the sky high club (oneshot | sukuna) (MDNI: 18+)
12 hours. A cramped economy-class airplane seat. A tall stranger who’s taking too much of your leg space. You didn't plan on him falling asleep on your shoulder. And you definitely didn't plan on what happened under that blanket. But sometimes, the best things happen at 40,000 feet, when your oxygen-deprived brain leads you to the best orgasm of your life.
cw: mdni, 18+ only. sukuna x f!reader, strangers to lovers, smut, public sex, airplane sex, slight dub-con, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, praise kink, modern sukuna, au sukuna, mild humor, germaphobe reader, reader has OCD, soft sukuna
You were not excited to sit on a 12-hour flight scheduled for two hours from now. Not even a little bit. So right before takeoff, you popped three melatonin gummies, chasing them with overpriced orange juice to get some Vitamin C before the dry cabin air potentially triggered your allergies again. You couldn’t wait to knock out in the aircraft, and you were hoping no one would disturb you either.
You were a window seat gal, duh. The very private nook you could create, with your head nested against the “headboard” (plane window) and your knees tucked into your chest (which would put your physical therapist into a coma), was reason enough. It was the only way you could justify trying to hold in your pee for hours because you refused to use public toilets.
As you triple-checked that your passport was indeed in your pocket and scanned your boarding pass with a fake smile at the flight attendant, you didn’t hesitate to quickly stash your carry-on overhead and launch yourself into your window seat. You put on your eye mask to ignore the world (especially whoever was going to be seated next to you) because you frankly didn’t want to know. As long as it was not a screaming child, you’d survive.
You could still hear people boarding the plane, but you couldn’t be arsed to peek out from your silk eye mask. You could feel the judgmental stares of passersby, scoffing at how comfortable you’d made yourself already with the thin, flimsy blanket the aircraft provided. But who the fuck would really remember your Hello Kitty eye mask and Hello Kitty tracksuit?
A few moments later, you felt a breeze beside you. Great. The middle seat. You peeked through the slight gap in your eye mask to see a tall man, around 6’4”, his face hidden by an oversized hoodie, settling into the seat next to you.
Oh hell no. He’s going to take all the leg space. Fuck this shit.
As the plane ascended, and the melatonin kicked in, you really tried to drift off.
You jolted awake, irritated. The person next to you kept moving, adjusting, disturbing your precious nap. You ripped off your eye mask, ready to glare at them–
The man’s hoodie was gone now, and in its place was a black T-shirt stretched impossibly tight over muscles that looked like they'd been carved from stone. His biceps were the size of your thighs, and you did work out (imagine how big they were). Grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and you could see the outline of…
Stop. Stop looking. You're being a creep.
You tried to steal a glance at his face, just a quick one, and..
Holy jackpot. He’s got a face card too. He swung his head towards you as you quickly darted your eyes away, only to realize he was trying to take in the panoramic views from outside the window.
“I’ll open the shutter completely. Wait,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them.
He just looked at you briefly and didn’t answer. But once you opened the screen, he leaned in just an inch closer to really take in the view. You could now smell his woody, musky scent, and it felt like you just ascended to heaven. Something expensive, probably. Or maybe just his pheromones.
Your heart was palpitating, and your melatonin gummies were doing jack shit anymore, failing to calm your nerves. But you tried to play it cool and just shut your eyes as he remained leaning over.
You must have eventually slipped into a small nap, because the next thing you knew, you felt the weight of a heavy head on your shoulder. You opened your eyes to see the buff dude next to you, sleeping.
You couldn’t move from his sheer force. But you were not opposed to it either. You lowkey liked it? Something about a big, muscular man seeking comfort from a barely-five-foot woman made something warm pool in your stomach. He smelled so good this close. Not just perfume, but something primal, alerting every sense in your body. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, accompanying the steady rise and fall of his chest.
You're literally having the horniest thoughts about someone whose name you don't even know. Get a grip.
As the food carts arrived, this man jolted awake. The fuck? Was he not asleep? Turns out even the deepest of sleepers wake up once there’s the smell of mediocre airplane food wafting through the air.
