Macklin Celebrini x private!chef!reader
Summary: Macklin definitely didn’t need someone to cook for him. He was twenty, not ten. But, when his agent hired you? It was all over for him the moment he met you.
Warnings/contents: smut, pinv, cussing, protected sex, allusions? to oral (m receiving)
Authors note: 3k words later and its done!! This was the longest thing I've ever wrote but I actually really like it 🙂↕️ also idk if anyone ever realizes but abt 85% of the things I’ve posted have had songs as the title and I take it incredibly serious 😭 it’s like picking a song for an instagram story
Macklin Celebrini had a problem. A very, very, drastic problem. Because when the Sharks nutritionist suggested he hire a private chef to cook for him, he hadn’t expected you.
One almost kitchen fire at the SAP center left him with the chirps of a lifetime and a suggestion for someone to help him out. But in his defense, Macklin hadn't realized that the burner was still hot when he set the oven mitt down on it. So, could people really blame him? Apparently so.
And at first, he had protested the idea, arguing that he was more than capable of making sure he ate healthy enough and made quality food. But unfortunately, his track record with cooking wasn't good enough. So, with enough bribing from his agent, he finally caved and let him take care of it. Assuming that you would be an old man that was grumpy and didn't enjoy anything other than his paydays.
But he quickly found out he was wrong. So very wrong.
Because when you knocked on his door for the first time, his entire world shifted on its axis. You were older than him, freshly graduated from school. And from what his agent said, you had worked with a few professional athletes before.
“Hi, Macklin? I’m y/n.” You said, and his mind went blank when you spoke. His brain stuttered, forgetting everything he was going to say.
“Hi,” He paused awkwardly. “Sorry—yeah, that's me. Come in.” He stepped aside, letting you walk into his apartment. Mentally cursing himself for sounding so rude. He was awkward, he knew that. A twenty year old hockey player who, besides around other players, never had many social interactions.
He awkwardly stuttered his way through more small talk before leaving you in the kitchen, with the promise to help as much as he could if you needed anything. Quickly, his apartment smelled like a five star high-end restaurant in downtown San Jose. And the aroma of whatever you were cooking had him practically drooling.
Macklin spent the next hour of you making dinner figuring out a way to start a conversation with you. And by the time you had told him it was done, he still had nothing.
“This looks incredible. Thank you.” He said, sending you a smile.
You smiled. “The dishes are all done and put away. What time would you like me here tomorrow?” You asked, and Mack felt a twinge of disappointment that you were leaving.
“You’re not going to eat?” He asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
You let out a small smile at his face. “No.”
Right, Mack thought. This was your job, nothing else.
“Oh.” He paused, before plastering on a fake smile. “Probably around the same time if that's okay?”
“That sounds good. See you tomorrow." You said, sending him a small smile as you walked towards the door.
“See you tomorrow.” he said softly.
These short interactions had been going on for months, and they were killing Macklin. He felt like a high schooler again—especially with how often you turned him on by simply doing your job. But he decided to blame that on the fact he hadn't gotten laid in months. Just yesterday, you were making dinner for him, and Macklin had to force himself to think of workouts, his family, and hockey stats just to not imagine how your lips would feel wrapped around his cock.
You were cool, calm, and professional. And Macklin hated it. He wanted nothing more than to simply get a reaction out of you. There was more than one time that he knew you were coming over, so he made sure he was wearing the shirt he knew hugged his biceps well, or the shorts that rode up a bit too much when he sat down.
None of that even phased you, and it drove him wild.
So he did the most obvious thing—he went to his brother for advice. Obviously, he didn't mention his pent up sexual frustration to him. But he picked Aidan's brain with other things.
“She's just so—I don't know, she's just so sweet but unphased about everything I do, and it bothers me.” He complained. “I feel like a school kid again with this crush.”
“Well,” Aidan said. “Maybe that's a good thing.”
“Keeps you on your toes. Gives you something to work for.”
“I’m not following.” He said bluntly.
“If you really want her, you need to work for it. Show her you're serious, responsible, trustworthy. Get to know her. Start simple, go easy. It's not rocket science, you're just down bad.” He explained. “Do you even know if she's single?”
“No, but I don't think she's got a boyfriend.” Mack said.
‘Start there then.” Aidan suggested.
“Okay, yeah I can do that. Thanks Aidan.”
“Yeah, of course. I hope it works out for you.” He told him.
Macklin muttered a thanks before bidding him farewell and hanging up. The silence soon settled in his apartment. A silence that he wished was filled with you, he wanted you to be there with him—not just to make him food because he was too busy to figure it out himself. He wanted you to dance in the kitchen with him at midnight, or hold him after a bad game, whispering sweet nothings so he didn't get into his own head. He wanted you to kiss him breathless. He wanted you to go to his games, cheering from the family room when he scored.
There, at exactly 3:47 PM Macklin made himself a promise. He was going to show you that he was more than an idiot hockey player who couldn't cook a steak to save his life.
