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sparrowwithaquill · 13 days ago

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[Preview] Euphelicia | Yan!Venti x Reader

“Do you ever wonder if the Anemo Archon hears you more clearly than anyone else?” he said more softly, his voice dipping into something low and intimate.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden seriousness of his tone.

“I…” You hesitated, the question strange and unfamiliar. “I just sing with all my heart. If everyone liked my singing, then that’s enough for me. But…” you paused, fiddling the cross around your finger as you looked across the altar and stared at the relics displayed. “It would be nice if the Anemo Archon heard me and liked my voice.”

Venti's expression shifted, his eyes turning up in delight just barely.

“Of course he loves it, angel. That’s why it reaches him.” He leaned in again, just close enough for his breath to brush against your ear.

“And it drives him wild, you know.”

here have some freaky pervert archon venti treats <333

full version (18+ ONLY! pls dm me for the password to access the @lilext blog)

warning: contains noncon, religious elements, somnophilia, forced marking (womb tattoo), impregnation, body modification (just venven making his cock bigger dw) in the full ver

artist: chenshuisuhe

word count: 2.3k | 20k (full fic)

Venti is one who was known for frequently visiting the tavern in the evenings. So his appearance in the cathedral wasn’t technically odd since everyone is welcome to join in to worship Mondstadt’s very own god. However, his frequent visits have certainly caught the attention of the nuns and deacons alike who were singing their praises to the Anemo Archon.

This bard was particularly interested in one person, a volunteer member of the church’s choir group: you. You weren’t a new face in Mondstadt; however, your volunteer was quite recent— just a little couple of months ago— and he couldn’t help but set his eyes on you since your tunes and prayers had reached his ears.

A pretty little angel, always showing up to church in dresses that flattered your figure far too well. How did he not know you before? While Venti absolutely could find success with other people if he wanted to, his thoughts were too consumed by you to even consider it. He wanted you and you alone, and he had been consistently approaching and praising your voice in a tireless effort to charm you.

While everyone approached and praised Barbara, the beloved idol deaconess of the Church of Favonius, Venti was the only one who would always make his way toward you after the sermon ended. Sure, there were a few nuns and deacons complimenting your voice and offering kind words about your singing, but most of them were brief.

Unlike him, he showered you with adoration endlessly.

You weren’t as popular as the Shining Idol, but he preferred your spotlight stay low, quiet, and unnoticed. It gives him the upper hand, praising you to himself without any nuance of competition.

No other voices drowning out his.

No other eyes lingering on you.

You were his private miracle. His sacred songbird.

Before the final note of the choir faded, he would be waiting near the pews or lounging casually by the archway. And without fail, the choir group would start whispering and elbowing one another, giggling behind palms the moment the infamous bard sauntered up to you.

They’ve grown to recognize his face and his presence within the cathedral on Sundays. How this bard always looked at you during the mass, how he’d always praised your voice— not just once, not just lightly but with near-devotional intensity.

And sure enough, a new buzz and chatter reached every corner of the sacristy.

It had become a weekly ritual where Venti would single you out. His visits had become a part of your Sunday routine, and your choir singing had become a part of his, and he certainly wished these would be permanent and be part of your life.

Dahlia, of course, noticed this shift in his own routine, yet he didn’t question it, which the bard very much appreciated. However, if the deacon’s curiosity got the best of him and asked him in one of their nightly drinks, the archon would only shut his questions down as if he didn’t know what his herald was talking about.

Giving you special treatment? As if! He was merely a bard with a talent in music who found his muse. Where was the special treatment? He wasn’t part of the church choir group. If he was, he would be praising everyone equally— though, he would rather spend some time alone practicing with you.

Others were too blinded by Barbara’s glittering radiance that they’d rather focus on her charm as Mondstadt’s beloved idol.

But Venti?

He noticed the way your voice trembled with sincerity, the way your hands folded gently in prayer, and how your eyes would so often flicker in his direction.

