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01zfan · 4 months ago

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supermarché

imaginary friend!sohee x ghost!reader | 8.2k words

i think my wonderful anon put this idea in my head. i ended up taking it a step further to kind of add another layer to this story. really sad but also really heartwarming to write. i definitely consider this to be a halloween fic. also i listened to the supermarché by king krule while writing this.

contains: reader dies at her place of work, sohee is anton's imaginary friend, talking about death and the afterlife, sex without a condom (imaginary friends and ghosts can't make babies. living human people can. you are not them so please have sex responsibly), semi-public shenanigans

You still don’t remember how you died. You imagine it was related to the overstock kept above the top shelves and your terrible habit of using the most dangerous method to get to things that were out of your reach.

But you could only guess. All you knew was that you were balancing on the cart used to hold items. You kept your balance the same way you always did, and waited for the aisle to empty just like you always did. Customers always stared you down and your coworkers always nagged you, but you knew how to do it. You just had to balance, feeling for the unstable wheels at the bottom of the cart and trying not to knock over the canned goods. You were balancing well, one minute you were looking at your outstretched hand reaching for the Goya Frijoles Negros and the next you heard the cans fall when the cart make a sudden left.

The next minute you woke up on the ground, eyes opening wide and fast. When your body shot upwards and you pulled in a deep breath everything was blurry, then there was a pounding at the base of your skull and a terrible cramp in your arm.

Even through the fog in your brain your hand instinctually went to the back of your head to rub out the pain. There was fear coursing through your veins, throbbing in the back of your skull, and the feeling of falling. Then there was nothing. You felt the absence of everything at once, feeling for something in the back of your head that no longer existed. The physical and mental feelings were gone so quickly you felt yourself run cold.

From your spot on the floor you noticed there was an absence of people too. There was no one around you, the empty dark aisle of the canned food section was the only thing surrounding you. You didn’t hear your team lead on the walkie or the sound of your coworkers shuffling around looking for product. No sound of the cash registers opening, or a customer asking for a price check. There was only the cold linoleum floors you, and the dented cans surrounding your body. Canned beans and corn made a scattered outline around your your body like a crime scene.

After that, it took you awhile to piece everything together. You wondered if your coworkers were playing a trick on your at first, or if you were having another nightmare of being at trapped work. You yelled out to somebody, anybody in the store just to be met with low volume of the music that perpetually played on the speakers. You pinched yourself, that usually worked. When you were still in the dark aisle you noticed that the song changed and the vegetable misters started spraying the fresh produce behind you.

You started stumbling through the maze of aisles, trying to remember the area surrounding you. You spent a majority of your waking days in this supermarket, you knew the different sections like the back of your hand. But suddenly, you couldn’t discern between your left or your right. You passed by the meat and fish section, you couldn’t find the exit even if it looked like it was right in front of you, and the time of day was so ambiguous you didn’t know if it was starting to get light or if it was beginning to get dark.

The more you wandered the more a disoriented haze settled over your mind and your limbs. The more you screamed out for someone the more quiet everything else became, the more you walked the more sluggish you felt. The rights and lefts you were taking through the aisles made bile rise in your stomach, and the sinking feeling that something was wrong made your heart drop. You yelled out that whatever your coworkers were doing to you wasn’t funny. You yelled it again when you were only answered with the a still dark building and the sound of machines whirring.

You swore you walked past the lighting encasement of the deli meats a million times. You saw the same brand of toilet paper over and over again despite only taking three lefts.

Everything was spinning now. One foot in front of the other. Asking the empty grocery store for help. Feeling that weird spot at the base of your skull. Your feet were beginning to drag, squeaking on the gray and white linoleum floor as you followed the sound of someone’s voice. Not towards the bright lights of the dairy section, but the sound of someone yelling on the phone. Your tired feet took you there, and the hand that was rubbing the spot on your head reached to your temple instead. You bumped into product hanging off the sides of the shelves. You were too preoccupied to do anything besides sticking out an apologetic hand behind you as you continued walking in the dark.

"I'll fix it later."

You said to yourself. You spoke loud enough like you were telling a coworker. You were always adamant about no one else cleaning up your messes. When you looked behind you to round the corner everything was still perfectly in place. You swore you heard something fall, but following the voice on the phone was more important.

When you rounded the corner you finally found the back of house. You leaned against the wall before leaning against the double swinging doors, opening up the chilled area and the concrete flooring. Shipments came through here, you knew that. Even if you couldn't find the high-lift garage door you knew that every Tuesday in the early morning there was a big white semi-trailer truck that came by and dropped off produce. This was where the managers office was, this is where you heard the sound of someone's voice. You continued to drag your feet against the concrete, heading towards the yellow light of your managers office. He always worked late. He always knew what to do.

