sometimes #the review in french says: whoever decided to put swann arlaud in a turtleneck for 2h30 deserves an award by itself

[jacketinthebox]

deleted scenes from anatomy of a fall (dir. 2023) as you can see I’m trying to stay normal.

#anatomy of a fall #Sandra Voyter #sandra hüller #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #roman empire #im so unwell #it’s 3am #lives were changed

[weakling-grace]

#sobbing snarling chewing sheet metal #swann arlaud #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall #maitre vincent renzi

[coryosbaby]

Sour Switchblade … Priest! Vincent Renzi x fem! Reader

Synopsis: She tempts him, just like she did before.

Content Warning . 18, MDNI Age Gap, blasphemy, religious themes & references, a plot with no context, demonic reader? Mutual masturbation, degradation, dom! Vincent

Author’s Notes: what I mean when I say that I need him biblically.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

It starts with the simple art of a short dress and a prayer.

Vincent’s eyes roam to her from across the church pew, blue orbs peeking out through a see of browns, greens, and other blues. His hand adjusts his priests collar as she moves towards the center of the room. Another priest settles a wafer into her mouth, which she takes with a soft tongue. Vincent’s eyes can’t help but wonder down her body after that, as she takes a sip of communion wine.

Her dress, a lacey white thing with puff sleeves, adorned with white tights and thigh high stockings, will surely be the talk of the church going women later. Especially with the way her breasts seem to spill out of the fabric, the red bra that is already showing through threatening to make itself fully known.

Vincent almost can’t breathe.

He knows it’s wrong to look at her like this. He’s a priest, and on top of that, she’s significantly younger— not underage, obviously. Maybe in her early twenties or so. But it still makes the man confess his sins almost every night.

And even with how taboo his stares are, she seem to look at him right back, everytime, exactly the same. Her lashes seem to flutter, her eyes seem to have a glint to them whenever he nervously mumbles a prayer or greeting to her. Even now, as she takes a sip of the red wine, her eyes meet his.

He smiles. She smiles back. The communion is over.

And now, the confession begins.

Vincent sits in the compartment a mere hour later, waiting for her to show up. She always seems to have something to confess when he’s the one in charge and it’s his last shift. Vincent twirls the cross necklace around his neck in anticipation.

It’s a few seconds before he hears the cluttering of the confessional door. Her scent evades his nostrils— sweet vanilla, chocolate, and something earthy underneath. Something that makes Vincent’s eyes want to roll to the back of his head.

“I’m here to confess.”

Her voice is a soft lilt, something tinted with mischief. She’s trouble.

“And what would you like to confess, my child?” Vincent asks. He can hardly see through the film between the two of them, but he sees a flash of white, then red.

“I’ve been bad,” she replies. And then, in almost a whine, “I’ve sinned, father.”

His lips part. His cock kicks underneath his robe, but he’ll have to wait for that— wait for later, when he’s alone in his chambers and can touch his cock freely, in secrecy. Priests are supposed to sustain abstinence— Vincent is no virgin, but since his training and initiation as a priest he hasn’t had sex since. Masturbation is forbidden, but it isn’t something he can control in himself. It plagues him every day.

It’s a lot harder for him than the others, he thinks, to contain his urges when he’s already felt the warmth of a woman’s touch. But he’ll try this time. He won’t make another mistake. By God, he won’t.

“What have you done?”

“I’ve been…” she pauses, sighing, and he hears the rustling of fabric. He wonders what she’s doing on the other side of that barrier. “I’ve been having these… dreams, father. Dreams where…”

Vincent clenches his jaw, his palm gripping his cock through his confines. By God, he’s a sick, perverted man.

“We all have dreams,” Vincent says gently. “Dreams that may help us along our path. What have you dreamt about, child?”

He’s shaky as he says the last line, hopes of her lying to him furrowing in his chest. Hopes of her leaving it alone, this entire thing. This entire game.

