Choi San Imagine - Tumblr Posts
apple pie - san (m)
part of the frat boy series, kinda.
summary: exboyfriend!san. the cocky frat boy you dated in college might be the love of your life, but you’re not telling him that. if he wants anything from you now he’s gotta work for it, and he’s looking for a 9 to 5 in getting you back.
word count: 11.5k
warnings: san is insufferable and i’m obsessed with it, hope u are too. smut, afab reader, oral (f&m receiving), unprotected sex!!, creampie, 69 oops, very sweet tho
masterlist
Keep reading
Reacting to best friend!San's thirst traps
Warnings : swearing, suggestive af
A/N : This man. Just. This man. Enough said. I don't think anything else needs to be said.
⚠️Minors do NOT interact with this au⚠️
Part 1
@mxnsxngie @maeleelee @lethallyprotected @eastleighsblog @abbiestearsricochet @berryblog @th3melthatfell @weird-bookworm @randomwimp @dreamingaboutjisung @the-lemon-boy @choisoorin @minhoino @retromalum @junebug032 @comingupwithacoolnameishard
u got it bad - san (m)
summary: baseball player!san x reporter!reader. you've been covering your local team for years. the players, the coaches, everybody knows you. except for newbie choi san. he just joined the team, but he knows you from somewhere...maybe the bar last night?
word count: 14.5k
warnings: lots of baseball jargon, afab reader, sex (some protected some not), thigh riding, oral (barely. m receiving tho), a little cockwarming
masterlist
you love your job. as a kid, you always dreamed of working here, walking into this stadium every day, and doing what you loved most. granted, back then you were imagining yourself as one of the players, but oh well. a girl can still dream, right?
you landed the job as sideline reporter for your favorite baseball team right out of college. they wanted someone willing to stick around for a while, and you recall telling them in your interview, "if i start working here, you'll never be able to get rid of me." they loved it, and they loved that you were a hometown supporter. it made your stories more meaningful, gave you a point of view that fans could appreciate. you were able to write touching pieces on the players, give the season the dramatic arc on camera that it deserved, and you treated everyone at the team with respect. that respect went both ways, with the players, coaches, front office staff...everyone knew who you were and included you as if you were a part of the team.
you had to work hard for that respect. it didn't take long for you to prove yourself, but it did take several sleepless nights and countless overtime hours to become the reporter you are. you know everything about this team, and that's what makes you so good.
because you know eveything, you obviously know that they're close to signing star right fielder choi san. you've heard talk that it's basically done, he flew in this morning and is set to sign his contract first thing tomorrow. of course, you had memorized his past work jumping around the league as soon as the rumors started. it was your job, after all, to know these things. you knew he was great on the field, that was easy, but everyone loved him in the dugout. he's the kind of player that remembers everyone's names, brings gifts for the team around the holidays, asks about your family when he sees you. he's a stand up guy, you hear.
you've also heard that he likes to play the field outside of the stadium, if you catch my drift. he's very popular with the ladies in whatever city he deems to call home for that season, and as you walk through your favorite bar outside the stadium, you can tell the women here already know choi san is close by.
one thing you do not know is that san is in this bar, right now. yes, he's signing his contract tomorrow, but he wanted to visit the stadium today, when it was still quiet. he likes getting the feel of a team before he joins, so he wandered around the empty stadium a few times before coming here to clear his head. upon entering, he sees his face plastered on all the tvs as espn does a deep dive into what his move here might mean. he thought he was screwed, that people would immediately notice him, but so far so good. he's got a nondescript cap on and dark sweats, so he hopes his booth in the corner is enough to keep him hidden while he has a celebratory pint. he doesn't report to training until day after tomorrow, so he thought he could treat himself tonight.
as he sits and drinks, soaking in the atmosphere, he has to laugh. he wants to stay hidden, but really, with his likeness and his entire career plastered on every screen above the bar, you'd think someone would know. at least look at him and make a comment about the resemblance. but it doesn't seem like anyone here knows a thing.
except you. as you sit at the bar, swirling the straw in your glass, you take a look around. there's some regulars that smile and wave, but for the most part it's not that busy. maybe that's what makes him stand out more. your eyes fall on choi san, all star right fielder and the newest member of your team, trying to hide in the corner. but his sharp eyes and broad shoulders alert you immediately that the subject of all your recent studies is here. and he's staring at you. you stare back, and he quirks an eyebrow, almost like a challenge.
you take the bait and make your way to his table.
"anyone sittin' here?" you ask in a slight southern accent, and san smiles. it's been a while since he played in the south. he forgot how charming it can be. maybe he'll catch himself a southern belle while he's here.
"saved it for you," he smirks, and you hum as you sit across from him. he sees your almost empty glass and states, "looks like you need another."
"ah, i probably shouldn't," you shake your head. "got an early morning."
"me too," san nods, that smirk still comfortably on his face. "so what's your name, beautiful?"
"y/n," you reply. you try not to let your heart flutter at the nickname, or the way he's staring at you, but it's hard. "yours?"
"san," he says simply. "you from here, y/n?"
"born and raised," you answer. "you new to the city?"
"you could say that," he sighs. "just moved here for work, but i've visited a couple times."
"how are you likin' it so far?"
"to be honest?" he makes a face. "it's kind of boring."
"excuse me?" you're taken aback. you don't take kindly to people badmouthing your hometown, and you don't like the mischievous spark in san's eyes as he continues.
"well, girl as pretty as you not taking me up on my offer of another round, that's no fun is it?" he teases.
"ahah," you laugh halfheartedly. "sure, i can see why that would upset you."
"i'm not upset, doll, just disappointed."
"well, hate to disappoint you further, but i really do have an early morning," you say as you start to rise. "just saw a stranger sittin' all by his lonesome and thought i would say hi."
"i'm glad you did," san raises his glass to you. "maybe i'll see you around?"
