Your Obedient Servant
Antonio Paganini x Reader
warnings: NSFW (implied), alcohol, dubcon, servant x master dynamic, brief mention of pregnancy/breeding
It was common for the royals to have to find a new servant for Antonio, just as common as it was that those of the lower class became indebted to those same royals.
What wasn't common was a servant actually garnering the notoriously stubborn violinist's attention.
You tried to calm yourself as you made your way through the halls, having just been reassigned a new wing, a special wing. Specifically one chamber with only one person to serve, Antonio Paganini. Truly, you'd heard rumors of his hysterics; wine poured over the heads of servants with a sneer, and being given purposefully impossible tasks just to declare them incompetent.
Only glimpses of the ends of his hair and coat as he entered a room or rounded a hall, far away glances from windows or doorways, you hadn't actually seen him- until now, where you stood just before him.
“Hm? What's all this?”
Stepping back slightly when he opened the door, the water in the pitcher you held gently sloshed along the sides, and you bowed your head respectfully.
"I've been assigned to your care, I was told to bring a fresh pitcher to your chamber, m'Lord..." he practically loomed over you, you couldn't bring yourself to look up at him, staring down into the water. Your eyes widened when he let out a sudden laugh,
“Lord?” he asks, “Unless you think of me as some sort of God, you're mistaken. I have no lordship.” You recoil, opening your mouth to apologize but he cuts you off instantly, "Look up."
The man demands, not giving you a moment to comply before he grips your face by your cheeks and lifts your head up, startling you. You think better of pulling away, letting him inspect you with a tilt of his head before he lets his hand drop with a chuckle that makes your hair stand on end.
"Ahh... very well, come in then," he sighs out as he turns and walks into his room, so you comply, keeping a respectable distance and allowing yourself to be led along. As much as you try to resist being nosy, your curiosity wins over, quickly looking around as you make your way to the bedside before swapping out the pitcher for one both clean and full.
The room was a mess, curtains drawn, bed unmade, you could even see where he spent his time writing new movements, practicing on his violin, but even there paper had scattered and ink had spilled… Humming breaks you out of your thoughts, you find yourself tensing ever so slightly as you turn to face the source.
“I’ll take my leave now,” you say with a bow of your head; the silence feels almost deafening for a moment but you don't let it perturb you from making your way to the door. Just as you reach for the handle, a cold hand grips your wrist firmly, not roughly or painfully, but firmly.
“And just where do you think you’re scurrying off to?”
His voice is just behind your head, though you didn't hear him get up, but he was so close behind you now. Antonio's breath smelled of the more expensive wines the servants weren't allowed to partake in, the scent clung to his very being, it seemed.
You let your hand fall away from the door, and his grip fell along with it. Turning to face him, you tried to avoid looking as nervous as you felt, even going as far as to look up at his face for the few seconds you could bare.
“Was there… something more you needed, Master Antonio?” you ask, willing yourself to keep your voice even as your heartbeat grows erratic. Bringing yourself to finally hold his gaze, you quickly notice the subtle change in his expression.
He was still putting on a facade of composure, but as you looked up at him, there was a certain longing in his eyes… Perhaps one you know very well yourself.
“Mh, its been a long while since those snobs assigned a new servant to my quarters…” he speaks almost theatrically as if to brush off the tense moment, stepping away to walk back towards his desk, “Why don't you make yourself useful and tidy up here for me while I write.”
It was spoken like a suggestion but you knew better, the soiled pitcher you had been holding makes a muffled clink as you set it down, wiping your hands on your apron.
“Right away, sir.” You turn and start by making his bed, glancing over as Antonio sits back down in his chair.
Before anything else, he pours a glass of wine, something red and surely more expensive than anything you own within your meager quarters. He takes a sip, sighing as he begins to write.
As you work tidying the space, you catch glimpses of him as he too works; there are even moments when you both catch each other looking, though neither of you comment. He’s pouring a third glass of the red liquid as you move towards his desk,
“Master Antonio-” Before you can utter another word, there's a clatter. You recoil as the glass spills across his desk, wine soaking into his clothes. He pulls back and stands from his desk, sucking in air through his teeth,
“...ah, how clumsy of me” he mutters, though he doesn't actually sound very concerned, but you're too flustered to focus on anything other than quickly grabbing a rag to begin soaking up the mess.
“You should remove your jacket, sir. I'll go fetch you a clean shirt,” you say in a hurry, not noticing his bemusement at your genuine care for him, scurrying to the wardrobe to grab a clean shirt.
By the time you turn around the man has already begun unbuttoning his shirt, lazily pulling it off himself.