By the time you made it to the managers office, you felt a tug that something was incredibly wrong. With a grip on the handle you tried opening it, groaning at the sudden lack of power in your body. Today wasn’t shipment day, but your manager leaned over the table as if he was doing the count for product. You felt weak as you pressed the side of your face against the glass, breathing heavy as you tried to remember why you were here so late. You remembered you had to go home and rest for your next shift as you brought a shaky hand to knock on the glass.

The turned back of your manager didn’t move to face you. He stayed there on the phone, head in his hands as he rubbed his temple. Your head started to feel like it was throbbing again as you massaged your temples the same way. Even when you knocked harder with your other hand he still didn’t budge.

Nobody could blame you for not knowing you were dead. There was no one on the intercom saying dead employee on aisle three, there were no nervous coworkers or nosy customers looking at your body. No one was there to scream that you were not breathing and that you hit your head in a shrill voice. All that was left that showed evidence of people were abandoned shopping carts in the aisle that you woke up in. Nothing sank in until your manager turned around to face you. He didn’t see your hand pressed against the glass, but he focused on the fog your panicked breaths were leaving in their wake.

You watched your manager walk closer and closer to the glass of the door, not looking at your face or into your eyes like he always did. He looked at the fog, like he was trying to figure out what it was. Both of your eyes cut to the tiny patch at the same time, and when you experimentally banged on the glass with all of your might, his eyes still did not move. His furrowed eyebrows only focused on the dissipating fog, and then he pulled away quickly when the low hum of someone on the phone brought his attention back to his desk.

After that, realization came relatively fast. Your inability to find the exit of the grocery store you knew the ins and outs of left you underneath the sterile lighting and the mist of the produce section. Still, there was a part of you that held out. Maybe your manager was really just ignoring you, maybe you were just having another realistic nightmare about work. You slept on the black mats in front of the misters, underneath the lights as you tried to wake yourself up from your terrible nightmare.

The next morning you woke up to your whispering coworkers. If it wasn't the fact that you weren't cold or dry despite sleeping under the misters, hearing your coworkers hushed retellings of the day before cleared everything up. You listened silently like you could've been heard as they talked about how immoral it was for them to work when you died the previous day.

Sohee had been with Anton his whole life. He wasn’t born the same way Anton was. Instead he materialized out of thin air, the manifestations of a lonely child coming to fruition. All Sohee knew was that he was bound to Anton, someone walking beside him that only he could see. Anton’s parents knew Sohee’s name as Ddori, with tight lipped smiles and nods of confusion as their son described a child who was not on the roster of his class. The kids on the playground found out who Anton was talking to as he played with the action figures in the sandbox by himself.

For a long time it was perfect. Sohee had fun with Anton, he liked playing games with him and being his friend. The child psychologist said that Anton would eventually grow out of needing him, that eventually Anton would make friends and Sohee would just become a distant memory. He remembers Anton looking over to where he sat in the corner to whisper that was not true, while his parents looked behind them to see who their son was talking to. Sohee nodded to Anton then, but he was made to be a realist. He lived each day with Anton it like it was his last.

He thought one day he would just turn into dust, or fade into oblivion when Anton didn’t need his imaginary friend anymore. But even when he stopped looking over his shoulder to find Sohee and he started making friends his age, Sohee never ceased to exist. Each day when Anton would wake up so would he. Even when Anton made real human friends and stopped playing by himself and stopped acknowledging Sohee all together he still was just there. He followed Anton like a shadow now, only feeling like his presence was known when Anton was especially scared or nervous.

When Anton got a job as a late night stocker in a grocery store Sohee’s words started getting through to him. He was meant to be there for Anton in the middle of the night, as a shoulder to lean on or someone to think about when he got spooked by the urban legend of the place. Sohee’s job made him the voice of reason, wandering around the place without a care in the world as Anton turned cans to be front facing.

“No one actually died here, Anton.” Sohee said aloud.

Anton nodded with music from his earbuds blasting in his ear. He stopped outwardly reacting to Sohee’s words a long time ago. Too many times was Anton accused of talking to himself. One day Sohee became his voice of reason rather than his imaginary friend. When Anton was properly comforted Sohee started walked in a circle in the aisle, trying to find a way to entertain himself for the next five hours. He could read the nutritional facts of the items Anton didn't turn around yet. That might kill him some time.

“Someone actually did die here.”