"maybe," you shrug, trying to bite back a smile. "nice meeting you san."
you feel his eyes on you as you return your glass to the bar, waving goodbye to the bartender before you head to the door. you turn before you leave, meeting san's eyes across the room, and you just smile to yourself as you step outside.
-
san is the first one in the clubhouse the next day. he loves the smell of an empty locker room, untainted by the man stench that inevitably comes with a roomful of athletes. he smiles warmly as he walks in and sees his locker decorated in welcome. he's looking through all the gifts, some regulation equipment he asked for and some just goodies from the team, as the players start slowly arriving.
the first to arrive is jongho. he's the catcher, and san finds it easy to talk to him. he seems quiet, but most catchers are the stoic type, so maybe jongho will open up to him in time. the next guy in has the opposite issue. wooyoung, the shortstop, immediately claps san into a hug, babbling a mile a minute about how great it's gonna be to have him on the team.
san gets stuck talking to wooyoung for a while, which he doesn't mind. they get along quickly, but as they talk the rest of the team trickles in. hongjoong, the second baseman, waves to san from across the room. seonghwa, the left fielder, carefully places his things into the locker next to san's, then gives san a wordless handshake and a warm smile. yunho, the first baseman, is spread out at the locker to san's right. mingi, the third baseman, is next to him. wooyoung finally leaves for his locker next to hongjoong, and next to him is yeosang, the center fielder. pitchers must not report today, because san scans the room and counts eight.
he checks the time and notices he's almost late for his press conference, so he gets to work getting dressed before someone appears at his side to escort him down the hall. she works in media relations and gives him the run down of the conference, explaining that the coach will do a quick intro before san comes up to say a few words. they'll shake hands, he'll sign his contract, and then take a few questions before reporting to more press stuff. nothing he hasn't done before, but san still brushes his sweaty hands on his pants to calm his nerves as they enter.
san hears the chatter of the press die down as their eyes fall on him. it's a big room, lots of reporters and cameras, and he smiles and waves as he gets ushered to the side of the makeshift stage in the front. the coach steps up then, welcoming everyone and giving a bit of insight on why they wanted to sign san. this team desperately needed a right fielder, so in all the negotiations it was basically just their operations team begging san to come play for them. the coach paints it a different way, and san does his best to grab onto a few phrases so he can sprinkle them into his own speech. the coach calls him up and san takes a seat next to him, falling smoothly into his regular "happy to be here, excited at the opportunity" spiel. he scans the room and recognizes a few faces, so he gets more comfortable as he goes on.
"i think at the end of the day, i'm looking for a team that i can be with for a long time," san starts to conclude. "and so far, i'm really liking it here. maybe this will be that team."
he goes through the motions of signing, shaking hands, posing for pictures, and then settles back into his seat for the question portion. at his other teams, he's been allowed to pick the press he talks to, so he scans the room for familiar faces, but media relations steps in and starts calling names. the first one takes him by surprise, and a smile grows on his face as he sees who steps up.
"y/f/n, local news," you smile back at san as the recognition crosses his features. "you said you're liking the city so far? can i ask what makes you think this team, this franchise, will be the one to make you stay?"
"you were at the bar last night," he responds, and you feel yourself blush. a chuckle ripples through the crowd of reporters as san goes on. "sorry, just. this is a surprise, is all."
"i agree," you quip back. "because yesterday you told me you didn't like this city. so i'm just wondering what made you change your mind."
"honestly? the people," he answers sincerely, holding your gaze. "it's hard to explain, but things feel...different here. i've never been with a team where the players are so welcoming, the staff is so kind, and the reporters are hanging out at local bars after hours." another laugh. "so i think this franchise might have more of the culture i've been missing from those other teams i've played for. that answer your question, y/n?"
"yep," you give him a satisfied nod. "happy to have you here, san."
"happy to be here," he smiles, and you swear the lights from all the cameras make his teeth sparkle. he keeps staring at you as media relations calls for the next question, and only when his attention is no longer on you do you realize that your heart is beating too fast.
-
today's only a press day for the boys, there's no actual training that needs to happen, but that doesn't mean the clubhouse is calm. no, actually, there's more people here than there will be for the rest of the season, what with all the camera crews and a few stylists running around. oh, and the fact that everyone who works here wants to get a peek at choi san. he left the press conference and saw a group down the hall, staring and whispering. san wasn't sure which way to go to find the locker room, so he approaches the group with a smile. turns out it's front office staff, part timers, anyone who works here that needed to see san with their own eyes to believe he's really playing here. he's charming as ever, learning everyone's names, signing things, taking pictures. he even stands by happily as an older woman calls her grandsons, and they laugh together as the little boys squeal in excitement.
san stays until everyone has what they wanted, which must have taken a while, because he sees the press trickling out toward the exit. he keeps his eyes peeled for one person in particular, and when you pass through the doors and turn san's way, he smiles. you stop, eyes focused on the notebook you're furiously scribbling in, so you don't see him. that won't do, san thinks, so walks over and stops in front of you with a sigh.
"what do you want san," you ask it as a statement, eyes not moving from your notes.
"how'd you know it was me?"
"i know everything," you look up then, meeting his smile with one of your own. "and you've got cleats on, so i knew it wasn't anybody from your fan club coming to ask for my notes."
"my fan club?" he laughs, but you can tell it boosts his ego. "i think they're just fans of the team."
"are you always like this?" you ask thoughtfully, and san says he doesn't know what you're talking about. "you're not cocky, but you're humble, and you're cocky about being humble. does that make sense?" you stop to scribble that down, and san tries again to see what else you've written. you catch him this time, tugging the notes just out of his line of sight. "don't you have pictures to take?"
"how'd you-"
"i told you, i know everything," you joke again, taking a moment to stuff your pen back in your bag. that leaves your notebook unattended, and san snatches it, running a few steps down the hall with evil glee. you stomp after him and fail in grabbing it from his eager hands.
"hey, this is good," san reads, his eyes scanning the paper. "you write all your stuff by hand?"