Whenever your gaze met his, he’d offer a gentle smile and a small wave. And like clockwork, you’d flush and quickly avert your gaze, pretending to focus elsewhere.

But sometimes, he’d catch you sneaking a timid glance from the corner of your eye.

And each time, it made his heart flutter crazily.

You didn’t seek applause. You didn’t crave attention.

And that made him all the more attracted to you.

This Sunday's gospel was the same as any other— except you were given the special role to sing a solo passage. Venti was excited when he heard about this from Dahlia. He came early, far too early, where he lingered around the cathedral and watched everyone prepare. His gaze inevitably found you in the corner, practicing your part with quiet focus, your hands clutched at your cross necklace as you mouthed the verses under your breath.

So when the mass began, Venti sat near where the choir group was situated and closed his eyes and focused on your voice singing your devotion to him. His heart fluttered and he calmed down the heat coiling in his groin. He honed in on your face, hoping you’d see him from your vision.

And it certainly worked.

Your eyes flickered quickly to his and he didn’t miss how your cheeks reddened up, how your body stiffened to see him there watching you, how your shoulders locked into place as if caught doing something intimate. But you had good control over your nerves; not once did you falter or miss a note during your solo piece. You kept your eyes forward, choosing to focus ahead and avoid his gaze so you wouldn’t get distracted and ruin the solemn prayer.

This should be normal for you that Venti always comes to the church on Sundays, always finding a reason to sit close, always has some flattering comment after. And yet, you still found yourself flustered every time his eyes locked onto you like that.

He listened to your ethereal songs not just with his ears, but with his entire being.

Your voice wasn’t meant for the congregation. It was meant only for him, the Anemo Archon, Barbatos. You were worshipping him, glorifying his very divine being.

And the Anemo Archon heard the hymns of his pretty angel.

Yes, that’s it. That’s his angel, singing his name in the most divine of disguises.

The moment the mass ended, Venti was already waiting for you in his pew, smiling almost proudly. He ignored the hellos and good mornings from the sisters. Talking to you was much more important.

"Ahh, another wonderful gift the winds have brought to this humble cathedral!" he sighed dreamily, clutching your hands to his chest as if he was overcome by your melody. "Surely, surely, the Anemo Archon is delighted in hearing a sweet and pretty angel like you sing his name, my songbird."

You laughed and waved him off, flustered. “Please, your singing is leagues better than mine.”

But Venti only leaned closer. “Better? Me? Not even close! Compared to you, my voice is but a breeze. But yours is the hymn the heavens echo.”

Once again, he started listing praises that put you on the spot as the rest of the choir members watched and teased you as they left, whereas the new members watched in curiosity while they restored.

"Your pitch, your control, the way your notes carry in the rafters like birds lifted in the wind… Ah, I could list your charms forever and still fall short!"

You fiddled with the cross hanging on your neck, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as you averted his gaze with flushed cheeks.

“Th-thank you, really… It means so much that a bard like you likes my voice.” You tried to cut him off with modesty, but he gently shushed you with a feather-light touch on your lips.

"No, no, don’t be humble. That voice of yours is sacred. It’s not just beautiful, it’s blessed. If I were the Anemo Archon…” he paused briefly before a knowing smile tugged at his lips.

"…I’d have you sing for me and me alone.”

His thumb traced your bottom lip, gazing deeply at the pink lip gloss that tinted your plump lips. He wondered what it would taste like to kiss you here right now in his own sacred place.

You smiled bashfully and stepped back as you covered your flushed face with the back of your hand. “You flatter me, Venti. I was just doing my part to sing praise to Lord Barbatos.”

Your fingers still clung lightly to the cross around your neck, trying to ground yourself and keep yourself calm by all this attention and praises he kept showering you with. It was more intimate than usual and it always caused your stomach to flutter in delight.