Sohee turns towards the voice at the end of the aisle. He looks to Anton fast, who turned up his music to the max volume until it bled out of his earbuds. Sohee stepped out, one slow foot in front of the other. The sound of his tennis shoes on the linoleum floor is the only source of sound. Then he sees you, laying on your back on top of the deli meat display case. He looks at you, half expecting you to be another late night worker neglecting your duties. But then you turn from the ceiling slowly to look directly at Sohee. He freezes. You stop swinging your feet. When you realize Sohee is really looking at you, you slowly get up. When Sohee realizes you're really looking at him he stands up straighter.

“You can see me?” Sohee asks first.

You nod. Sohee doesn't remember the last time he's seen someone react to his words. He doesn't remember the last time he asked a question.

“You can see me?” You ask second.

You sit up on the display case, legs dangling as your eyes get even wider. Sohee has never been seen before. He hasn’t had a conversation with a non-Anton person his whole life. You’re just as stricken, blinking at Sohee like you just can’t believe it.

“Can he see you?” He asked.

Sohee points towards the sounds Anton makes in his aisle.

“Not unless he gets really scared. In the beginning,” You stutter. “people used to say there was someone haunting this place. So late at night sometimes they’d see me a little bit or hear me.”

Sohee tries to figure out when in the beginning means, because the apron folded next to you looks different from the one Anton wears now. He thinks you look familiar, like he saw your picture hanging up somewhere or seeing your photo online when Anton was doing research about this place. Sohee is still silent, and you look down while gripping the sides of the deli meat casing with your hands. You try to think of something else to say and Sohee watches you kick your feet.

“They used to get so scared. Someone even quit in the middle of their shift once, you know.” You say.

Your feet start kicking for a moment as you smiled to yourself, like terrifying people was a good memory to you. Sohee understands, or he thinks he does. He remembers the joy he’d get when Anton would look at him instead of past him. Sometimes it's only be when Anton was particularly scared or lonely. Anton wrapped his arm around Sohees' when he was going through a haunted mansion last Autumn. Once he set his cello down on his bed pointed towards Sohee like he could play it. He imagines it’s the same thing, because Sohee would feel excitement at the sight of Anton's emotional turmoil. The acknowledgment through fear isn’t too far from acknowledgment through loneliness.

“But no one has seen me in a long time.” You say finally.

And when your feet stop kicking, Sohee realizes more time must’ve passed than you thought. The only thing that brings you out of it is motioning in the general direction where Anton makes noise in the other aisle over.

“Can he see you?” You ask.

Sohee looked to Anton. He lingered looking at him for a second, his unbothered state as he restocked shelves. Sohee shrugged his shoulders.

“Only when he wants to. I think.” Sohee says.

“Are you his…” You motion vaguely between Sohee and Anton.

“I’m his imaginary friend.” Sohee says aloud.

Explaining what he is to someone else is strange. Over the years he’s come up with a name for it, he’s seen enough movies and read enough of Anton’s books to know that’s what he is. But explaining it to someone else is foreign. The way you tilt your head to the side like you expecting him to be like you makes Sohee feel like he’s wrong.

“Like you don’t exist?” When Sohee nodded he watched you try to comprehend it. “Like at all?” You continued.

If Sohee hadn’t been contemplating this his whole life, he’s sure he would’ve had a more negative reaction. Maybe a snide remark about how you technically didn’t exist either, or have an existential crisis panic attack on the spot. But he’s had time to think about this, so much to the point that he only nods back to you. Yes he’s not real, but he can form his own memories. He's nothing like Anton, he doesn't speak like him or scare easily like him. He can talk but he's not always heard, he can do something as hard as he can but not effect anything in Anton's world. Not everything is linked to Anton, because he can see you clearly while Anton is unbothered.

Then, the two of you are nodding to eachother. The lack of human interaction is obvious, the conversation fell off with nowhere to go. Between a ghost who hasn’t spoken to anyone since she was alive and an imaginary friend whose only interaction is a boy pretending he doesn’t exist, you’re both hopeless. You just continue looking at Sohee and he continues to look at you, confused and not knowing what to do next. You pat the empty space on top of the display case next to you.

“Wanna sit up here with me?” You ask.

Now you look at him with amusement. You skipped past all the things Anton had to do to make friends. Anton didn't beckon to people like you didn't until he was in highschool, and he didn't look at people the way you were looking at Sohee until he got them alone. There's something Sohee was supposed to be able to pick up on, he's sure of it. Like the tilt in your voice or the way you didn’t move over to give him more space. He’s good at analyzing Anton’s interactions, seeing things for what they are so Anton could act accordingly. When it’s just for him, it’s harder. He hesitates, looking down the aisle to Anton before looking at you.

