Good? Nah, I'm the best.
Race car driver & MMA!Sukuna x f!Reader
SYNOPSIS: you wonder if you have a devout stalker following you or it's just fate intertwining two people with similar interests. what starts as a mere curiousity for different hobbies, ends up bringing out the competitive spirit in you to outshine the master. [ONGOING SERIES]
[ TAGS ] SLOW BURN. enemies to lovers. freaky reader. feisty reader. pervy daydreaming. swearing. expected smut (18+) in future chps. mdni.
CHAPTER 1. Meet cute or meat the cook?
taking your hot choco as you lean on the windowsill of your apartment, you admire the cityscape with a sense of independence.
the air tickles, you're scared but at the same time excited for what's life to offer without the familiar presence of your family in the house.
it's just you, in your tiny apartment, in a new city, pursuing an ambition that you just once dreamed off.
you hear faint screeches of cars and loud cheers of men in a distance. you didn't pay it no mind, thinking it's just a part of the city you have to get used to anyways. so you shut your window, and return to the comfort of the small living space.
tires screech on the pavement as Sukuna does a sharp drift on the curve of the makeshift track. challengers who imitate him with little experience loosen control of the wheel and hit the tire borders on the side.
Sukuna glances at the side mirror and tchs. little boys who talk shit but can't act shit.
the crowd's larger and there's definitely too many people, too many lights, just too much—attracting unwanted attention for a sleep-deprived police officer on their night shift.
and as if on cue, red and blue lights glow faint in the distance, together with a siren sound to accompany it. people scrambled like maggots to get into their cars and motorcycles to leave the scene.
anyone caught participating, most especially acting in illegal car racing on an owned, undeveloped property are bound to get caught as part of the political platform of mayoral candidate Higuruma. he won the election by a landslide last week, as majority of the citizens are hopeful for his ambitious ideas for the further development of the city.
Sukuna shifts the gear and leaves as well, faster, and more efficient than everyone. he parked his precious red, glossy Chevrolet Camaro in his garage and thinks, it's gonna be a long fucking boring week.
months passed by and you grew accustomed to the food, the culture, and the people. as you smoothly find your groove in your postgraduate studies, something was definitely missing in your eat-study-go home routine.
you need hobbies.
so there was your pretty cute self, booking an online slot at a local cooking seminar in town.
well you expected bride to be's, newly wedded couples, or even young adults like yourself, in hopes to gain essential life skills, to be in attendance. but you never expected a hunk, tattoed man with salmon hair to be there.
you're in the same row as him, just separated by the aisle in the center. in this distance, you can clearly see how hot he is. the tattoes that adorned his face highlighted the sharp lines on his face, brows knitting as he reads the course plan present on the counter of every row. your eyes traveled to his thick, tight neck connecting the cords of his muscular shoulders and arms.
god, he was a sight to behold. probably the hottest man you've ever seen in your life—and, your type too.
"Hello everyone! I will be the instructor for this seminar in the next 12 days. Pleasure to meet you all!" the instructor's voice snaps you from your trance.
right, you're here for hobbies. not a man.
but that thought goes flying over the window as you gawk at him from time to time while cooking. you're listening, yes you are. well, you try to be.
big, bulky biceps arranged the tools and equipment in his station. how it would look pretty choking you–
you shut your eyes tight, no. this isn't the time for it.
you stop looking and focused on the instructions. you swear you're doing it for hobbies. but a little crush as motivation wouldn't hurt right?
so that's what you did.
as the little fashionista you are, started wearing fitted shirts with tight jeans, baggy tops with short skirts, skimpy shorts with laidback blouses, halter bikini tops as bras, and many more.
but no, nothing seems to get the attention of the guy. so on the last day of the course, you just gave up. boyfriend jeans and a chill cute sweater.
and of all the fucking times, why is the last activity was to exchange the food you made to your row mates to see how much has each other improved over the last few days.
everyone was given free will to what they'll make, so long as they apply the principles learned over the course.
I looked at fat juicy steak I made, together with a burger with cheese dribbling on the side, and fries cooked to perfection. I went all out thinking I'd take this to go and eat it home.
I'm not so much worried about what he thinks, I know it tastes good as it looks good. It's just... a waste for someone not me to eat it.
others already started exchanging theirs with their respective partners while you debated on whether you should take a bite first.
"you gon' give it or what?" the sound of the ceramic plate of his dish dropping on my ceramic counter produced a loud clink.