"depends," you shrug. "i started getting bored at the end of that talk and i needed to organize my thoughts."
"oh i can tell you were bored," san smirks, his eyes flicking to you. "i like the doodle of me."
"that doodle could be of anybody," you say as you finally snatch your notebook back. you put it securely in your bag as san continues to look smug.
"i think it was a doodle of me," he says as he starts walking away. "if you ever want me to sit for another portrait, you know where to find me, doll."
"where ya goin'?" you ask him, and he stops. he looks down the hall in front of him back towards you with his thumb pointing behind him.
"to the locker room?"
"that's this way dummy," you point, and you're pleased to see his ears turn red as he corrects his steps. you're heading to the exit, so you walk in the same direction briefly. san slows his steps to keep up with you, and he's so close that his hand keeps brushing yours.
"looks like this is where i leave ya, doll," he sighs, and you wave as you keep walking. "i'll see you soon?"
"you'd like that wouldn't you?" you turn around with a smirk, watching san as you push through the doors to the parking lot. "bye san."
-
san loves the first practice of the season. he loves the feeling of walking onto a brand new field, seeing the empty stadium ahead. at his his other teams, he's had to make this walk alone, his former teammates usually more reserved or too good to talk to him. not here, though. as he takes the field, he finds himself engrossed in a deep argument with jongho and wooyoung about the best world series team of all time, and san feels giddy. he feels like he did when he was a kid, playing ball with his friends, and it's only the first day of practice! imagine what an entire season here would be like. every day, san is thankful he made this move.
another reason for san to be happy he's here is, well, you. working with the press at other teams wasn't exactly a thrill, but rather a part of the job he had to get through. here he's eager to give a statement, always willing to join a press conference, just to have the chance of messing with you.
as he makes the long walk to the outfield for warm ups, san sees someone by the visitor's dugout who's not in uniform. he squints a little in the early morning sun and sees that it's a woman, but assumes it's someone from the front office. he keeps walking, but a laugh echoes out and san turns back to this mystery woman.
"y/n?" he shouts, holding his glove over his eyes to see if that'll block out the sun. sure enough, you turn from your talk with the managers to send him a wave, and that giddy feeling san had walking onto the field is back. "what are you doing here?"
"my job!" you shout back, and with that you go back to work. one of the coaches jogs by san then, tossing a baseball in his direction.
"stop shoutin', son," he says. "go throw that in left field. seonghwa will take you through the warm ups, then we'll come together for drills."
"yes sir," san nods, jogging over to his teammate. he steals one last glance at you, and he swears the sunlight makes you glow.
-
san is exhausted after practice. he knew playing for this team would challenge him, but damn. he's sore and it's only the first day! he's still catching his breath as the team mills about around him, and yunho smirks as he alerts the boys to san's condition.
"i think we wore the superstar out," yunho laughs, and san throws one of his sweaty towels at him. yunho screams and tosses it back, but mingi jumps in to grab it. "what the hell are you doing?"
"this is a sweaty towel used by the choi san," mingi says with importance. "do you know how much i could sell this for?"
"guys, come on," san laughs, snatching the towel back. "i'm not a superstar."
"says the superstar," wooyoung mumbles, and san contemplates throwing the towel again but decides not to, mingi is still close by.
"no, we get it," hongjoong assures him. "just because the press is saying that doesn't mean it's true. you're a part of the team, so you're a team player, right san?"
"yes, exactly-"
"please, i hope everybody is decent!" a familiar voice shouts from the doorway, and san smiles when he finds you standing there. you've got your notebook over your eyes to hide any naked players, but a quick sweep tells san that everyone is dressed for the most part.
"wait, wait!" jongho shouts as he fights to put a clean shirt on. some of the boys chuckle at him while san says, "dude, she's probably seen a guy shirtless before."
"but she's a lady, san," jongho insists. "it's not polite. and i don't like to have my nips out when i'm giving quotes."
"that's why he's my favorite," you say, finally risking a peek. "all good?"
to be honest, san is a little shocked you're here. it's kind of odd for a reporter to be in the locker room after a regular practice, but he trusts this team and how they run things. most importantly, he trusts you. but his shock holds true as you greet the team while making your way straight toward him.
"aw, she's just here for superstar," mingi pouts, and you make him hush.
"i have to publish my story on him today and need to check quotes," you explain. "i'm coming for you next, mingi."
as mingi celebrates, you surprise san further by walking right up to him and taking the seat by his locker. you're flipping through your notebook as he watches you, and after a few seconds you look at him then pat the bench next to you.
"come on, get cozy," you tell him. "you spoke too fast yesterday and i didn't catch all of your answers."
"because you were too busy doodling?" san teases, taking a seat exceptionally close to you.
"that was after you," you explain, but san sees your ears turn red. "can you look through this and tell me if anything rings a bell?"
"y/n, you may be good at your job, but you have shit handwriting," san says after staring at the page long enough for your chicken scratch to make his head hurt. some of the boys near him laugh, and yunho pops his head in to take a look.
"oh yeah that's illegible," yunho confirms. "cute drawing of san, though."
"go away yunho."
"yes ma'am."
you're able to piece together what san said in the press conference, so once you're satisfied you take a moment to type up the changes into your phone. you send the story off to your editor, but then start working through who else you need to talk to today. san is watching all of this, and when your eyebrows furrow in concentration, he leans in.
"i know what you're thinking," he whispers, and you have to shake from your concentration to look him in his sneaky eyes.
"what?"
"i said i know what you're thinking," he repeats with a shrug. when you don't respond, he keeps going. "i bet you're wondering, hm, is san free tonight? well, i am."
"i can't use that for my story," you tell him, and he bumps his shoulder into yours.
"this is when you say if you're free."
"is it?" you ask, gathering your things so you can move on to the next player. "i'm not quite sure about that yet."
"whatever, doll," san smiles. "you know where to find me."