Like a kid being invited to play with your toys, Sohee gives in. He walks over to you and leaps up, ending up in the same spot you patted.

Maybe it was too close, because your thighs are touching at the same time you realize your bodies aren’t phasing through eachother. Like something between the two of you is tangible on top of the deli meat case, but unable to be seen by anyone else. Anton could leave the aisle and walk around but he wouldn't be able to see you. If anything he'd see Sohee, looking to the end of the deli case while leaning against a figure that wasn't there.

“Did you used to work here?” Sohee asks.

Sohee asks the question while pointing at the crumbled apron next to you. Sohee can't calm that feeling in his stomach until you look away. Still your bodies are pressed close together, even your feet brush when you both nervously start kicking them.

“Long time ago.” Sohee watches your eyes stay on the apron. His eyes go to the name tag at the very top, repeating your name in his mind over and over again. When your hands leave the edge of the display case to point at the ceilings he follows your hand. “Back before the roof caved in and when the font for everything was different.” You answer.

When you bring your hand back down you rest it on Sohee’s thigh. He feels that restlessness in his stomach again. Anton never talked about this uncomfortable feeling. Sohee never felt it before, and Anton never mentioned how to get rid of it.

“Did you like your job?”

Sohee doesn’t know how to not pry. He doesn’t know when there will be a time for him to talk to someone like this again. If he is crossing a boundary he doesn’t know, because you answer willingly. You almost look happy to reminiscence. The kick is back in your feet as you cock your head to the side, trying to recollect.

“It was a good gig. I liked my coworkers too.” You say.

Sohee doesn’t know why it’s so easy to put his hand over yours. Something so intimate is so simple and is done without a word. He’s never seen an interaction like this with Anton, or overheard stories like these with his friends. Nothing about the movement is simple, because that restlessness is turning into a rock in his stomach. It's not second nature because he can feel you freeze underneath him. Sohee just looks forward the same time you do, staring down the lines of aisles down to the fresh produce section.

“You know. I haven’t had anyone see me in a really long time.” You whisper.

If this was flirting, Sohee didn’t know how to respond. There was never something so hopeless in the innuendoes Anton would receive and give to the people he talked to. There was never something asa bold as your pupils already shaking as you got closer to him.

Sohee wishes he could be as amazed as you are at something as simple as thighs touching. Never in his imaginary friend-isms has he felt human emotions at such a complex level. He knew what it was like to reach out and touch Anton’s hand, or to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. But Sohee has never been on the receiving end of something so human. Something as juvenile as clothed thighs touching and feet grazing scandalous and unreal. He should scoot away, just to create some distance between a stranger, but he can’t. There's no unfamiliarity between you two, even if you don't know his name and he doesn't know when you died. He leans into you further and you invite him, letting your arms intertwine, then shoulders rub against eachother, then feet cross over.

“I almost can’t believe it.” You say.

“My name is Sohee, by the way.” He says.

You hum in acknowledgement as you two continue to press into eachother. You two are both discovering what it means to be real to someone, so caught up in it that you have surpassed being strangers.

You’ve been alone in this grocery store for too long, watching the people you used to know leave and be replaced. You’ve seen the tile of the flooring change, the food selection, the music on the speakers change. So many things have happened to you, but this is a first. Maybe it’s the fact that time is fleeting and you don’t even know what day it is anymore, but you’re eager. You turn to Sohee, biting your cold lips and pulling at his arms like you know him. Sohee is remembering the time Anton was in this same situation, with a person across from him trying to silently tell him the obvious.

Sohee knows Anton isn’t the type to stay work third shift. This job will get in the way of his studies or his music or his life eventually. He knows Anton is going to ask the manager nicely to change his shift to the daytime or leave the place completely. Sohee doesn’t know if ghosts haunting workplaces is common, and he doesn’t want to find out.

Sohee pulls your arms back, then your lips are pressed against his in seconds. He doesn’t know how to kiss, and you’re too pent up to be any help. Sohee just follows you, pushing his tongue into your mouth and then reeling back when you run out of breath. He pulls at you when you pull at him, and wraps a hand around your waist when you lean into him. He becomes so caught up, he even kisses the air when you part from him.

You slide down from the display case and before you can tell Sohee you want to feel real for just a little bit he’s sliding off behind you. He’s close to you, hands on your hips like you might float away.