I looked at him as he towered of me, indifference seeping through every facial expression of his as I pushed my dish towards his way and pulled his plate towards me.
his... looks delicately done and plated. five fresh, raw scallops sit in the middle, huddled together. atop of it is a steaming, poached egg. from the side, it's plated by a white truffle sauce, accentuated by one flat-leaf parsley. it looked professionally made.
he tasted my dish. took a slice of the steak and burger, then ate 2 fries.
"not bad..." he said. then he turned to me, "if you're trying your best to die cause of a heart attack anyway."
I glared at him. for the first time, I saw his red orbs up close. eyebrows raised as his eyes looked at me condescendingly.
"it's a dish I reward for myself once in a while, it's not like I eat them everyday." I rolled my eyes.
feisty huh, Sukuna thought. well from the slutty outfits you wore over the span of 12 days, that confirmed his presumption that his row-mate may be a born and raised brat.
"and let me guess, you reward yourself once a week. so that's 4x the carbohydrates a month." he smirked as he grabbed a fry and chewed.
I scoffed at him. "I only eat them once a year, fuckass." the insult slipped through my tongue before I even thought of it.
his smirk grew wider. "easy. wouldn't want your blood pressure to act up now, do we?" he looked at me from head to foot, and back to my eyes again.
this guy ... !
I reached for the fork and basically stabbed the scallop itself and chewed it angrily—which was a big mistake.
it's the type of food that you delicately eat and savor in the mouth to fully indulge on all of itself.
to say his dish tastes good is an understatement. the fresh saltiness of the scallops is maintained oh so perfectly. it can even stand alone without the complementary sauce. but the sauce in itself is great too so, I can't decide to eat it with or without the sauce.
it's rare for a person with average cooking skills to prepare raw fish from scratch and not fuck it up. he's definitely beyond than that.
I can say, without a doubt, it goes up par with the michelin restaurants my family and I go to on my birthdays. I looked up at him, all 6 foot of him or maybe more, looking down on me expectantly.
after he taunted me? no, I won't give him that pleasure of a compliment.
I wiped my mouth with a tissue and coughed, standing up straight. "it's edible." I said with a curt, indifferent tone.
he scoffs and chuckles. god, what a sexy sound to the ears. I wonder what other sounds he can make-
"I judged yours fairly, energy should be the same." he crossed his arms.
"yea you're right. you gave a judgment, not constructive criticism." I bit back.
he squinted his eyes at me and tsks.
the instructor called our attention to wrap it up and gave us individual feedback sheets to give out to our partners in the end.
yeah, his food tastes delish but would I give my honest thoughts? no.
so you did what any petty, mean high school girl will do when they hate someone. tell lies.
we all wrapped our dishes to-go for our partners to take home. just as I locked the ends of the paperboard container, he dropped his onto my counter. with his feedback neatly folded and taped on top.
I gave mine to his but with the paper separated. he took it and left. the others left too but I stayed seated in my station, fixing my bag. but my impatient self couldn't wait to get home and read his note, so I scraped the end of the tape with my nail, and slid it off.
I unfolded the note.
woman def needs to cut on fatty foods.
Asshole!
Sukuna drove home and debated whether or not he should eat your food or feed it to a random dog. he can't deny, it's the best comfort food there is. but it's not like something is going bad in his life to scarf it all down.
should he? but his stomach was the one who made the decision as it grumbled when the scent of the steak wafted inside his car.
he gets home and transfers the dish to a clean, ceramic plate, and thinks, oh, it's hearty all right.
the steak is tender and savory. you didn't held back on the burger, it has all the ingredients needed. tomatoes, cabbage, cucumber, and with just teeny rings of chopped onion. you tried to make it healthy as possible, he'll give you that. and the fries, he can't help but eat it in between chewing. it's crisp on the outside and moist on the inside.
and just as he finished all of it down, he remembered your note.
he grabbed the paper from his pocket and unfolded it.
Well first off, the scallops look and feel that it's been poorly prepared. It seems like one of those you would buy at big franchise convenience stores that sells seafood rejects. Second, the egg is too runny. The scallop is the main show while the egg should stay as backdrop. Once you slice the egg, the yolk outshines the scallops' flavor. Maybe he's trying to play Gordon Ramsay and reinvent it to egg carpaccio. Don't even get me started on the white truffle sauce. It tastes like something that has been stored in an antique cabinet for a long time. He probably forgot to buy a fresh one and used it as last resort. The sad looking parsley also didn't help lighten my mood at all. the grass of my neighbor's front lawn would've been a better garnish. 2/10 - 😕
Sukuna lifts his head, tongue poking at his cheek as his mouth is slightly agape.
What a fucking bitch.
A/N: idk how many chapters im planning to go for and i also cant promise when chp 2 will be released 🥹