God does not come through for him. Perhaps he doesn’t want to, or perhaps he can’t. Perhaps she is the one to stop him.

“I’ve dreamt of you, Father Renzi.”

Vincent’s head tilts back, a small gasp leaving his throat. His hips buck against his hand. No no no no..

“What do these dreams entail?” He asks, breathless. He can hear the amused tone in her voice.

“You start out by giving me communion,” she explains. “You hold the wafer out so I can put it into my mouth, but instead it’s your tongue that lands against mine.”

Vincent’s eyes clench shut. His hand moves against its own accord. God help him. She continues with a drawn out, airy lilt.

“You touch me in a special place. It feels so good that I cry out your name like a praise. It makes me tingle all over, makes me lose all control,” and then, with a pause as she hears Vincent’s robes lifting, “Do you have dreams like that, Father?”

His cock is straining against his dress pants when the robe’s hem is pulled to the top of his thighs.

“I do,” he admits, popping the button on his pants. He’s hypnotized, her smell and the image of her body in his mind making him lose it. “I have them often, little one.”

And it’s true. He dreams of her painted in red and white, dreams of her, a she demon, on top of his body, writhing. Him, hands curling against her skin, under her spell. She is his temptation, and Vincent is sure that she will be his destruction.

She’s just as desperate as him now. He can tell because she lets out a sweet, sultry whine, a wet sound reverberating throughout the small compartment.

“Vincent,” she lets out, keening. He doesn’t remember if he told her his first name, but he has a feeling she figured it out either way. He groans, thankful that the church is nearly empty now since the service had just ended.

“espèce de petite prostituée. What would your parents think?” You little harlot.

“Are you touching yourself?” she asks, ignoring him. And then, after a wet sound and a cry, “I’m.. I’m touching myself too, Vince. I’m so wet.”

His hand slips past the waistband of his pants and he dips it inside. Wet, warm flesh and pleasure behind his eyelids emerges as he strokes himself up and down and catches a whiff of her natural scent.

“Fuck,” he grunts, arousal pooling in his lower abdomen. “Cheríe, what are you doing to me?” Sweetheart.

She lets out a tiny giggle, scissoring her fingers inside herself as she hears the man beside her fall apart. Vincent is her favorite— he gives her the most fun she’s ever had.

“My fingers are inside, Father,” she whimpers. “Fuck, I’m so warm.”

Vincent’s cock, red and tip dripping pearls of sweet arousal, slaps against his stomach when he finally gathers the nerve to pull his pants and underwear down past his thighs. He spits into his palm before stroking himself again.

“You are unholy,” Vincent states, though his mouth falls open when he hears the increasing sound of her wetness. “Fucking yourself like this, like a dirty whore… your cunt is drenched, isn’t it, chérie?” Sweetheart.

She grasps the side of the confessional, heat spreading up her neck and down to her toes. None of them have ever made her feel like this.

“Yes,” she says, rubbing the bundle of nerves in between her cunt lips. She’s close. “Father… sir. I want your cock.”

Visions come to Vincent’s mind, plagued thoughts of her kneeling down and taking him into her mouth, of him choking all words out of her. His cock thrusting into her roughly, stretching out her tiny hole and bringing her to her peak over and over. That would be her punishment for teasing him, for being such a godless creature. He would ruin her, just as she’s ruined him.

“You want it, yes? You want me to stretch your little cunt and leave your legs shaking,” he chuckles, almost darkly. She brings out the worst in him. “You want my seed dripping down your thighs, putain de salope.” You fucking slut.

She cries out, legs spreading further as she nears closer and closer to her peak. Vincent continues to speak, almost as close as she is.

“Your cunt in my mouth. Licking you, tasting you..” and then, with a delicious whisper, “Chérie, how do you taste?” Sweetheart.

That last sentence has the girl seizing up, her pussy spasming as her orgasm overtakes her. Sweet arousal gushes around her fingers, thighs, and underneath the seat below her. Her eyes roll back and she cries, “Vincent!” like a prayer.