You ordered the chicken meal.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am, we've just run out of the chicken! Would you like the lamb instead? It's the only meat option left."
"No… I don't eat red meat," you said, disappointment coloring your voice.
"I'll switch with her," the man said, handing you his untouched chicken meal and pulling the lamb tray toward himself.
You stared at him, dumbfounded. He'd just given up his meal for a stranger. Although, a ‘stranger’ who'd been mentally undressing him for the past hour.
"Thank you," you managed. "You really didn't have to…"
"Eat," he said. It wasn't a suggestion.
With everyone around you hungrily scarfing down their airline meals, you decided to watch a movie to pass the time. The map screen was just pissing you off anyway, with how slowly the plane symbol moved across the map.
God, my back hurts already.
The man next to you was drifting off again, this time, unfortunately, sleeping upright. You momentarily glanced at his screen to see it was completely turned off. Not even the flight map.
Now, a sane person would just enjoy the movie they’re watching, but you noticed an even greater view. The black screen perfectly reflected his sleeping face.
A couple of strands of pink hair were falling across his forehead, which didn’t seem to bother him (you did have an urge to tuck them back in). His eyes were slightly open, and you couldn’t help but notice his red eyes and long lashes, casting a faint shadow on his cheekbones. His nose. Oh my. His nose was slightly crooked but had a sharp bone structure. (You know what Doja Cat says about big noses)
And just when you thought this man didn’t just look like your exact type on paper, his sharp, clean-shaven jawline was the final bingo slot. You hated facial hair on men, and this guy seemed to not prefer it either. You almost instinctively wanted to caress his jaw. Just to see if it felt as smooth as it looked.
Yo, are you done? What is wrong with you today?! Thirsting over someone you haven’t even said hi to.
Well, why haven’t I said hi yet…
As if the timing could NOT be any worse, your bladder was not having it today. You really did not want to use the airplane washroom, but any more waiting and you’d have the whole plane staring at your pissed pants.
The problem? You’d have to wake the brute up next to you, and the old man next to him as well. Ugh.
Shyly, you tugged on his shirt once. That didn’t work. You poked his side deltoid next, impatiently, and he jolted awake, glaring at you.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I really need to use the bathroom."
He didn't say anything. Just nodded and leaned back as far as his seat would allow (which wasn't very far, because airplane seats are basically medieval torture devices).
But as your weak legs were still recovering from an insane leg day at the gym yesterday, you unexpectedly slumped onto him while trying to squeeze past him.
"Sorry! Didn't mean to!" you shrieked, while sitting on his fucking lap, wiggling to get up.
He just sat there, mumbling something that sounded like "don't worry about it."
You tried to get up, using the seat for leverage, but you were about to kick the old man in the aisle seat instead.
Large hands gently gripped the space right above your hips, steadying you.
"Next time," he said, voice low, "I'll just step out."
You nodded, cheeks burning. The sudden physical contact had sent a shiver through your entire body.
The pee break was quick, trying not to let your germaphobia get to you, washing your hands, and then sanitizing them. Opening the door latch, and then sanitizing them again.
When you returned, the middle-seat man was already out of his seat, waiting to let you back in. The old aisle man had apparently used your trip as an opportunity to take his own bathroom break. The cabin was dark now, most passengers asleep.
You settled back into your seat, trying to focus on your movie.
He'd taken some of your leg space while you were gone.
You spread your legs open, stretching dramatically, twisting from side to side. Assert dominance. Show him who's boss. He can’t manspread like this.
And then your eyes drifted down.
Oh, my god. Am I imagining things?
One of those stretches led to your eyes noticing a distinct bulge in his grey sweatpants. A large bulge. Even in the dim cabin light, you could see it. It was too obvious.
You felt heat creep up your face, settling somewhere in your stomach. The clumsiness from earlier. The accidental lap-sitting. All of it led to this.
He's hard. Because of you.
You tore your eyes away, trying desperately to focus on the movie, whose plot you didn’t even absorb anymore. The pixels blurred together. You couldn't concentrate on anything except the warmth radiating from his side of the armrest.
