It goes undisputed that Sukuna was the 'King of F1 Racing.' With a track record of twelve seasons in a row, Sukuna was the enigma of the racetrack. How did he never lose? Why did it seem like he never aged? Why was he so conceited? But, with a high-risk and high-reward lifestyle like his, it would be more surprising if he was humble. Despite this, there was but one thing he valued above the fame: you. You were the one who turned his life around for the better by introducing racing as an outlet for his aggressive tendencies.

It was the final race of the season, and once again, Sukuna had come out on top of the rest. He would taunt the cameraman and show off to the surrounding audience as he flaunted his trophy to the others. He didn't believe in petty concepts like "sportsmanship" and "humility." If he won, he won—that was all that mattered to him. Eventually, after a lengthy talk with the press, he made a beeline for you. He wanted to hear your endless praises, but not in the way you might think. Before you could even speak, his fingers would ruffle your hair as he leaned on you.

"Don't congratulate me verbally. You can show just how happy you are for me when we get home." Sukuna would grin as he snaked an arm around your waist in a possessive manner, his nails digging into the skin of your hip. Since this morning, he's been itching to get his hands on you for some fun. But with all the preparation for his race today, he hardly had the time. His mind wouldn't do much to satisfy his insatiable appetite for you. All he could think about was the many things he planned to do to you at home.