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pairing ☽˚⁀➷｡ personal chef!steve x fem!reader
summary ☽˚⁀➷｡ you hire steve to work for you but he's the one who makes the rules
word count ☽˚⁀➷｡ 1,749
warnings ☽˚⁀➷｡ sexual tension, steve working for you, cooking food, spankings, wooden cooking spoon, fingering, hair pulling, name calling, pet name(kitten)
꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎
The sizzle of the vegetables in the pan was like an orchestra to his ears. He shook the pan a few times and added a sprinkle of salt and pepper. You had a pretty simple palate but that doesn't mean he couldn't work with it.
He glances up from the stove to the living room. If anyone had a dream to have an apartment in the city, this would be the place they dreamt of. The furniture was a splitting image of a modern sanctuary. All furniture was in black and white, not even a single shade of grey in sight.
Well, except for him standing out on the balcony.
You were wearing a long black dress with your favorite red shoes. As if on cue, you turned around and caught him looking at you. You raised your class to your lips and for a moment he was almost jealous of a cup.
Steve had been working as your personal chef for over a year now. When you first hired him, you told him it was for his looks alone. He wasn't surprised that the city's hottest bachelorette had been so blunt. He wasn't anything special but he liked to think that he had a chance if he wanted to snatch you up.
Your height was nothing close to his towering 6'1. He wasn't like those models you brought back to your place but at least he had curves and muscles in all the right places. He tried to fit some gym time which, thankfully, has rewarded him with a nice, strong biceps that complimented his rock hard chest. His blonde colored, groomed hair pushed back.
He had told you, you were being quite unprofessional and threatened to quit after the first day. The only thing that had you begging him to stay was the first bite of food you had tried.
The sliding of the balcony door snapped him out of that memory and towards the vegetables cooking in the pan. He grabbed a lemon from a bowl nearby and squeezed some juice into the pan to zest up the dish.
"That smells incredible." Your voice sounded like a hot knife cutting through butter. If velvet could talk, it would be with that voice.
"Thank you. I added a dash of lemon in there since you liked last night's lemon chicken so much." he said. He continued looking at the cooking vegetables, not trusting himself to look up at you. He cracked three eggs into a bowl and started whisking.
