⊹ ♡₊˚๑ 𝙀𝘼𝙏 𝙔𝙊𝙐𝙍 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙍𝙏 𝙊𝙐𝙏 ! ⊹ ♡₊˚๑
chef!Sukuna headcannons
okay. I know I haven't posted anything in like a year. and I know I'm a little rusty so bare with me ok😭 I'm sorry for the wait! Reader was intended to be black but I don't describe any features.
lmk if I should turn this into a fic!!
Warnings: none!!
Chef!Sukuna is one of the world's biggest assholes. SURE he graduated top of his class AND SURE! The waitlist for his restaurant is so, ridiculously long. But his personality? Awful.
He’s known for his near godly knife skills. He can chop an onion in ten seconds. He’s pretty sure it’s a world record.
His own staff is so, so terrified of him. The new kid, who’s bright-eyed and fresh out of culinary school, who was beyond excited to work at a Michelin-star restaurant quits on his first day.
(he cried on his walk home)
Sukuna leans into the back of his chair, while Uruame lets out an uncharacteristically loud sigh from their spot at the door.
They step closer into the room while speaking, “You can’t keep a Junior chef for more than six hours—”
Sukuna groans, “Calm down— your job is to be my sous. Act like it.”
He puts his feet up on the peeling wood desk in front of him, deftly ignoring several receipts that were strewn on it.
Uruame nods, before leaving.
Sukuna wasn’t in the wrong you know, the junior chef should’ve known the difference between sauté and panfrying.
He groans while moving to leave his office— he had prep to do.
He’s worked hard to get where he is— to make his restaurant as good as it is. He designed the kitchen himself. He chose each appliance meticulously and placed them in the space deliberately
The delivery and food-prep and pastry sections are in specific parts of the kitchen, they cater to the menu.
Speaking of the menu. You cannot tell me that he didn’t lock himself in his apartment with pots and pans strewn everywhere.
He’d have a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and his hair would be a little dishevelled
But, he finally figured out that what his main dish needed was an acid.
He’d have a rare, genuine smile on his face while he runs his hand through his hair. He’ll take another bite and excitedly drum his fingers on his kitchen countertop. He’s good. He knows he’s good.
Sukuna’s leaning on the host station with a pencil in hand reviewing the guest list for that night’s dinner. His eyebrows raise at your name— which is circled in red marker angrily. He shouts to Uraume, who’s at the back prepping.
“What’s the red marker for.”
“We have a food critic coming in tonight.”
Sukuna scoffs, “We always have food critics coming in.”
“This one’s different.”
Yeah right.
For the head chef, and owner of a michelin star restaurant— Sukuna is relaxed.
He’ll wear a white button up and some black slacks and the days he’s expected to work front of house. But his sleeves will be rolled high on his forearms and there’s always this dismissive look in his eyes
He doesn’t have to be some kiss ass— his food speaks for itself.
People waited months to get into his restaurant for his food, not to have a conversation with him.
The first thing Sukuna realizes is that you take a laughably short time looking at the menu. From what he can see from the host station, you’re looking at it out of graciousness than necessity.
He walks over, ready to take your order. He nearly laughs when he notices that your notepad already has writing on it.
You’re looking up at him through the low light of the restaurant. It’s tinged red. Like a night club you think. Tacky.
“Hi,” You smile, “I’m surprised I’m being served by the Sukuna.”
“Yeah— it’s a slow day.”
You hum, “And here I was, thinking that you were out here just for me.”
He laughs. It’s this loud, low and smoothe. “I can hear your heart breaking from here.”
“Let’s start with the focaccia.” Your voice is a little shaky. He likes the sound of it.
He walks to the kitchen with a familiar grin on his face.
Food critic his ass— you’re in love with him. He can tell.
Chef!Sukuna who’s never had a negative review. Ever.
GQ. The New York Times. The Washington Post. Critics become regulars— they want an excuse to chat Sukuna (even if he doesn’t entertain it)
He’s earned a name for himself in the food scene, you know. People love him whether they like it or not.
This was just the start too— he’ll open more restaurants, maybe something more formal. He thinks of himself as an immovable object or an unstoppable force or whatever is in those management books Uraume reads
So, imagine his surprise when Uruame forwards an article to him at 11:54 pm on a thursday.
Especially when he sees that you wrote the article.
And that you gave the restaurant a 3 out of 5
A three out of fucking five.
Sukuna was going to kill someone. You, preferably.
461 notes
·
View notes