Ghosts get horny. Just like they get sad or lonely or angry. You have seen a few hot customers in your time here, and you remember praying to God that they were scared enough to see you. But here’s someone in front of you, who reaches out and touches you while waiting for your next move.

“Am I being presumptuous?” You ask.

Your common sense comes back to you. Can ghosts and whatever Sohee is have hookups? Do rules of being whatever Anton is still bind you? At the very least you can ask for whatever this is quickly becoming to continue.

“Not at all.” Sohee answers.

So human expectations are null and void here. Spirits and imaginary friends can feel eachother up like it’s nothing, because that is essentially what they are. They don’t need to waste their time with introductions because they already understand everything about eachother. You don’t need to explain to Sohee that you haven’t felt someone else since you died, and he doesn’t need to tell you all of his experience begins and ends with whatever Anton has done. He just needs to keep following you to the place where you two can get privacy and a surface to lay on.

Sohee recognizes the office. He remembers how cold Anton was after he pushed past the swinging doors and how cold he was walking to the managers office. Inside was where Anton accepted his current job, sitting in front of the desk while Sohee stood in the corner. Anton looked towards him once when his boss said that he’d be working overnights. Now he’s being pulled through the door as you turn around, putting your hands on his waist to pull him closer.

“The new manager who works here is an asshole.” You say.

Sohee realizes then that you are stuck in time. As he continues to grow with Anton, you’re the same age you were when you passed away. You sound like a bratty young adult, getting back at the manager who probably replaced the one you used to work under. Sohee imagines that an employee dying under your care is not a good look, and probably traumatizing enough to make a person quit. Can you feel guilt? Guilt seems more viable than horniness. You’ve seemed to have been able to work out the complicated feelings of being dead because you’re essentially unbothered, pushing Sohee to the corner of the desk until he has to lean against it.

You press your forehead to his chin, pulling down at the the collar of his shirt with your index fingers. The gray fabric starts to stretch from the force, but you can’t be bothered as more of Sohee’s chest is exposed. One of his hands leaves the edge of the desk to grip at your waist. You continue pulling, until you can see the fabric strain and hear another thread tear.

You pull your face away from Sohee’s neck to look at his collarbones. He looks to tangible underneath the light, so real. Like you can really feel the cotton material of his shirt on the pads of your fingers, you can hear it rubbing across his skin. You can feel the textured fabric on your finger tips, different from the smooth metal cans and plastic layers on produce. You look at how his skin twitches, it leads you all the way to the Adam’s apple that bobs in his throat.

“Did you ever do this when you were—“ Sohee interrupts your examination. You look up at him, and he swallows again when he sees the way you look at him. Your chin rests rests on his chest for a moment, and as a reflex Sohee looks away. “Did you ever do this when you were—” He repeats.

“Alive?” You finish.

If you could recall anything, you don’t know if you’d be here right now. You don’t think non-virgins haunt their old place of work, looking for something while trapped in a permanent purgatory. On the lighter side of things, you don’t know if you could’ve ever expressed yourself like this when you were alive. Shame left you a long time ago. If you were alive you would’ve never said anything to someone like Sohee. At the very least you two would’ve exchanged shy greetings at the register while you spent the whole day overanalyzing everything about your interaction. Now, you are just depraved brought by the countless days of being unseen. This was the first time you felt perversion to the point of shamelessly touching and pulling at someone to the point of straining their clothes.

“I don’t really remember.” You say.

Sohee’s hand loosens on your waist. You quickly put your hand over his, clasping over it to make his hold on you stronger.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He apologizes.

“It’s okay Sohee.” You still examine him and pinch and prod at his skin. “Have you ever done this?” You ask.

Sohee’s entire existence had always been contingent on Anton. He’s always the perfect median to however Anton was feeling; if he was freezing Sohee was cool and if Anton was sweating he would only ever feel warm. Everything about Sohee was rooted in grounding Anton, even if he started ignoring his existence a long time ago. Sohee was uncontrollably the middle point of everything related to Anton, so he was perpetually stuck in a state of indifference. He didn’t know what it was like to feel so hot that sweat lined his back. Sohee didn’t think it would make such a difference to feel it. When you dragged your teeth against his collarbone he felt it. The gutters of internal temperature left him shivering underneath you. The feelings reserved for real humans was so violent it made Sohee shake against you.

“Is my body cold?” You asked.

Sohee opened his eyes when you spoke clearly. When he looked down at you, your eyes were wide from worry.

“I can never seem to get my body warm sometimes.” You said quietly.

When Sohee felt your body back away from his he lurched forward. He moved your hands back to his body, and wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you close. You were still against him, the angle he pulled you in at made you unable to move.