-
you did know where to find him. you knew he would be at the bar tonight. you knew he wasn't supposed to be there, and you knew you shouldn't go looking for him but you couldn't help yourself. after all, you've got to take yourself out for a drink - you filed your first story of the season today. you deserve to celebrate!
as soon as you walk in you can tell it's a mad house. the bar is packed, and it reminds you of how busy it gets after a game. you wonder if it's just preseason excitement that has so many people here, but you don't wonder long. you're here for a drink, so you squeeze between two guys at the bar and wave the bartender down. everyone here knows you, so you get to cut the line.
"hey y/n," he smiles as he walks up. "want your regular?"
"yeah, but top shelf tonight," you tell him. "finished my first story of the season today."
"is it any good? maybe i'll read this one," the bartender jokes as he gets to work.
"i didn't know you could read," you tease, and you smile when he tosses his head back in a laugh. the sound draws someone's attention, but you're too busy flirting with the bartender to notice.
"and to think i was gonna pay your tab myself," he shakes his head.
"put whatever she gets on mine," someone says at your side, and you physically jump when you recognize who it is.
"san?"
"told you to come find me, doll, why are you surprised i'm here?" he smirks. you can tell he's wearing league issued workout clothes, but to the regulars in the bar he's just some dude in sweats. he's got a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, and if he didn't have such striking features you'd say he was blending in pretty well. "i thought we were getting a drink together."
"are we?" you ask. "because i don't recall you actually asking me." san dips his head, knowing that you caught him in a lie.
"can i get whatever she's drinking?" san asks the bartender as he finally places your drink down, and your mouth hangs open in surprise.
"what's this sparkly shit for?" you ask, flicking at the gold pompom on the toothpick poking out of your cup. there's also swirls of gold in your drink, and the bartender shrugs.
"you said you were celebratin'," he explains. "wanted to make sure the drink rose to the occasion."
"well thank you," you say as you lift the drink to your lips, mostly to hide your blush. san is watching this interaction next to you, doing a horrible job of hiding his disgust.
"here's your drink man," the bartender says, plopping a cup down in front of san. "her's was on the house. i added yours to your tab."
"how generous," san smiles, tipping his cup toward the bartender as he walks away. san turns to you slowly, and says, "he's nice."
"you shouldn't be here."
"why, am i interrupting your date?" san quips.
"no," you roll your eyes. "you shouldn't be seen here. lots of fans, you'll probably get stopped for pictures, autographs, kissing babies..."
"they don't let babies into bars, y/n," san smirks at you. "but thanks for looking out for me."
"isn't against team rules for you to go out during the preseason anyway?" you ask, knowing full well it is.
"i don't like following rules," san shrugs.
"oh so that's why you've played for six different teams in five years?" it's your turn to quip, and san whistles.
"you got me there, ace," he sighs. "so what's this about you celebrating tonight?"
"that's nothing," you try to brush it off. "i sent in that story about you, remember? well, it got approved, so i have a tradition of taking myself out for a drink here when my first story of the season is filed."
"taking yourself out?" san shakes his head. "no, no no no. that won't do. i'm getting you another drink, unless your boyfriend tries to pay for it again, and then we're going out."
"you have to report to practice at 7am," you remind him, and he groans, dropping his head on your shoulder.
"you knowing everything about the team is totally ruining my game."
"aw, you did a fine job of that yourself," you coo, patting his cheek. you cup his chin and pull him back up, and you hide a smile when you notice the blush on his cheeks. "maybe you can owe me? take me out for real?"
"i'd like that," san nods.
"i knew you would," you tease, and san reaches an arm out to pull you into his side. he over calculates and accidentally smacks the guy behind you, who turns around in a drunken haze ready to fight.
"what the-" he starts, anger in his swimming eyes. when they land on san, you both see recognition take over his features in slow motion. "holy shit y'all! it's choi san!"
"come on," you grab san's arm, tugging him in the opposite direction. you think there's an entrance out the back, so hopefully the two of you can squeeze through the masses before too many people catch on. as you drag san behind you, you hear the bar goers talking about the star in their midst. some drunk lady grabs sans arm and won't let go, and he won't shake her off like you tell him to. you get caught, the exit you were hoping for just in the distance. people start crowding around san, trying to wedge between you, but he won't let go of your hand. he finishes signing a bar napkin for a guy who definitely used a fake to get in here, and then you're pulling san along again. the crowd is starting to push, and they're all drunk. and rowdy. and loud.
"aw, look, he's already got himself a bitch!" someone shouts, watching you cling onto san as you push him toward the exit. he stops cold, looking around for the drunken idiot. he reinforces his idiocy by stepping forward, slurring his words as he says, "didn't take you long, son-" *hiccup* "always got sluts lookin' for ya-" *hiccup* "she's a pretty one too-"
before you register what he's doing, san shakes you off of his arm. he steps closer to the man, and you feel yourself calling his name, but in the chaos even you can't hear yourself. san pulls his arm back and clocks the man in the face, splattering blood from his now probably broken nose.
"SAN!" you shout, yanking him back toward you. "let's GO."
adrenaline and shock give you the strength to drag a stunned san out of the bar, but it's so packed there were people in the alley already. they weren't aware of what went on inside, so you're able to tug san around the corner. you rush him toward the parking deck, and thank your lucky stars you moved your car from the employee lot earlier. you shove san into your passenger seat, slamming the door shut so you can rush to the driver's side. as you start the car, you look to the side and see san sinking further into the seat.
"i fucked up," he whispers. you hear a quiver in his voice, but you don't press him. "fuck. i'm gonna get kicked off the team. am i gonna get arrested?"
"you won't get kicked off the team," you tell him softly. "and i'll call the bartender in a minute, explain it to him. just pray that asshole you punched doesn't press charges."
"y/n, i'm so sorry," san says, looking to you with a scared look in his eyes. "i just. i couldn't let him talk to you like that."
"thank you san," you say sincerely. "let me see your hand."
"no, it's fine," he insists, but when you touch it he flinches.