“I think you have my blanket.”
His voice startled you, as he was poking the side of your head while you were still slightly red.
“Hmm?” you answered, only to look down at your side to see you had somehow taken his blanket alongside yours.
"Sorry!" You quickly tucked it out from under you and draped it over his lap.
Without thinking. His lap.
He stared at you, one eyebrow raised.
Shit. Does he think I'm a creep?
"How kind of you," he said dryly, "to drape it that way. You're the reason I'm struggling to hide my dignity anyway."
Oh, no. He noticed you looking.
Under the sleepy effects that were now fully kicking in from the gummies and the darkly lit cabin, you had the sickest, most unhinged, shameless thought creeping into your mind. Your right hand slowly settled up on his armrest, now sitting awkwardly on top of his forearm, waiting for him to pull away, but he didn’t.
“Need some help? With that?” you asked after minutes of your hands just lying against each other.
"Is this your way of apologizing?" His voice was low and dangerous. He didn't meet your eyes and just kept staring ahead at his screen.
His forearm shifted, his palm opening to let his fingers play idly with yours. Calloused. Warm. Perfect. He was into it.
You could feel the heat building in your core. You glanced around to see if anyone was awake or suspicious of you both in any way, but the coast was clear. The stewardesses seemed to have also returned to their sleeping beds for the long flight.
The public environment made it ever so thrilling, as you slowly slid your right hand down from the armrest to his core. Under the blanket, you couldn’t tell where your hands were going until you felt his rock-hard abs, flexing intentionally to let you feel the hard work of his gains. The outline of his length, straining against his sweatpants, practically slappingagainst your fingers.
You paused momentarily to look at him again to get his approval to go further with a soft “May I?” and he nodded, trying to hold his expression, but he was clearly squirming already, jaw clenching harder.
Your fingers found the edge of his waistband.
No underwear. How lewd. How convenient.
Your hand slid under the cotton fabric, and you wrapped your fingers around his length. He gasped – a soft, almost inaudible sound.
"Shhh," you breathed against his ear. "You'll wake everyone up."
"Brat." His voice was barely a whisper, rough and ragged. "Don't act like you haven't been planning this since you were staring at my face like a hungry kitten on that screen."
He’d noticed you admiring his face all along. "So." He turned his head, lips brushing your ear. "Like what you see?"
You squeezed his length in response. Your fingers began gliding slowly, deliberately, over his pre-cum slick cock, moving from the base all the way until your thumb met his tip, sliding over that slit, and the sensation made him let out a choked moan.
His own hand flew to cover his mouth.
“Tell me if my grip feels good, yeah?” you ask, whispering in his ear.
You kept moving, your rhythm steady. Your faces were practically glued to each other now, mere inches apart. His forehead came to rest against yours, hot breath fanning across your face. The tension between you was unbearable. You wanted to kiss him, wanted to devour him, but you couldn't risk it.
Suddenly, the same hand that rested on his left armrest was now under his blanket to meet yours. It engulfed your fist and began guiding it to pump his length harder. It felt oddly romantic. Holding hands to collectively help him reach climax. With every twitch of his length and slight jerk of his hips against your hand, you knew he was close. And instead of edging him like you wanted to, you decided to take care of him before anyone became suspicious.
He involuntarily spilled warm spurts of fluid onto your hands, both of your hands, his sweatpants, which were definitely stained now, and the blanket, which you’re sure would have been a dead giveaway if it wasn't black in colour.
As if it couldn’t have been more lewd, you swiftly brought your hand up to lick each of your fingers clean, smiling at him with a devious grin as he shuddered.
“You little brat,” he said, as his eyes traveled towards your lips, making an expression that could only be described as painful. “I want to kiss you so bad,” he said.
You giggled. “How unfortunate. If only it were just us two.” And there it was. An idea that he wasn’t expecting you to put into fruition. Well, sorta…
“You know, we could…” he said, motioning towards one of the washrooms.