This has the man on the other side whining, his teeth biting into his wrist as he spills over his fist with a loud grunt. He fucks himself through his orgasm, hearing her precious sounds overcoming him like a heavenly sin.

When the man comes down, his spend is drying on his hand and pants.

He sighs, satisfied and spent. He’ll have to confess this later, won’t he?

Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t.

Her voice rings out, smooth and teasing.

“Until next time, Father Renzi.”

He hears the open and closing of the confessional door, and out she goes like Lilith with her wings.

:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy

#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆ #Vincent renzi #Vincent renzi x reader #Vincent renzi x fem! reader #Swann arlaud #Swann Arlaud x reader #Vincent renzi smut #Vincent renzi oneshot #Vincent renzi fanfic #priest! Vincent renzi #dom! Vincent renzi #Vincent anatomy of a fall #Vincent Renzi anatomy of a fall #anatomy of a fall #anatomy of a fall fanfic #Swann Arlaud fanfic #Vincent Renzi Drabble #Vincent renzi blurb

[finsterwalds]

Anatomie d’une chute doodles because why not?

#anatomie d’une chute #anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #sandra voyter #french stuff #even tho the movie got so popular it’s not really a good tag to use for that but #why not #they’re bi4bi it’s canon #my art #fanart

[arlaudswann]

VINCENT RENZI for @jeongincel ♡

#anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall #swann arlaud #swannarlaudedit #vincent renzi #filmedit #userbbelcher #* #IF HE LETS ME TAG HIMMMM ILL TAG HIMMM >:3 #if not....THEN THE CAPTION STAYS HJFBGDHJB #I TRIED MY BEST!!!! PLEEEK #he let me tag him HEHSSHSHEK

[callme-darling]

soft, early morning sex with vincent

or; you’re awake before vincent for once and slowly wake him up in the way you know best

word count: 1.7k

warnings: fem reader, Horny, sleepy sex, grinding, reader wakes vincent up for sex, no prep, p-in-v, some fingering, it’s pretty soft stuff ngl

a/n: this was inspired by a dream i had and forever altered my brain chemistry

your eyes were still heavy with sleep, but your heart pounded steadily in your chest, your breath tense as if you had just run a short way. fleeting details of your waking dream still obscured the forefront recesses of your mind; the intimacy, the undeniable warmth and tenderness. you lay on your side, back towards the body occupying the other side of the bed. you shift carefully, mindful not to disturb the man still snoring softly beside you—the very man who, in your dreams, touched you with such devotion he was the reason you awoke nearly gasping for breath.

vincent looked peaceful, sleep one of the few stress-free experiences in his busy life. you smile softly to yourself, a soft hand brushing a strand of silver hair from where it had fallen over his brow. your gaze lingers over his features, the lines of his forehead less visible under the tranquility of sleep.

your heart, though calmer now, was still beating quickly in your ribcage, and the heat in your cheeks was becoming harder to ignore. your initial thought was to take a quick, cold shower. but the longer you looked at your lover, the more fierce these feelings grew, and the harder it became to deny them.

it was rare for you to wake before vincent, and even rarer for him to remain asleep after you stir awake. which, in your sleepy and lustful mind, called for the perfect wakeup plan.

it began with you placing warm, featherlike kisses on his cheek, the skin near his eye twitching minutely under the feeling. your lips diligently made their way from his face to the sensitive skin of his neck as your hands brushed over his shirt. the material bunched just above his navel, his skin soft as your fingers traced the faint ridges of his ribs.

then came the subdued moan from him. you stop your ministrations for a moment, bringing your face above his to study his rhythmic breathing. still asleep. your eyes flick back down to his neck, to where the collar of his tshirt exposed the top of his chest. with quiet determination, you sat up softly, allowing the duvet to fall from your shoulders.

