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Since reading the AOAF script, and finding out Vincent is also a PROFESSOR, TEACHING a criminal law course at a university, oh how badly I want to ride him in his office after class. Maybe he has reading glasses on too 😏 (ahem dying for a fic like this)
a/n: this… this one did something to my brain chemistry oml. mdni under the cut
you knew this was beyond inappropriate, beyond taboo, beyond wrong. but if the way it felt to be perched on Maitre Renzi’s lap was a sin, then you were hell’s luckiest sinner.
beads of sweat were already clinging to the hairs at your temples, your flushed chest barely covered by the disheveled blouse that was now missing the top two buttons. you panted, a keen whine slipping past your lips when a pair of soft lips presses wet kisses along the column of your throat.
vincent’s hands were restless, gripping hard at the exposed flesh that your little skirt did a poor excuse of covering. the low rumble of his hoarse voice made you clench around his cock that was pressing deliciously into the gummy spot inside you. “Quiet now, Miss L/N…” he murmurs against the warm skin of your chest, “you wouldn’t want someone interrupting our office hours, right?”
you swallow, the prospect of being caught in such a compromising position only made your cunt leak pitifully onto his lap. he hissed as you shift against him, his cock twitching at the quieted whimper slipping past your kiss-bitten lips.
your grades aren’t even bad. if anything, you were a natural prodigy in law. you didn’t even need to fuck your professor for better marks, you think to yourself as your head falls back when he finally starts to fuck up into you. but by god, did it feel good to.
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having a fight with vincent </3 AND THEN LIKE REALLY SOFT MAKE UP SEX PLS
a/n: this isn’t really a fight, but i really wanted to write something soft 😭 this isn’t that nsfw either, mostly suggestive.
vincent has been spending more and more time in his office than he does with you. it’s been weeks since you’ve been able to have a real dinner together, let alone a conversation that lasts more than three turns.
were you angry? maybe a bit. hurt? definitely. were you finally going to say something about it? well, that was your intention, but when vincent came home hours after a suitable dinner time, your patience had finally waned past the tipping point.
you were in bed, tossing and turning under the covers when you finally heard the faint sound of the front door opening and closing. you don’t even try to pretend to be asleep when vincent trudges into the room, already halfway done with unbuttoning his shirt.
it takes you a moment to garner your resolution. finally, when he sits on the foot of the bed, you sit upright, a definitive scowl on your face.
“when will this be over?”
your sudden question slightly startles him. he turns slightly to face you, and you purse your lips when you see the dark circles under his eyes. “what are you talking about, love?”
your frown only deepens. “you’re never home. you’re always working, and have no time, let alone energy anymore.” you ramble, feeling the flood of repressed emotions stir in your chest. your voice wavers as you grip the blanket over your lap, “I’m tired of never seeing you… I miss you, vincent..”
you swear you could see his heart shatter in the way his eyes soften. “oh, y/n…”
he’s already crawling across the bed when you press your face into your hands. a warm, gentle palm pulls your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.
his thumb brushes over your cheek with an irrefutable softness. “I’m sorry, ma cherie…” he whispers as he kneels before you. his face leans in closer to examine your expression, sincerity swimming in his irises. “It’ll be over soon, i promise.. the trial is next week, and then..” his gaze drops to your lips before he smiles warmly, staring into your eyes, “then I’m all yours.”
you pout, indignant. “I want you now,” you whisper, tilting your face ever so slightly that your lips brushed over his.
you feel him suck in a breath, the hand cradling your jaw tenses a fraction before he’s pressing his mouth to yours, melding your lips in a languid, passionate kiss.
your eyes flutter when you feel his tongue prod at the seem of your lips, and whimper when it finally slides against yours. he guides you onto your back, his free hand stroking the side of you waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt.
he pulls away, both of you panting softly. his palm slides up the dip of your waist, tickling your ribs with his featherlight touch. vincent stares down at you with a tender gleam in his eyes, his lips shining in the dim light.
he leans down again, slotting his knee between your thighs with a raspy chuckle, “then you shall have me.”
that post you reblogged about Swann teaching you French and kissing you if you get it right made me think…him making you speak it during sex…if you want him to do something you have to ask in French aksjdksklslsks
a/n: this one single-handedly made me pull out my notes from high school french ; mdni under the cut
“embrasser-moi..” you whimper with a hesitant whine.