"fuck san, how are you gonna play tomorrow?"
"i'm so losing my job," he shakes his head, sitting up like he's going to leave.
"whoa, where are you going?"
"i have to go apologize," he says, trying to open the door but struggling to do it with his hurt hand. "shit, i have to pay for our drinks, and my car! i need to-"
"san," you say sternly, and he looks to you again with those sad eyes. "i'll fix it. ok? do you trust me?"
"yes," he nods vigorously.
"good," you nod back. "can you buckle your seatbelt or do i have to do that too?"
"where are we going?" san asks after securing his seatbelt. it's a good thing he did, because you whip your car out of its spot so fast his body slams against the strap. "seriously road runner, where are you taking me?"
"we need to fix your hand," you tell him. "i live close by, so i'll fix you up and then in an hour or two i'll bring you back for your car."
"thank you," san says. "you're saving my ass."
"just be really good this season, ok?" you ask him. "it'd be fun to watch my team win for once."
"anything for you, ace."
-
a few minutes later, you've got a sheepish all-star perched on the edge of your tub as you stand over him and wipe the blood from his hand. you already sent a text to the bartender, so that's cleared up. apparently, san was doing everyone a favor by punching that guy. no one likes him, so san's not in any trouble with the bar. chances are the guy won't press charges either, he tends to start shit around town so the cops wouldn't necessarily be on his side.
the main issue now is the team. there's pictures and videos floating around, and you were right, san wasn't supposed to be out tonight. he's got a missed call from hongjoong already, and you're helping san figure out what to say to the coaches now.
"just own up to it," you tell him. "they'll appreciate the honesty. and tell them you beat that guy up because he was being mean to me, that'll help your case too."
"no," san shakes your head. "i'm not bringing you into this. i don't want to hurt your reputation."
"do it," you shrug. "i was there. i was part of it. if you don't tell them now, i will tomorrow when i do their preseason interviews."
"are you sure?"
"yep," you reply. "it'll help take some of the heat off of you. sources tell me not everyone is sold on you yet, but if they know you were defending my honor it'll get you some respect in the clubhouse."
"do you have blackmail on all these guys?" san jokes as he tries to focus on typing a text with one hand. you're done wiping the blood from his knuckles, and you've found a small cut on his hand that you need to cover. you step away for a second to bend down in front of your sink, searching through the cabinet below. san tries to hide that he's staring, but he does a poor job. he watches still as you stand up and tear open a bandaid, but he scoffs when he sees what's on it. "you are not making me wear a hello kitty bandaid."
"so you want to get infected?" you ask as you put the bandaid on him anyway. you trace your thumb over it softly, making sure it's laying flat, but you realize how tender this moment is. you're holding san's bruised hand in yours, standing so close to him that your legs are between his spread ones. you take a step back, but san uses his free hand to grab you by the waist.
"where you going, doll?" he whispers, looking up at you softly.
"you need an ice pack," you whisper back.
"you're not gonna kiss it to make it better?" he pouts, and you laugh to hide the way your heart skipped a beat.
"that doesn't work you know," you say as you bring his hand to your lips regardless. you place a delicate kiss to his soft skin, holding eye contact with him to watch his reaction.
"you're right, that didn't work," he sighs, and you start to let go. "maybe this will?" he asks, bringing you closer before cupping your face and pulling you down to his lips. he kisses you once, separating from you with a satisfied look on his face. "there. i'm all good now."
"nice," you squeak. "was this all an elaborate ploy to make me kiss you? because you could've just asked."
"really?" san asks gleefully. "will you kiss me?"
"just did."
"again," he pouts, and you lean down to kiss him quickly. he uses both his hands to hold you in place, his lips caressing yours as he lets out a quiet hum. he pulls back just to lean his forehead against yours and says, "yeah, that's got healing power baby."
"you still need ice," you tell him, stepping back before he can grab onto you again. "come on. maybe we can kiss some more in my kitchen?"
-
san ends up sleeping on your couch. he wouldn't let you leave after fixing up his hand, insisting that you've done enough for him tonight. he'll deal with his car in the morning. you tried giving him the bed, but it barely worked. he wouldn't even let you finish your sentence before he started covering his ears and shaking his head. you gave him an innocent kiss goodnight after setting him up with more pillows and blankets than one guy needs, and you both went to sleep.
except, he wasn't there when you got up. you set your alarm earlier than you planned, but even then you walk into your living room to find all the pillows stacked and blankets neatly folded. the only sign that san was here. well, that and the breakfast he ordered that waits for you on your kitchen table.
san had to be the first one at practice, so he couldn't wait for you to wake up. he also couldn't burden you more than he already has, so he woke before dawn and got to work. his hand feels fine, not great, but he thinks he can get through practice. he's rehearsed what he's going to say to the coaches, the team, the press, and he hopes it's enough.
-
most of your work for the day will take place in a smaller media room that's been set up for your one-on-one interviews with the coaching staff. that means you have no reason to linger outside the locker room, hoping to see san and check that he's ok. you distract yourself by going over the notes for the first interview, and before you know it, there's a knock at the door. it's the pitching coach, one of your favorite people on the team. he pokes his head in and smiles, so you welcome him as you dive into the same spiel you always do for these interviews. you're a pro, and the guys know what they're doing too, so it should be easy going. but as soon as you sit down to start, the coach stares at you with a look that's up to no good.
"so you were out with san last night," he states.
"i wasn't out with him," you explain. "we happened to be at the same bar."
"i heard he wrecked his hand defending you," the coach continues.
"he wrecked it?" you ask, more concern in your voice than you probably needed. "will he be able to play?"
"he'll play just fine," he nods. "don't you worry. we all heard what happened. shoot, some of the coaches and me were sending the videos back and forth last night. i tell you what, the boy's an idiot, but we've let men get by with worse. like i said, don't you worry."
"good," you breathe in relief. "then should we get started?"