the heat in your core was becoming near unbearable, and you were growing desperate to feel the hands of your dream on you in this life.

pushing the duvet down to his thighs, you were quick to replace the initial morning chill with your own warmth, hips ghosting over his until you gently rock them against his waist, stifling a faint moan with your lips pressed to the side of his throat. your hands were against his chest now, pushing his shirt up even further to expose his pale skin. your nails traced along his abdomen as your hips continued to slowly rock over his.

warm breath fanned across his neck with each whiny pant you let out, your shaky moans increasing in volume as you felt his half hard cock twitch under you, his hips shuddering to meet yours.

you bring your right hand to the side of his head to stabilize yourself. your eyes half lidded, you watched his face contort as his eyes fluttered gently, his teeth biting softly unto the plush of his bottom lip. the sight alone enough to have you leaning in to brush your lips over his, soft kisses quickly developing into a voyeuristic display of needy lips and even needier moans as vincent became more awake and aware of the current state of his darling girlfriend’s desperation.

his voice was thick with sleep, his accent barely intelligible, “good morning to you too, love- oh-“

you nearly whimper as you watch his eyes just barely roll back with a firm brush of your hips. his palms were warm against you as he gripped your waist, his fingers tickling the skin under your shirt.

“sorry..” you mumble, voice airy, “just needed you.” though, the way your hips moved over his seemed anything but remorseful.

the back of his head pressed into the pillow as his grip on your hips tightened, seemingly reigning in some control over your ministrations. you leaned down to trail wet kisses down his throat to his chest. he swallowed thickly, “fuck- …you look so good baby.”

your voice was tense, your panties becoming painfully uncomfortable, “please, please, can you fuck me?” you knew you sounded pitiful, but the ache in your core demanded some sort of relief.

a warm hand on your throat brought your mouth down to his, your lips soft and plaint as his tongue brushed against yours, drawing out a wanton moan from you. “how could i deny you, darling.”

you felt his hand dip under the waistband of your panties, groaning as his fingers explore just how wet you were able to make yourself. “what got you so worked up, hm?” you couldn’t tell if there was a teasing bite to his words, but the small smile on his face told you it was at least partial genuine curiosity.

you let yourself grind into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut as soft, wet clicks filled the room. your breath trembled, your hands splayed on his abdomen to keep you upright, “h-had a dream.. ‘bout you.”

his fingers worked expertly toying with your puffy clit as his sleepy eyes glimmered with want. “oh? about me… and what was i doing in this dream?”

“vincent, please- please i need you-“

“and you’ll have me, dear. but i want to know more about your dream first.” he chuckled softly, “there’s no rush today, let’s enjoy this.”

when you didn’t answer for a few moments, vincent merely groaned. he pulled his hand away from your core and pushed you onto your back. the mattress bounced softly under your transferred weight, with him now kneeling over you.

“tell me, what was i doing in this dream of yours to get you so riled up?” he spoke quietly, his blue eyes fixed on yours. his hand pushed his hair away from his face before ghosting over your stomach as he waited for an answer.

you sucked in a silent breath. “you were touching me, telling me how you loved me..”

“and..?”

oh, you hated how your core clenched at his smile, the grin bordering on teasing. his other hand came to brush as strand of your hair from your cheek as he leaned in closer.

“i know it wasn’t real, but it felt so good-“ you rambled with a hushed whisper, “fuck… and then you looked so good when i woke up..”

at that, he smiled down at you, planting a kiss on your temple, “who knew you could be made so needy from a simple dream.”

in keeping with his promise, vincent began to slide your panties down your thighs, a string of your translucent slick snapping against the soft skin of your thighs as he pulled the material away. you felt your cheeks grow warmer at the sight of your nearly soaked-through panties being discarded on the floor, eyes searching for vincent’s only to find his fixed on your weeping pussy.