You bit your lips, slightly shocked by his response. As much as you wanted him to bend you over and fuck you senseless, your germaphobe soul couldn’t tolerate getting pleased in the midst of a public toilet, and that’s what you told him too.
“What kind of germaphobe licks their fingers clean after–”
“Shh.” You said, trying to dismiss his very logical question.
“Let me take care of you, still.” He looked at you with a devious smirk this time.
“No–” you opened your mouth to decline, but before you could get a word out, his hand slid down to your jeans. His fingers found the button and undid it with practiced skill. Then they were inside, finding your black, lace panties. To the unsuspecting eye, it would probably just look like 2 people shifting around in their seats for space, but you knew what was about to go down, and your heartbeat grew rapidly.
"You're already soaked," he murmured, amused. "For me?"
You glared at him, but it lacked any real threat.
His hand travelled up, under your shirt, slowly, until it met the underwire of your bra. He raised an eyebrow, implying a silent question. He hummed at you to ask if you’d like him to go any further, and you nodded, still biting your lower lip to not let any moans from escaping your lips.
His left hand slid under your bra, kneading one breast until your nipple hardened under his calloused touch. He pinched, rolled, and you bit your lip harder to keep yourself from moaning.
Then his hand was back down, and he laughed, a rich, dark sound.
"All wet for me," he breathed. "Good girl."
And his praise almost made you want to jump off the aircraft in excitement.
His index finger played with your swollen clit through the thin fabric of your panties, which was pointless, really, since your wetness made the lace cling to every dip and curve, making it more lewd by the minute. He started stroking, up and down, then circling. He switched rhythm every few seconds, teasing your clit, building you up with another finger, and letting you fall.
You glared at him in response, as he stole the growing sensation from the sudden detour toward his destination. He delivered a gentle slap to your pubic bone in response. "Patience, princess."
Your panties were slid aside, and then it was just his bare fingers against your bare folds.
“Tell me what you want,” he asked.
“I want you to… make me–” your voice was breaking off, cracked from how parched you were.
“I can’t hear you? Who does this sexy pussy belong to?” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear this time.
“Fuck..I–” you responded breathlessly, "You. It belongs to you. Just please–"
He slid two fingers inside you, fucking you relentlessly. In and out, in and out. He withdrew for just a moment to lube them with his spit, then plunged them back in. His thumb circled your clit while his fingers worked you open, and you lost yourself in the sensation.
No man had ever been this skillful with his fingers.
You came hard, body shuddering violently, barely able to contain your moans. He covered your mouth with his other hand to drown out the noise. He kept pumping through the orgasm, drawing it out, and when you finally came down, he used a tissue from his pocket to clean you up.
How polite. Even after fucking a stranger.
The rest of the flight was fairly uneventful. Besides his death grip on your thigh, you latched onto his bicep as you slept. He’d tell you his name, his age and life details that you should know before their fingers are inside you. Surprisingly, he was just a year younger than you, and even shared hobbies that you could talk about once you had your numbers exchanged. His name was Ryo, which you later searched on LinkedIn to find was actually ‘Ryomen’. You had a history of dating people with unique names, so it was almost a sign this was meant to go somewhere.
You’d talked about your shared love for the gym and travelling the world. It was canon. You loved to cook; he loved to eat. He loved to clean; you loved to come back to a neat place that wouldn’t trigger your germ OCD. You loved cats, and he was immediately accepted by your cat Mimi as she nestled into his neck, as if they were long-lost companions. You just fit together like puzzle pieces…
But when all your friends asked how you met, the answer was always the same drafted lie you both would say.
"He swapped his meal for me, and our conversation just flowed from there."
And he'd say: "She helped me that day. I was in a bad mood, but her playful touches and bright personality made me feel… seen."
all art from Pinterest: Redbubble, Tmie and Edith Guitérrez
tell me why i was giggling, kicking my feet typing this one out??? the things i would do to have an accidental encounter with soft sukuna irl. let me be delusional. also, poor old man in the aisle seat T_T
imagine him returning from the washroom just to have to see two freaky adults getting it on while he has to pretend to be asleep.