-
it was a long day, after an incredibly long night, so when it's time for you to leave you're exhausted. you've been all over the place today, trying to keep up with your schedule, tracking people down for interviews, and you misplaced your notebook at least four times. you can't wait to get home, shower, and immediately go to sleep, but as you approach your car you realize you've lost your keys.
"shit," you hiss, dumping most of your bag out onto the hood of your car. you're mining through all your junk, wondering if it's too late to head back inside.
"hey," san says from behind you, and you jump.
"jesus!" you whip around to stare at him. "you scared me!"
"sorry ace," he smiles sheepishly. "thought you heard me coming."
"obviously not!" you screech, your heart still racing. "what's up?"
"looking for these?" he asks, dangling your keychain in front of you.
"oh my god you're a life saver," you sigh in relief, taking the keys from him gratefully. "how did you know these were mine?"
"i recognized them from last night," he shrugs. "and from the mascot keychain. i remember someone saying they had a childhood obsession with phil the bucket?"
"stop paying so much attention to me, could you?" you ask as you start shoveling your things back into your purse.
"here, let me help," san says as he joins you. he holds your purse open as you slide its contents back inside. "i owe you from last night, so consider this my starting point."
"the starting point?" you smile at him, and he nods.
"yep," he says nonchalantly. "first i found your keys, now the bag thing, and next, i don't know, maybe i take you to dinner?"
"hm, tonight?" you ask, and he nods again. "i have plans."
"then cancel them," san replies. you can tell he's joking by the glimmer of mischief in his eyes, but you know he really wants you to say yes.
"where would we go?"
"somewhere nice so i can spoil you," san says simply, closing your purse and walking to the driver's side of your car. "can i pick you up in thirty?"
"thirty minutes isn't enough time to get ready for a date, san," you frown.
"yeah, but any longer and i'll miss you too much," he pouts. you cup his chin and bring that pout to your lips, kissing him softly before you pull away.
"did that buy me another thirty?"
"twenty," he replies. "maybe twenty five if you promise to wear something sexy."
"deal."
-
as promised, san is outside your building exactly fifty five minutes later. you worried that not having his number and vice versa would make it hard to coordinate, but you're surprised when you check your phone and find that he texted you.
"i'm outside, ace," his text reads. no 'this is san' or anything to identify himself. you know it's him, so you tell him you're coming out.
you worry briefly you won't know which car is his, but as soon as you step outside you let out a soft laugh. of course he's got the most expensive car here, and of course he's leaned against the passenger door waiting for you. he lets out a low whistle as you approach, and you could act coy, but the reporter in you has to ask, "how'd you get my number, san?"
"i'm not giving up my source," he smiles smugly, opening the door for you. "you look incredible."
"it's nice seeing you in something other than baseball clothes for once," you reply. you take his hand and let him help you into the car, watching intently as he crosses the front to reach the driver's side. you're turned to him when he sits, and ask, "seriously. was it hongjoong? one of the coaches? you know they'll be on your ass if they find out you took me on a date."
"i'm not telling," san smirks again. "you gonna buckle your seatbelt or you need me to do it for you?"
"why, you a bad driver or something?" you tease.
"says the woman who gave me whiplash last night."
"i was trying to make a quick getaway before you got stormed by adoring fans again," you remind him.
"always looking out for me," he shakes his head. "i think someone has a crush." you don't respond, instead looking out the window to hide your smile. "you not saying anything isn't helping your case."
"no comment?" you reply, feeling proud at the blush on san's cheeks when you turn back to him. "so where's the superstar taking me?"
"san, the very nice young man you agreed to go out with, is taking you to one of his favorite restaurants," he replies.
"you've lived here like a week, how do you already have a favorite restaurant?"
"there was a place in one of the cities i used to play in, i went there every week," he explains as he drives. you catch yourself staring, but he doesn't seem to mind, so you continue. "the nicest staff. best food. always packed. then one day, it's gone. the owner and his wife moved so they could be closer to their daughter while she was at school, and they ended up here. he gave me a call as soon as my trade was final." you guess a couple places it could be, but they're all wrong. "so ms. know it all doesn't actually know it all?"
"don't call me that," you groan. "there's plenty i don't know."
"enlighten me, ace."
"i can't do math to save my life," you admit, and that gets a laugh out of san. "i don't know how to fold a fitted sheet. and don't tell anyone, but that new stat all the baseball pundits are talking about? it makes no sense to me."
"oh, that's easy," san says, and he falls into a comfortable conversation about baseball. you always wanted this from the guys you date, but despite your work, most guys assume that you don't know anything about sports because you're a woman. you're grateful that you don't feel that way around san, and you start to relax a little bit. you're not on a date with superstar outfielder choi san, you remind yourself. just san. just a, what did he say, a very nice young man?
that niceness continues when he parks his car, rushing to your door to get it for you. he takes your hand to help you out and doesn't let go as you walk in, and you're genuinely shocked that you haven't heard of this place before. it's fabulous, beautiful inside and out, and as soon as you walk in you're hearing san's name called. but this time it's not a fanatic, just a kind looking man and his wife.
"sannie!" she exclaims, pulling him into a soft hug. "oh, it's so nice to see you again. we were so happy when we heard you were coming here. i think it'll be good for you."
"me too," san agrees. he turns to the man then, the owner, and they exchange a manly handshake and similar pleasantries before he turns to you. "this is y/n, by the way. star reporter, loved by all-"
"and way out of your league," the owner winks at you. you feel yourself blush as san agrees, and then he's escorting you to your table. as you walk through the restaurant you notice it's surprisingly empty. didn't san say their last place was always full?
the owner helps you with your seat as his wife explains the specials, but you don't see a menu anywhere. you look at san quizzically and he gives you a look that says he'll explain shortly. after some more kindness, the owner and his wife are gone, and you get a chance to really take this place in.
"if you're wondering where the menu is," san starts, "they won't give us one. they never let me order when i come here, they just decide for me. and it's the best food i've ever had, each time."