“shit, you’re s’fucking wet..” his voice was low, and you caught how his dick twitched, hard in his pants.

you felt like you could pass out if he didn’t touch you. your head fell back, eyes big and pleading up at him. “please, i’m ready. don’t need prep—please-“

vincent hesitated a moment, gentle eyes peering into you. “…you sure?”

“yes, yes please.” you nod enthusiastically. “i need to feel you.”

he still seemed to have his reservations, but hearing you beg so readily for him had him groaning under his breath. and who was he to deny you, his pretty girl?

you could barely contain your excitement as he undid the drawstring of his sweatpants, pushing the waistband down far enough to have his cock slap against his lower stomach. your eyes were fixated as his hand stroked it, the tip leaking a bead of precum down the shaft, blushed a pretty pink.

a finger under your chin pulled your gaze back up to his face where a playful smirk had your cheeks flushed. “tell me if it’s too much.” even in such intimate moments, vincent never failed to put you first, and it made your heart race even more.

when you finally felt his tip line up with your entrance, you felt yourself tense up in anticipation. his lips were warm on your neck, “relax ma cherie… yes..” he groaned as he began to slowly sink into your heat, “just like that, fuck-“

your head fell back, eyes rolling as a breathless whine tumbled from your lips. it felt good, so fucking good. the way he was stretching you out on his long cock could make you lose your mind. you turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering as he shallowly thrusted into you.

“so tight, love, so fuckin’ tight..” he cursed under his breath, voice thick with lust.

you couldn’t respond, not with the way your needy pussy was finally being used like you needed. your hands found vincent’s shoulders, nails digging pretty crescents into his skin as he picked up his pace, fucking into you as your cunt squelched loudly with each thrust.

“you’re so pretty like this, so pretty and all for me.”

your knees were on either side of his hips, feet dangling in the air as you felt your mind go blank, a stream of whiny moans punctuated with every full thrust into your core.

you were so worked up and so close to the release you needed, and vincent’s skilled fingers playing with your clit again was the final push. your mouth fell open, eyes screwed shut as you felt yourself come hard around his cock.

“that’s it, fuck, you feel so good-“ your pussy clenched around his dick like a vice, his head falling to your shoulder as he came inside you, panting as his dick still throbbed in your core.

when you both finally regained your composure, you bring yourself to look at him only to find him wearing a lovesick grin on his face. he leans down, planting a sweet kiss to your lips before whispering, “good morning, my love.”

#♱₊˚✧ filth . #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall vincent

[sebsbarnes]

enticed || vincent renzi

vincent renzi x reader

summary: vincent can't help but struggle through work with you as the prosecutor

warnings: none

word count: 645

other vincent work ; masterlist

god, he fucking hated the way you sauntered down the hall. the sound of your heels clicking against the tile floor like some piece of music. the distant sound of your voice taunting him in a way you weren't even aware of. the perfume you wear somehow became the air in the hallway, it was floral with a hint of spice, and vincent knew it would be on his clothes.

court was out of session for the day which vincent was grateful for but also a part of him wanted to be back in the courtroom. something about watching you work was intoxicating. the way you would purse your lips, eyebrows pulled together, listening to the defendant speak. vincent would pace back and forth on the floor pausing to stop in front of you to emphasize a point. he was silly to think you give him any other look than that smug face you'd pull, eyes slightly narrowed, the corner of your lip turned toward the ceiling.

"maître renzi," you'd hum, the consonants and vowels have been spoken together many times but the way in which they floated off your tongue was a sound vincent had never heard before. as if his own name and title were foreign.

you would stand before him, only the wooden barrier blocking him from you. you spoke to the room and the judge arguing as the prosecution. the confidence you had was mesmerizing and vincent would watch as you stood mere inches from him and take in the way you stood tall, shoulders back, hand resting on the railing gesturing every so often. he found that his hand ached and his fingers longed to outstretch towards you, and just as his middle finger twitched up you would look down at him with a pleased smile and walk back to your seat saying, "maître? what do you have to say?"

truthfully, vincent had no fucking clue what to say. he was too busy watching you to even compute the words you had just spoken previously. nonetheless, he'd rise from his seat, push open the wooden gate, and approach the person he is supposed to be defending with his life. vincent would find some roundabout way to address whatever you may have talked about but he couldn't help notice the raised brow on your forehead as your eyes followed his pacing figure. he was caught, you weren't naive to the way you affected him. with each new case, you'd always hoped he would be on the opposing side.