“I’ll warm you up.” Sohee says quickly.

He places an awkward wet kiss on your forehead. He swears he can feel you warming up in his hold. Your hands go back to pulling and holding Sohee again, reaching underneath his shirt to touch his bare body. When he draws in a breath from your cold hands making contact you hesitate again. Sohee pulls you closer, and he reaches his hands underneath the back of your shirt too. When you react the same way he kisses your forehead again, like he’s proving a point.

“I’ll warm you up.” He repeats.

He can feel your head nod before you turn to look up at him. Your eyes are blown out from lust now, and you preemptively lick your lips to let Sohee know what you want. Even when your lips are both numb from making out he still wants more. The way your tongue pushes past his lips the second time is so human, he feels alive when you breath hot air directly into his mouth. Neither of you can be bothered to pull away, stealing air from eachother through labored breathing.

Sohee is positive he can be here in this spot forever. Your body is hot to the touch now, and Sohee is feeling something he doesn’t even think Anton has felt before. He’s the real one among the pair, he thinks that Anton is wandering the aisles of the grocery store wondering why he feels so strange.

Sohee feels for the button on your jeans the same time you reach for his. Neither of you know what the other is doing, what you’re doing. You two are simply following the human urge to keep the good feelings going. He follows it until he pops the button at the top of your jeans and undoes your zipper. He feels you put your full bodyweight on his leg that’s slotted between yours when he makes it to the material of your underwear.

Although Sohee feels alot like a real human boy, he knows he’s still lacking in many ways. For the past twenty-one years of his life Anton has been the only person to know of his existence. Calling Sohee’s being an existence is also egregious, because being an imaginary friend literally means that he doesn’t exist. But he’s had twenty-one years to think about what it means to exist, so he’ll let himself say he exists for the sake of his sanity.

Sohee has never been acknowledged by another being, much less someone that understands what he is and what he goes through. He doesn’t know how to talk to non-Anton people because he never has had the chance to. When he found out you could see him, he stumbled over his words. Even now, with you kissing his neck and failing to undress him he doesn’t know what to do. He’s made it this far by your horniness and the fact that you two are essentially the only people in this world. He doesn’t know how to keep you engaged, or what to say that isn’t a line directly from the pornos Anton watches.

When you finally push the waistband of his jeans down far enough to put your hand experimentally over Sohee’s bulge, he doesn’t know what to do.

“You’re so real.” He sighs.

Sohee knows that dirty talk isn’t supposed to sound like that. He’s supposed to be confident and sultry, talking about how soft hands are and how sexy someone is. But he can’t stop himself from sputtering out the lie that you are an actual person.

He didn’t know that was the right thing to say. It makes you grind down on his leg and press harder into him.

“So are you.” You lie against his neck.

As if God can hear you, the moment you touch him beneath the belt your hands are ice cold. He stiffens underneath your kisses and your eyes go wide, but you are so close to where he needs you the most. So even when you hesitate Sohee sticks his hand in his pants to clasp over yours.

“It feels nice.” He assures.

Both of your hands together touch Sohee’s dick. He is almost positive he’ll be smooth like a Ken doll down there, because what reason would an imaginary friend need a penis for. He thanks God and he guesses Anton for blessing him with something that leaves you wide eyed and tugging him roughly.

Sohee feels something so strongly it’s like a hole forms in his chest. In a haste he takes his other hand off the edge of the table, leaving him without something to lean on. His full body weight is against the mahogany desk too quickly, knocking over the nameplate. You slide across with him as an effect, causing your heads to bump together.

The movement is clumsy, and it’s blatantly obvious you two are virgins by proxy. What can a ghost and imaginary friend do together? You can tell eachother how real the other one is, even if it’s a lie. Sohee can reach his hand down your pants—which he does—and think carefully about his next line.

“You’re so wet.” He says.

Another line that works, despite him not knowing why. Sohee feels you grip the edge of the mahogany desk, impatiently pushing down at your waistband before you do the same to his. Foreplay is for the living and breathing and people who haven’t waited a lifetime to be seen. You were inducted into the longest bout of celibacy by force, and you were not going to go another day without it. You pull your shirt over your head and Sohee follows suit. He steps out of his pants and you do the same. In just your panties and bra you crawl onto the desk, and Sohee is helping you. He clears the nameplate out of your way, he even puts his shirt under your head as a makeshift pillow.

"I can't believe it." He says.