"can't wait," you smile at him. "is this place as popular as their last one, you think?"
"i know it is," san nods. "that's why i booked it just for us."
"what?"
"i told them i was bringing a date and they offered to stay open late for us," he shrugs. "i hope that's not weird?"
"no," you reply. "i'm sure they're used to it by now."
"used to what?"
"you bringing dates here," you answer. "i can't be the only lucky lady you've done this with."
"well consider yourself lucky, ace," he says. "you're different."
"like can't be seen in public with me different?" you tease. "san, i'm flattered."
"no ace," he laughs. "i wanted this to be special, but if you want a crowd i can call the team-"
"no," you cut him off, grabbing his hand that's laid out on the table. "i like this. it's nice."
"told you i was gonna spoil you, doll," san smiles. "get used to it."
"should i?" you challenge, but san just continues smiling as a waiter brings by your drinks. you feel your walls falling more and more as the night goes on, as you and san eat some of the best food you've ever had. he's fun to be around, you think. maybe you'll give him more of a chance than you were expecting.
"so. i have a question," san says after the plates from your meal are cleared. you're waiting for dessert, but you're not sure you can eat much more.
"shoot," you tell him. "i ask you plenty, so ask away."
"in the locker room, yesterday i think? you said jongho was your favorite," he finishes with a pout.
"that's not a question," you laugh. "you'd be a shitty reporter."
"compared to you, everyone is," san replies. "but i meant, why is he your favorite? were you serious or just joking?"
"if i had to pick a favorite," you start, "i think it would be jongho. i've always liked catchers, so that works in his favor. he's fun to watch, and a lot of fun to work with."
"you have a thing for catchers?" san teases. "why?"
"not a thing," you say, wishing you could kick him underneath the table. "but maybe? i don't know. catchers do have really nice thighs."
"and outfielders?" san tries.
"never stood out to me," you reply. "it's either catchers or third basemen." you start to explain how your favorite player of all time, the one who got you into baseball, played third base, and you don't worry about sounding too much like a fangirl. you admit to the jerseys, the baseball card collection, all of it, and when you finish you look up to find san watching you with an amused look on his face. "what? too much?"
"no," he shakes his head. "i'm just thinking how good you'd look in one of my jerseys."
"try playing third," you tease. "maybe i'll buy one."
dessert comes then, and your focus turns to the amazing food again. maybe it was just you, but you felt a sort of...tension when you were talking just now. you weren't planning on sleeping with san, really ever, but that look in his eyes when he thought about you in his jersey, maybe the date won't end here.
after another visit from the owner and his wife, and plenty of take out to last you a few days, you're walking back to san's car. there's a chill in the air, so you gravitate to him for warmth. his arm circles around your waist, pulling you to his side, and he squeezes your hip. you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin, and you wonder again where the night might be going.
ever the gentleman, san helps you back into your seat and places your food carefully in the back. you're looking at him now in a new light, imagining how his hands would feel on your hips without a layer of clothes separating your skin from his. you're so caught up in your thoughts that you don't notice san has taken his seat, or that he said something to you. you ask him to repeat it, and he has a happy look on his face as he says, "thanks for going out with me, doll."
"thanks for asking," you reply. "i had a great time."
"good," he nods with finality, starting the car without another word. he doesn't even look at you again until he gets close to your building, and all those thoughts of what would happen next have left your mind. whatever vibe you caught from him in the restaurant was gone, he obviously wasn't planning on coming up to your apartment after this. your suspicions were confirmed when he pulls up to your door, turning to you with that same sappy look. "i had a great time tonight, y/n. thank you."
"yeah, sure," you mewl, gathering your things. "um, the food-"
"take all of it," san insists, twisting back to grab the bags. "this isn't exactly on my in-season diet, so i'm not sure how much i could sneak before the dietician clocks me for it."
"right, thanks," you nod, laden down with bags as you struggle to open your door. "well, thanks."
"you said that already ace."
"right," you repeat. "um, so, see you at work i guess?"
"looking forward to it," he smiles softly. "text me when you get in?"
"right," you say again, stepping out of his car without looking back.
-
the season starts shortly after your date with san, so you're too busy with work to think about it.
except that's a lie, you can't stop thinking about it. how could san be so flirty, act so into you, and then end the night without so much as a kiss goodbye? you don't want it to, but it's bothering you.
you don't have a reason to see him, at work or otherwise, until the first day of the season. you're set up in the dock next to the home dugout so you can get updates or a quick interview for the broadcast. you see san for the first time in days then, sitting there with your notebook and a headset, as he takes the field for warmups. it might be your mind playing tricks on you, but you swear san looks for you as he waits for seonghwa. as soon as his eyes find yours he turns around, jogging to the outfield after. you shake it off and get to work, checking your notes to make sure you've got the info right for the game. san will be the leadoff hitter, and you feel a pit of excitement in your stomach at the thought of watching him play. just from watching him in practice you know he's good, but he's electric when there's a real win on the line. still, you don't let your thoughts linger on him too long. you've got a job to do.
the game runs like clockwork, and the team easily knocks down three outs to switch sides. you don't look up when they walk to the dugout, afraid of catching san's eyes again. you don't look up until you hear the announcer call san's name, watching his back as he walks to the plate. through your headset, you can hear the commentators upstairs in the press box listing off his accomplishments at past teams, painting him in this otherworldly light. he's a superstar for a reason, his stats show that, and the way they're talking about him upstairs shows that everyone is captivated by him.
the pitcher, not intimidated by the silver slugger he's facing, sets up his first pitch. it's a curveball, somewhere in the 80 mph range, and it looks like it's gonna be a ball. but san is confident, his stance strong, his shoulders poised just so, and you watch in amazement as he rears back and completely shreds it. the ball is gone before anyone knows what's happening, and your eyes stay locked on san as he rounds the bases. when he approaches first, he looks directly at you, pointing in your direction as he turns at the bag. your heart is racing, you notice, and you shake off your surprise so you can describe the hit in your already cramped notes.
the rest of the game is exciting, but nothing matches san's leadoff homer. you could tell that lit the team up, an enthusiasm in every at bat, every play. your team wins, by a lot, and you go through the motions of finding players and coaches to interview for the post-game show as fans file out and the grounds crew comes in. the one person you're hoping to snag is nowhere to be seen, though.
by the time you're done with your work on the field, the post-game conference is already over. you're not sure if san gave a quote there and that's why you missed him on the field, but you don't care. the team won't mind, so you make your way to the locker room to find the man who's been running laps through your head all day.
san knows as soon as you enter the locker room that you're looking for him. he's showered and dressed in his outside clothes, his jersey neatly folded on the bench beside him as you approach.