"ah maître vincent," your voice rang out as he entered the room where you currently were gathering your belongings.

"please, it is just vincent. we've known each other long enough now, right?" vincent retorted, fixing the sleeves on his button-down.

you shrugged your bag onto your shoulder, "just showing my respect to someone who's been in the field longer than me. great work today, by the way," you paused briefly, "brought up some good points i hadn't considered."

vincent hesitated, his eyes examining your face, "you're teasing me, aren't you? you already knew my points of argument today before you even set me up for them."

he watched as your lips pulled into a wide grin and a soft laugh escaped your nose. you were clever and brilliant, far too good to be a prosecutor in a small idyllic town. these qualities only attracted vincent to you more. for months now he only ever knew you inside the courthouse and he hoped for the day he'd see you outside these walls.

you stepped towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder and bringing your lips dangerously close to his ear, and with a whisper you said, "goodnight, maître."

with a drop of your hand, you were no longer standing beside him, and once again the melody of piano music rang through the hallways.

#anatomy of a fall #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi x you #vincent renzi fic #anatomie d'une chute #anatomy of a fall vincent #sebsbarnes

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

Anatomy of a Fall (2023) Swann Arlaud as Vincent Renzi

Except for Sailor Moon, I've never been into anime. But I'm so into this French guy looking like a modern, real-life Tuxedo Mask.

#anatomy of a fall #film #swann arlaud #vincent renzi #sailor moon #tuxedo mask

[rxgirlie]

The Verdict

(Sneak Peek)

Pairing: Vincent Renzi x OFC

A/N: okay, so, I have eleven chapters written so far but a lot of editing to do for this whole sha-bang. Here’s a cute little snippet for the Hot Lawyer Army. I told a white lie when I said the whole work in its entirety would be posted this week. (I am literally hot out of a writing work shop and legitimately whipped out a thesaurus and dictionary for this bad boy, like, who am I?)

In the quiet isolation where the Maleski family had sought refuge from the world, the tragic fall of Samuel Maleski unfolded into a legal and emotional labyrinth. Vincent Renzi, armed with the facts and facing the daunting task of defending Sandra, found himself navigating a case where the line between truth and perception blurred with every revelation.

Sandra, with her resolve wavering under the weight of public scrutiny, recounted the harrowing details to Vincent. Their conversations, often fraught with tension, revealed the complexities of her marriage to Samuel—a relationship marred by jealousy, ambition, and the tragic accident that had left their son, Daniel, blind.

As the case progressed, the absence of witnesses in their secluded life became a double-edged sword. Daniel's discovery of his father's fall, with no eyes to witness the tragedy and only the cold silence of the snow as his guide, painted a poignant picture of a family unraveled by misfortune.

During a brief respite from the intensity of legal preparations, Leah stepped outside for a breath of fresh Alpine air. The cold bit at her cheeks, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the indoors. She was soon joined by Sandra, who, in a rare moment of vulnerability, offered Leah a cigarette. The two women, standing side by side against the backdrop of snow and solitude, shared a silence that spoke volumes.

It was Sandra who broke the quiet, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and defiance. "You remind me of a cat, you know. A black cat—slinky, chic, and a bit intimidating. But ultimately harmless." Her comparison, unexpected yet oddly accurate, drew a surprised laugh from Leah, the tension between them easing for the first time.

Leah took a slow drag, considering Sandra's words. "A black cat, huh? I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose. They're survivors, after all."