When you showed up to his apartment, Macklin had already cleaned it twice in two hours. Not that you would ever find that out, though. You had the same routine there for months. Knock on his door, make your way to his kitchen, cook dinner, clean, and leave before Macklin could utter a single word after thank you. Some days, you were there longer. (Exactly two and a half hours, not that Macklin was counting though) Prepping his lunches for after practices so that all he had to do was heat it up.
“Do you,” He hesitated, standing nervously at the entrance to his kitchen. “Do you want to stay for dinner tonight? I mean—you don’t have to, I just figured I’d offer and…” He trailed off, voice getting significantly smaller.
You sighed, setting down the carrot you had been peeling. “Macklin, I’m really not supposed to do that.” You weren't dumb, you had seen the advances Macklin had tried making on you, but you never really gave him the time of day before.
“Why? It’s not like we're doing anything wrong.” He remarked. “Unless you have a boyfriend or something.”
You shook your head. “No, no I don't have a boyfriend.”
Macklin had to bite back the grin forming.
“Well then what's the issue?” He asked softly.
“It's inappropriate. I can't do that, I’m working.” You weren’t sure if you were reminding him or yourself.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Then come over for lunch tomorrow? If you wanna leave at any point you can, but can we try?” He pleaded. “Please?” He added as an afterthought.
You looked at him. His gaze was unwavering, his cheeks were flushed, and you suddenly realised the way he had been staring at you for the past few months wasn't just your imagination.
You're not really sure why you agreed. The whole ordeal was the exact thing you had told yourself not to do when you had first got this job. “Fine,” You found yourself saying. “I’ll be over at one. Sound good?”
He nodded, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah, sounds great.”
“Yeah—oh fuck, just like that.” He whimpered, hand threading through your hair as your tongue flicked out, licking a stripe down the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.
His breathing was ragged, pupils blown wide with desire. He finally had what he was desperately craving. You were on your knees, staring up at him through your lashes, cheeks flushed and tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Macklin had never seen a more beautiful sight. And he wanted the image to be engraved in his brain for the rest of time.
Your lips wrapped around him, cheeks hollowing as you took him down your throat. One hand coming up to work what you couldn't fit in your mouth, while the other had a hold on his muscular thigh. Nails digging into the muscle to keep him from moving. You maintained your eye contact as you started bobbing your head up and down and he shuddered—a full body tremor that he couldn't suppress.
“Fuck, I’m close.” He moaned softly, head tilted back, chest heaving.
You hummed around him, speeding up your pace, giving his thigh a squeeze.
“Oh fuck.” He groaned, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh—Oh fuck.”
Mack gasped, eyes shooting open at the sound of his alarm. “Fuck.” He groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face. This was not the first time he had a dream like that, and it certainly wouldn't be his last. He was painfully hard. So turned on by the thought of you on your knees for him that the thought of going to practice immediately pissed him off. But the reminder of you coming over later was enough of a motivator for him to get up and take a cold shower.
“Hi.” Macklin smiled, stepping aside to let you into his apartment. “I…uh, I attempted to make food but it burnt.” He laughed awkwardly, cheeks pink. “So I figured we could order chipper or something? I hope that's okay.”
You laughed, following him into the living room. “Really?” You raised a brow. “What did you burn?”
He flushed even more, grimacing when he told you, “I tried to make pasta and chicken.”
He sat down on the couch, gesturing for you to do the same.
“Oh Macklin.” You tsked, settling down on the couch a respectable distance away.
He laughed softly. “Wanna watch something?”
“Sure.” You told him, trying to ignore how his arms flexed when he grabbed the remote. Or how his fingers pushed the buttons. The image of them pumping in and out of you flashed through your mind. And you had to take a deep breath to control your thoughts.
The TV started to play mindlessly. A random romcom Mack had turned on from Netflix. You exchanged small talk with each other. Talking about a new tiktok his best friend Will had them make.
The tension simmering in the apartment was thick enough to cut with a knife. It was undeniable the way Macklin was staring at you as he talked, his gaze steady. His legs were spread, and he was wearing shorts that left little covered with how they rode up his muscular thighs when he sat down.
Your breath hitched as he stood up and stretched, trying to ignore the very prominent v-line that appeared when his shirt rode up. He grinned slightly, noticing your reaction. “I’ll be right back.”
You nodded, watching as he walked down the hall, disappearing for a minute before coming back. You definitely didn't miss the blush coating his cheeks when he sat back down, closer to you than before.
You sat there for a bit longer, trying to focus on the movie and ignore the way Macklin kept subtly shifting towards you. You saw him open and close his mouth, brows furrowed as he suddenly looked at you.
“Are you okay?” You asked, finally glancing at him.
He paused. Taking a deep breath.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered, voice soft and filled with nerves.