All he did was get up on top of the display case. He didn’t think clothed thighs touching would lead him here. But still he pulls your waist to the edge of the table and you shimmy down, breath catching from the excitement. You prop yourself up by your elbows and look at Sohee, almost completely naked between your legs.

“Me neither.” You agree, looking directly at his dick.

Sohee realizes he’s keeping you waiting. His nerves don’t matter because you have been waiting for this a ridiculous amount of time, long enough for everyone you knew when you were alive to be gone and replaced with new people. The way you stare at him and the sterile lighting in the room makes this feel artificial. For a moment he wants to ask if you’re bound to this place. He could take you to Anton’s apartment, and you two could try doing this in the dark living room on that new couch he bought last week.

But that would require waiting, and Sohee already promised himself to not bring up your situation. So he makes a quick fix, turning on the office lamp and turning off the main lights. You watch him do it, eyes wide with curiosity before you smile.

“Setting the mood?” You ask.

“Just a little.” He answers.

The light is less harsh on Sohee as he pushes his boxers down. He sees your hands start to touch on your own body, small grazes to raise bumps across your skin and to fill the moments he doesn’t have his hands on you. Sohee comes forward, and just like a human he smacks his dick over the covered cunt.

Another right move. You somehow became even more impatient, because instead of taking your panties off you push them to the side, one hand collecting the fabric and the other propping your body up.

“Can’t wait.” You say.

Sohee nods and spits in his hand, another thing he remembers from all the pornos. He has to really know you because everything seems to be well received. You bite your lip watching him work the makeshift lube on his dick, and you edged closer to the end of the desk as Sohee came forward. He had to grip the edge of the desk when you reached for him, lining his dick up at your entrance. Should he ask you nicely if he should sink into you? Should he tell you that you’re pretty and if you were both real people you’d find your way to eachother to be in this very position? Or should he get philosophical, and tell you that circumstance put you two in this situation.

Definitely not the last choice. Maybe the first one. Sohee looks up from where you two are about to meet and sees that you are already staring right at him.

“Sohee.”

“Is this—”

“Please fuck me.” You interrupt.

Sohee can’t say anything else because you grab him by the arm and pull him forward, his tip pushes into you and you grip him so tight he feels pain for the first time in his life. If he could bleed crimson would be underneath your fingernails. He just seethes and continues pushing in, until the pain turns to relief and he has to hang his head forward to focus.

He knows he’s not stuck in you but he can’t move, everything in him tells him to stay in this position with you forever. Sohee’s hips don’t move until your hand pushes at his waist, then pulls so he’ll slide right back in.

“You’re soooo warm.” Sohee says quietly.

“Good.” You lift your hips from the edge of the table in an effort to fuck yourself further on Sohee. “I’m glad.” You sigh.

Sohee is sighing too. His shallow thrusts meet you perfectly in the middle, and when you guide his hand to press into your lower stomach you both sigh again. The feeling of your wrapped around him is tight and warm, so warm that Sohee feels sweat lining his skin for the first time in his existence. Even if the office is cold and desolate, he still feels so much heat he almost starts panting.

You’re pulling at his hand over your stomach, pulling it up further and further until it rests on your chest. Sohee is too focused on you pulsing around him to notice you changing the position of his hand over and over. Like you’re looking for something Sohee lets his hand be dragged across your chest. He doesn’t grab at your soft skin, he lets his palm be laid flat over your ribcage. Sohee uses one of his hands to press the back of your thigh, bringing it closer to your chest. You gasp and arch your back from the desk, and Sohee finally notices where you made his hand rest.

He doesn’t feel the rapid beat against his hand, despite both of you moaning and sweating. He knows what should be there, there’s been moments in Sohee’s time where he’s been able to hear Anton’s nervous heart thudding in his chest. But even then, when Sohee placed his hand in the same place you were pressing his, he didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t expecting to have a heart, he didn’t have blood and for all he knew he didn’t have a brain either. An empty vessel, the same way you are empty now. He’s never needed a second opening like you seemingly do. Even if your eyes are glazed over from the feeling you still fiend for proof of life. He understands, he really does. If he knew what it was like to be alive he doesn’t think he’d ever let it go.

Even though you are on the same level of not real as Sohee is, he would consider himself to be luckier than you. He’s not bound to this place the same way you are. When Anton gets off of work Sohee will go home and live just like a person. You’re going to go back to laying on the display case of the deli meats, waiting for someone to get scared enough to see you.