Sandra's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, a glimmer of the woman she might have been before tragedy had taken its toll. "Survivors, yes. But they're also misunderstood. Feared for no reason other than superstition."

The conversation, meandering between confessions and observations, offered Leah a glimpse into Sandra's soul—her fears, her regrets, and her defiant hope for vindication. For Sandra, the moment provided a rare connection, a sense of being seen beyond the accusations and the public persona crafted by the media and the court.

As they stamped out their cigarettes and turned to head back inside, the brief camaraderie forged in the Alpine chill left an indelible mark. For Leah, the case had transformed from a professional challenge into a personal crusade, not just for justice, but for understanding the complex tapestry of human relationships that the law so often sought to untangle.

And for Sandra, the encounter with Leah—a woman as out of place in the snow as a black cat, yet standing her ground—offered a flicker of hope. In the face of overwhelming odds, perhaps there were still those willing to look beyond the surface, to see the truth hidden in the shadows.

————————————————————————

As Vincent navigated the winding roads back to Paris, the fading light of the Alpine sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and purple. Beside him, Leah sat wrapped in thought, the case of Sandra Maleski haunting her mind. The silence between them was comfortable, reflective of the trust and understanding that had developed over the course of their investigation.

Vincent broke the silence first, his voice steady against the hum of the engine. "Today was... revealing. Sandra's story, Daniel's perspective—it's like we're peeling back layers of truth hidden beneath layers of pain."

Leah nodded, turning to look at him. "It's more than just a legal battle; it's a fight for a family's soul. What struck me was Sandra's resilience, her ability to stand strong in the face of everything crumbling around her."

The conversation shifted naturally, as if the case had opened a door to more personal reflections. "You know," Vincent began, a hint of hesitation in his voice, "working on cases like these, it makes me wonder about the choices we make... the lives we lead outside the courtroom."

Leah caught the introspective tone in his voice, sensing an invitation into a part of Vincent's world that had remained closed off. "I've been thinking about that too. Back in New York, my life was all about the next case, the next win. But being here, working with you—it's made me realize there's so much more to life than just winning cases."

Vincent glanced at Leah, her profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. "And yet, here you are, far from home, diving headfirst into a complex case in a foreign country. What drove you to take this leap?"

Leah smiled, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Adventure? Escape? Maybe a bit of both. I guess I was looking for something different... something meaningful. And I've found it, not just in the case, but in the connections we've made... with Sandra, with Daniel, and with you."

The admission hung in the air between them, a testament to the journey they had shared. Vincent felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of kinship with Leah that went beyond professional respect. "You know, Leah, I've spent so much of my life focused on the law, on being the best lawyer I can be. But meeting you, seeing your passion, your empathy... it's reminded me that being a great lawyer is also about understanding the human heart."

As the lights of Paris began to twinkle in the distance, marking their return to the city's vibrant energy, Vincent and Leah found themselves at a crossroads. The case that had brought them together was also quietly weaving their lives into shared experiences and newfound discoveries.

"Whatever happens with the case," Leah said, her gaze fixed on the approaching cityscape, "I'm grateful for this journey. For the chance to make a difference and for the friendship we've built along the way."

Vincent nodded, the city's familiar streets welcoming them back. "And I, for one, am grateful for the black cat that crossed my path," he added with a smile, acknowledging Sandra's earlier comparison and the unexpected luck it had brought into his life.

As they drove into the heart of Paris, the case awaiting them, Vincent and Leah knew they were no longer just colleagues. They were allies in the pursuit of justice, bound by the shared belief that beyond the legal battles lay the stories of real people, deserving of empathy, understanding, and a chance at redemption.

#vincent renzi #vincent renzi fic #swann arlaud #vincent renzi x original female character #hot lawyer save me #hot lawyer anon #anatomy of a fall #anatomy of a fall vincent #vincent renzi fanfiction

[nuooage]

#anatomy of a fall #swann arlaud #vincent renzi