“…wrong conjugation..” he mumbles against your lips. You can feel the smirk playing on his lips, “try again.”
you swallow, embarrassed, but determined. “em…” your eyes flutter as you stare up at him, and for a moment he wonders if you’d given up. but a proud grin curls at his mouth when he hears you shyly mutter, “embrasse-moi-“
he wastes no time in licking his tongue into your mouth, savoring the breathy moan he earns in return. his palm cradles your face as he presses into you impossibly closer, invading every one of your senses as his teeth nip at your bottom lip, pulling it away a fraction before he’s looking down at you with a lidded gaze, clearly enjoying making you work for it.
“well done, ma cherie… what else? try a full sentence this time.”
he can feel your chest brushing against his with each breath you take, can see the gears turning in your head while your hands grip his shoulder, “je veux.. que…” your lashes flutter as your cheeks flush with effort of remembering your studies. “…que tu touche-moi.”
he leans in, his forehead resting against yours, chuckling softly at your commendable effort. the low rumble of his voice stirs butterflies in your stomach, and your thighs clench at the smooth timbre as he whispers, “mmm… that was very close, mademoiselle…” he plants a lingering kiss to your lips, humming when he sees the way your eyes glaze over.
his fingers are light when you feel them skim across the dip of your waist, goosebumps raising in his wake. it takes every bit of restraint not to whine at the way his blunt fingernails traced just above the hem of your panties, teasing the waistband as he smirks down at you. he plants another kiss to your lips, his tongue languidly sliding against yours with a low groan.
hi! hello! sorry for being away for so long😔 between my work schedule and other responsibilities, i was severely burnt out and ended up dropping from the face of the earth (tumblr.com) with no preamble.
however — my life seems to have calmed down quite a bit and i am ITCHING to rekindle my obsession for a very specific french man.
i missed y’all dearly, and i should *hopefully* be clearing out some of the 80+ messages in my inbox slowly but surely. thank you guys for your patience n support🥹🤍
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new mini fic was sooo cute. Also I would def be making Swann at least moisturise and try and rope him into occasional skincare too if he was my man. We know he has a boyish face but with all the smoking he needs someone to make sure he takes care of his skin sometimes 😭
THIS IS SO REAL😭😭😭 i just KNOW this man would benefit so much from daily moisturizer + spf combo
was just doing skincare and thought of a cute little scenario where Swann likes watching you do it and then you try and put a face mask on him…🥰
broooooo the way this made me swoon😭
i can see it tho; the way he’d lean in the doorway of the bathroom while he was on his way past, but decided to stop n watch while you delicately spread a generous amount of product across your cheeks.
he’d probably make a small comment about how you looked like an alien with all that ‘green stuff’ on you, but the toothy smile poking through his words told you he was anything but serious.
“it’s a cooling mask,” you’d reply, your own brain formulating an idea almost instantaneously. your eyes meet his in the reflection of the mirror, a cheeky grin dancing across your features. “wanna try it?”
you think he’s about to decline, but when he pushes himself from the doorframe and saunters to stand behind you at the sink, your heart skips a beat. an arm loosely wraps around your waist while his chin rests in the dip of your shoulder. his breath whispers across the skin of your neck, his eyes still staring into yours through the mirror. “only if you help me put it on.”
reading your second ‘rivals with Pierre’ fic again and why do I feel like all of the other farmers/their social circles just KNOW those two will get together eventually? with all the tension lmao.
They’re probs taking bets on when it will happen/whether it’s already happened
they for sure have a group chat where they’re taking bets on who would make the first move🤭 (spoiler: no one thinks it’d be pierre lmaooo)
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