He wants to take your mind off of your circumstance, even if it’s not for long. Like it’ll fix anything Sohee doesn’t mention your lack of a heart but goes for your chest instead, gripping and pinching your nipple until your back arches off the desk again. He pinches harder and a whine falls from your cracked lips. He sees your tongue poke out and feels your hand clasp over his. You’re so warm, he wants to tell you again but he knows it would only lead to you thinking about how cold you are permanently. Sohee just presses your thigh closer to your chest until you writhe from the stretch.

“So tight.” Sohee says.

He has to tilt his head back when you seize around him again. Something so good only being reserved for real people is not fair. He doesn’t know how long he can go without feeling this way again.

Sohee feels you pull at him and again he become malleable. Instantly he lets his body become flush to yours, sweaty fronts glued together. This was the part where your heartbeats were supposed to sync. Instead you run your hands down his back. You’re fingernails were supposed to leave welts and scratches in their wake. Sohee remains unscathed, but still he hisses. He doesn’t know if it’s the phantom pains or if he’s doing it for your sake, but he still feel’s something. He presses harder into you as you wrap your legs around his waist. You push him in further, deeper than he thought was possible.

Now Sohee is helpless. His hand that was pawing at your chest before is clenched beside your head. He’s panting into the crook of your neck, and his breath is warm and fans your skin. He hopes you’re building a fever the same way he is because he’s burning up in the best way possible. He prays he doesn’t feel hot to contrast your cold skin, and he hopes by some weird paranormal math equation like PEMDAS he’s warming you up too.

He reasons with himself he’s trying to warm you up when he starts sucking on the skin of your neck. He knows by all means he should be leaving a mark at the junction of your neck. He licks and bites and sucks, until you whine underneath him and he feels more pseudo-pain on his back. But each time he pulls back to see the progress he’s making, there’s nothing there. You’re skin is unsullied, and Sohee almost feels embarrassed for trying so hard.

“I’ll pretend you left a mark.” You breathe below him.

Sohee still leaves a mess. Your skin is shiny with spit, and if he squints he can see the indent of his teeth from when he pressed them into you. He wants to reach lower, until he can latch onto the side of your chest that he neglected earlier but your hands on his back keep him in place. He almost fights against your grip but gives in, letting your chests and stomachs press together as he starts rutting into you. You looked fucked out, eyes glazed and Sohee has to press his face to the side of yours to ground himself.

“I think I might.” Sohee pants right into your ear.

“Me too.” You say.

You’re legs wrap around him tighter and Sohee is almost worried. Worrying is for humans, consequences are for them too. The two of you can do whatever you want, when you want, with whoever is just like you guys. So Sohee doesn’t offer to pull out, and you don’t loosen your legs around his waist. You hold him and pull him deeper and closer, the only difference is that you maneuvered your hand into the mix. Now Sohee is fucking into you the same time you rub tight circles on your clit, making you seize and pulse around him even more. The feeling is blinding. He’s whimpering in your ear and you’re nearly crying from euphoria in his.

How did you two get here? Sohee was sitting on the deli meats with you just twenty minutes ago, finding out what it was like to be touched. Now he was standing between your legs, body to body with you.

Just like those messy hookups Anton’s friends are always talking about, you both finish and go silent. Sohee came first, his impatient hips only rutting against yours a few more times before he froze above you completely. You can shortly after, telling Sohee to join you in rubbing the tight circles before you held him at such an angle it made his hand cramp. He worked through the pain because pain is relative to him, and then gravity weighed heavy on the both of you. Sohee’s body slumped on yours and your legs dangled over the edge of the desk.

Sohee doesn’t move until you move first. You pick your head up from the desk, looking past the window before you tapped his shoulder. Sohee lifted his heavy head to follow your pointed finger.

“Your friend is off of work for the day, I think.” You said.

Sohee watched Anton walk by the closed door again with his apron off. He realized that a whole graveyard shift escaped him while he was here with you. You slip out from under him and put your clothes back on, and Sohee has to follow your lead. He still feels weak like a real person, and sleepy like something human transpired between the two of you. He’s in a daze and you’re the same way, stumbling on your legs as you pull your pants up your legs.

“That was fun.” You hand Sohee his clothes. He feels unsettled, and he knows that Anton is probably looking for him. “Maybe next time your human is here we could do something like this again.” You say.

Referring to Anton as his human makes Sohee feel like he has some sort of control. Like Anton is an extension of him instead of vice versa. You still refer to this place as yours, even though you haven’t worked there in years. Something about moving on but owning your circumstances. Things Sohee is going to ponder until he sees you again. Unless Anton decides this job is too scary and quits.

“Yeah.” Sohee hold his clothes in his lap and smiles at you. “That would be nice.” He says.

#01zfan: sohee #sohee smut #riize smut

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