Frozen for a moment, you quickly shake your head of any improper thoughts, after all, you've dressed almost all who you had served and this was no different. You approached with the shirt, trying to give him modesty as Antonio cast aside the sullied garment.
“Please raise your arms for me,” shockingly, he complies with your polite request, raising his arms. You pull each sleeve over his arms, stepping in front of him to pull the shirt over his shoulders properly but before you can begin to button he's already sitting down in his chair again with a groan, leaning against the backrest with his legs sprawled out.
“Master Antonio, I need to button your shirt…” you mutter, but he only tilts his head, looking at you before a grin spreads across his flushed face.
“Go ahead,” he does not stand, instead remains seated, only spreading his legs wider for you to kneel at his feet.
Begrudgingly you step towards him, swallowing hard as you kneel to begin fastening the buttons at the bottom of his shirt.
Despite your best efforts to avoid it, you can feel his gaze boring into you. Halfway through buttoning his shirt, you halt your gesture, hesitantly looking up. Antonio doesn't look away, continuing to stare down at you where you kneel and tend to him.
His hands reach out to you and you flinch, making him pause for a moment before continuing. One hand pulls your own away from his shirt while the other, uncharacteristically gentle, brushes your hair back.
Instantly you stand and pull away, breaking eye contact as your heart skips several beats. Antonio barks out a laugh at your retreat, though his gaze never once leaves you.
“Where are you going, topolina? So skittish…” His voice is low, playful as he speaks. When he stands from the chair, he’s swaying slightly, "Running away from me already? Like the other servants?”
“Y-your shirt… I don't want it to stain, it should be washed right away…” your voice is almost strained, audibly nervous as you blurt out the excuse. It only serves to make him laugh again, a rich sound that sends chills up your spine.
“Stain? Ahh… so thoughtful,” he muses, stepping toward you with every step back you take, “But I don't care, I'd much rather you spend your time here, with me.”
You're backed against a wall before you know it, breath hitching when he cages you in. He's looming over you again, shirt half-buttoned, and you can smell the wine on his breath stronger than before, hear his breathing, so close you can share body heat.
“I'm going to kiss you…” his voice is barely above a whisper, the words making your hair stand on end. You look up at him with a doe eyed look, and he leans in, pausing just a moment as if giving you the opportunity to pull away before closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours.
It's messy, drunk on his part, but he makes up for it tenfold in passion. It's partially one sided, you don't know what to do with yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and letting him kiss you.
Your face feels hot and you feel dizzy just from a few moments. After a while your hands press against his chest, this is inappropriate, this is wrong- isn't it?
Antonio pulls your hands away, practically engulfing them in his own as he pushes forward, pressing himself closer. He pulls his mouth away for just a moment before pressing an open mouthed kiss against your lips, his tongue tracing against the seam.
A muffled whimper escapes you, heart racing as you give in to him once more, parting your lips. The feeling is strange and foreign, his tongue licking against yours, you can still taste the wine he had been drinking. He groans into your mouth, the mixed sounds of panting and kissing unraveling into something more debauched.
You turn your face away, gasping as you finally open your eyes again, whining when you feel his mouth trail down your jaw to your neck, ravishing the sensitive skin there with open mouth kisses.
He hums against your skin, and you can feel his lips curl into a smile when he pulls those little sounds from you, making you squirm in his grasp.
“Mh- Master Antonio!” you manage to choke out, voice breathy but enough to pull him away from indulging himself in your flesh.
“Is something the matter? Do you not like my attention?” he asks, that mischievous lilt in his voice, hands releasing yours to trail down to your hips, “How I touch you?”
His words make your knees feel weak, giving you fluttering butterflies within your stomach. Desperate for relief, you try to control your breathing, fully unable to look at him as he teases you, his hands running along your body.
“This- this is highly improper-” you manage to stammer out, hand weakly grasping his own as he tries to slip it under your clothes. Another chuckle, another hum as he leans in breath tickling your ear,
“Maybe, but doesn't it feel good?” He presses himself against you again, but this time you can feel something firm and hot straining in his pants, grinding against your hip. He groans in your ear, giving your goosebumps, and trails off into another playful laugh,
“You know, the royals have spoken of arranging for me to breed with some poor damsel, all in hopes to pass on my talents…” His hand gropes your chest, before sliding down to settle on your stomach, “I’ve always found it distasteful but…”
Trailing off, he allows you to absorb the sentiment before finally finishing, “Perhaps I wouldn't mind if it were you.”
A/N:
ahhhh! thank you so much for reading my work! It's been a very long time since I've truly written, and im so excited and nervous to post this!
Special thanks to @yoshinoritoshi for helping me stay motivated AND for editing for me! (go read their works they are so good)