Venti set his hand back to his side and neither of you said anything for a moment. His viridian eyes moved up and down your body, observing your clothes, your hair, and your movement, letting all of these details be engraved in his mind.

That is until you break the silence. “Um, I’ve got some errands to do, so…”

Venti panicked, realizing he had been staring at his angel for too long than he realized. Before you could walk away, he grabbed at your hand, and it sent a pathetic rush of heat to his lower stomach.

“Just a moment. I have a question for you I’ve always been meaning to ask…” His gaze flickered to your cross and then back at your eyes that looked up at him with innocent curiosity as your lashes fluttered with each blink.

Archons, he wanted to eat you up.

“Do you ever wonder if the Anemo Archon hears you more clearly than anyone else?” he said more softly, his voice dipping into something low and intimate.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden seriousness of his tone.

Venti's expression shifted, his eyes turning up in delight just barely.

“Of course he loves it, angel. That’s why it reaches him.” He leaned in again, just close enough for his breath to brush against your ear. “And it drives him wild, you know.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, not quite sure if he was teasing you again. He only grinned, stepping back with a playful twirl of his cape.

“Ah, but I’ve said too much! You’ll think I’m just some overly romantic bard. I shall not take any more of your time.”

He stepped aside, letting you pass. Your shoulders brushed his slightly, leaving behind a faint trace of your perfume. It smelled sweet, clean, and something soft like lilies kissed by morning dew. He inhaled subtly, letting it linger in his senses.

With a playful wave, he called out, “May the Anemo Archon bless your day, my sweet angel!”

You turned briefly, cheeks still warm. “You too, Venti!”

The endearing nickname made your heart flutter as you stepped through the exit of the great cathedral. The doors shut behind you with a deep echo, sealing off the world outside.

Venti remained where he was before dropping into the pew with a soft sigh. He tilted his head back, letting his eyes slip shut as his arms stretched along the backrest. He glanced over and noticed a heap of cream-colored fabric resting on the pew. Curious, he reached over and dragged it closer.

He quickly recognized it as yours. The cardigan you wear on cold days, discarded right next to him. His eyes sparkled and his lips turned to a wide smile.

What a coincidence. He could use this as an excuse to show up at your house! The ever-helpful and kind friend personally delivering your lost belonging. Surely that would have you fall for him then!

But before he could do that, a strange impulse overtook him. He pulled the cardigan up to his face and proceeded to inhale deeply through his nose.

Your scent hit him like a kick to the nuts. A wave of heat rushed in his face and began to spread all the way down to his feet.

Barbatos have mercy, you smelled heavenly. He's managed to catch whiffs when you passed by him, but this is something else entirely.

He buried his nose into the fabric, groaning softly as he surrounded himself in your smell. He imagined it was your hair, burrowing into the sweet strands and combing through it with his fingers. How lovely that would be, to actually touch you with his own hands.

Your lips were a temptation the god could scarcely resist. How soft, plump, and pink it was that lingered on his thumb when he traced them. For you to wear such alluring makeup that made his cock hard must’ve been an invitation. A silent beckon to his sinful desires.

The silence within the cathedral was loud as Venti groaned and pressed his face deeper against the cotton fabric.

Faintly, he heard a voice in his head. A whisper. Not through lips, but through soul.

Your voice, not in song, but in prayer.

“Please hear me, Anemo Archon… I only want to sing well for you. Please let my voice reach you in the next ceremony...”

Venti’s breath caught, and a strong cold shiver ran through his entire body. He moaned and bucked his hips, inhaling your cardigan’s aroma deeply, engraving the perfume and scented detergent you used to wash your clothes.

How precious. How earnest.

You weren’t singing, but he could still hear the melody behind your words.

He brought a hand down between his legs, groaning, and throwing his head back as he dropped the cardigan over his lap. A small drool slipped from the corner of his lips as he panted.

“You already have, darling.” He answered back to nobody but to your prayer.

full fic of more nasty nasty stuff in my private blog >:)) message me to access the blog

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