Your brain short-circuited, going blank as you tried to think of the morally right thing to say. That all disappeared when you saw the vulnerability in his features, eyes darting across your face nervously.
“Please.” You found yourself saying, your hand coming up to cup the back of his head, pulling him closer. Macklin didn't waste any time, his lips meeting yours, soft at first. His hand coming up to cup your jaw gently.
You pulled back for a moment, gasping for breath. You both opened your eyes, making quick eye contact before your lips crashed together. Your teeth grazed his bottom lip and he gasped, you used that to your advantage, slipping your tongue in his mouth. He let out a soft whimper, hands guiding you onto his lap.
When you sat down, you felt the already hard line of his cock straining against his shorts. A whimper escaped both your lips as you tentatively grinded down, hips rocking in a slow rhythm. “Fuck.” He gasped, voice already wreaked.
“Is this okay?” You asked against his lips, grinding your hips down again. He nodded against your face, hips rutting up in desperation.
“Yes, yes—fuck.” He whimpered. You kissed his jaw, peppering his neck with little bites—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave him gasping beneath you.
His hands found their way under your hoodie, exploring your body. “Can I?” He whispered, thumb rubbing against your skin. You nodded against his neck, helping him take off your hoodie, leaving you in just your bra and shorts. “Fuck.” He said, eyes scanning your body. “You’re so beautiful.” His hand snaked around your back, unhooking your bra with ease.
His thumb and index finger came up to your breast, pinching your nipple. You felt heat pool in your lower body. “Mack.” You whimpered, suddenly not caring about anything other than your animalistic need for him. “Need you.”
He groaned, flipping you over in one clean motion, pinning you beneath him. The position was awkward at first, the couch limited on space. But neither of you cared, mouths connecting in another passionate kiss. He made quick work of removing his shirt, before latching his lips onto the sensitive skin under your jaw. You knew there would be a mark there later, but you didn't bother stopping him. Too absorbed in the heat of the moment to care—especially with the little whimpers he was making while he was sucking on your skin.
His hand toyed with the hem of your shorts. “Is this okay?” He asked, and you nodded, shimmying out of your shorts. “Fuck.” He breathed, lips ghosting your collarbone. “I’ve wanted this for months.”
“Show me.” You told him, running your nails across the hard plains of his abs until you got to the waistband of his shorts. “Off.”
You felt Macklin grin against your neck, pulling both his shorts and boxers off in one quick motion. He climbed off you suddenly, grabbing his wallet from the coffee table, and pulling out a condom. You laughed slightly. “Prepared, huh?”
He nodded, cheeks bright red as he positioned himself back on top of you. His hand came down, middle finger ghosting over your clothed clit. You gasped, arching into the touch. His finger barely ghosted you, and you already felt a heat spread throughout your body. That same finger came up to the hem of your panties, pulling them off quickly. While his mouth found your nipple, teeth grazing it slightly before his tongue soothed it.
His finger came back down, running through your folds. “Oh fuck.” He groaned. “You’re so wet for me.” He slid his finger inside you suddenly, curling it up into the spot that knocked the breath out of your lungs. He set a quick pace, thumb circling your clit as his finger pumped in and out of you.
You moaned. “Please, I need you.” You trailed your nails down his back, and he groaned, pulling his hand away. Reaching for the condom and opening it, he slid it on before lining himself up with your entrance.
“Ready?” He asked and you nodded. He rubbed his length between your folds, collecting the wetness, before sliding in. You both moaned when he bottomed out. The stretch of him inside you nearly sent you over the edge before he even started moving.
Macklin started moving, setting a slow and deep pace that had him hitting the gummy spot inside of you with each thrust. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer against you as you pulled his face down to kiss you.
“Been thinking about this so much.” He admitted, voice strained. “Thought about you taking my cock like this.” You moaned, clenching around him at his words. “You’re taking me so good.” He kissed your forehead. “Such a good girl.”
His words combined with the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you made the pressure build up in your lower stomach unbelievably fast. “Mack—I’m close.”
His hand came down again, finger finding your clit and rubbing circles, circling it with the pace of his thrusts. “C’mon.” He said. “Let go for me.” He picked up the pace of his thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed as your orgasm washed over you. Leaving you gasping and withering under him as you cried out his name into the empty apartment. Macklin followed right after with a choked whimper, burying himself as deep as possible as he rode out his own release.
He pulled out, collapsing next to you, breathing heavily as he caught his breath. He pulled you closer to him, hand coming up to rub your back soothingly. “You okay?” He asked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
You nodded, laying your head down on his chest. “Yeah—yeah, I’m good.” You opened your eyes to see Macklin already looking at you, relief evident on his face. His hair was sticking up wildly and you smiled, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through it.
You both laid there together, Macklin's chest rising and falling beneath you. His hand brushed a stray piece of hair from your face, thumb rubbing your cheek. After a few minutes, he spoke again. “So… wanna order that chipper now?”
You let out a breathless laugh, sitting up. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
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