"hey ace," he greets you. "some game huh?"
"it was good," you nod. "nice hit."
"glad you liked it," he replies cockily. "did it for you."
"can i quote you on that?" you ask, and san chuckles.
"come on doll, why the cold shoulder? i did what you asked, i helped your team win. figured that would get me on your good side."
"i just need a quote about that hit," you stand your ground. "i'm risking my innocence the longer i stay here, so if you could just say something arrogant on the record, i'll be on my way."
san can tell something is up, so he returns your formality with some of his own. you're in and out in less than five minutes, heading to the press room to collect your thoughts before you shoot your editor a text about your incoming story. as you stand there typing, you hear someone come up behind you so you start walking toward the exit.
"y/n, wait," san calls, and you want to walk faster. you want to leave and not look back, but he adds a quiet, "please." and you take a deep breath before you turn.
"what's up?" you ask. "i've got a deadline."
"you left this," san says simply, offering you the folded jersey from his locker. "i...whatever. it was my jersey from this game. i want you to have it."
"what?" you're shocked, aware of how much it costs for a player to give away a game worn jersey. it may not be much to san in the long run, but still. it softens your heart and you take it wordlessly, searching for something to say in thanks.
"well," san sighs. "see you tomorrow."
"san, wait!" you call before he can get too far. he looks back at you hopefully, and you jog to catch up with him. "why..." as you trail off, you look up to him and find an unreadable look on his face. "sorry for being a dick earlier, i just-"
"no worries," he shakes his head. "i get it, the season changes things, so-"
"did you take me out the other night to pay me back for helping you at the bar?" you ask what you've been wondering for a few days now. "because, i don't know. i thought we...or i, um, i felt...something. and when you dropped me off, it was like you changed."
"changed how?"
"before that, i thought you were into me," you try to say nonchalantly. "but after..."
"you think i'm not into you now?" he asks sadly, and you nod. "check your facts, ace. i think it's the opposite."
"well i wasn't sure-"
"you want me to prove it?" san asks, taking a step closer to you. "or you got a story you need to get back to?"
"i have time," you whisper, looking in his eyes. they're darker, more serious, a little hooded. that tension you felt the other night is back, and it takes your breath away briefly.
"come with me," san's tugging your hand, dragging you along behind him as he leads you outside. a quick scan of the parking lot tells him you're alone, so he rushes you to his car. again, he helps you in, rushing to toss his things in the back. you're sitting there, his jersey gripped in one hand and your notebook in the other. when he opens his door, you mumble something about your stuff, but he cuts you off. "you can get it tomorrow, ace. i'm taking you home now."
"but my keys-"
"i'm taking you to my place," he cuts you off again, looking to you as he starts the car. "there a problem?
"no," you reply meekly, and san is satisfied. he drives like a madman to his place, not far from the stadium. he parks in the deck below, bringing you with him to an elevator close by. he punches the button to his floor before he pounces, cupping your face to crash his lips into yours.
"can't believe you thought i didn't want you," he grumbles, dragging his hands to your neck, down your arms, to grip your waist. "ridiculous." he kisses you again, pulling you by the waist out of the elevator into his hallway. he only detaches from you to find his keys, hands steady as he undoes the lock. he pulls you inside and doesn't give you a chance to look around, capturing your lips in a kiss again. you finally drop your stupid notebook, embarrassed that you've been holding onto it this whole time. you start to let go of his jersey too, but he stops you. "what are you doing, ace? told you i've been thinking about you wearing my jersey."
"what-"
"put it on, baby," he coaxes you, his hands guiding yours. "let's get you out of this librarian dress and into something a little sexier."
"san, slow down," you say breathlessly, following him into his apartment. he collapses on the couch, watching you with that same fire in his eyes from earlier. "what now?"
"change," he replies. "put the jersey on."
"not fair," you pout. "i'm gonna be naked and i don't even get to see you shirtless?"
san tears his shirt off in record time, sitting back with a challenging look on his face.
"your turn, doll."
with shaky hands, you undo the zipper to your dress, letting it fall as san lets out a hiss of air. you slide your arms into the jersey, amazed that it still smells like his cologne after a game in the sun. you kind of flop your arms out after that, like a 'what now?' and san pats his thigh.
"sit," he commands.
"what?"
"you ask a lot of questions."
"it's my job," you quip back, and san lets his head fall back in a laugh.
"you said you had a thing for thighs, baby. figured you'd be jumping at the chance to ride mine."
spurred on by adrenaline and the growing pit of excitement in your stomach, you do as he says, straddling his thigh as you drape your arms over his broad shoulders.
"what now?" you whisper into his ear, nipping just beneath it to drive him insane. his hands return to your waist, and whispering into your ear, he says, "ride me, doll."
you grind against his thigh, sucking in a breath at the friction. you take it at your own pace, going slow so you don't overwhelm your senses. san's warm skin under your hands, his scent surrounding you, it's intoxicating. you let your hips move on their own accord, picking up speed as the pressure in your core builds. you let out a breathy moan when he bounces his leg, and his grip on your waist tightens.
"how's it feel, baby?" he asks, watching you intently.
"good, san, feels good."
"then go faster," he smirks. "might feel even better." you do, gasping as a hand leaves your waist to trace over your bra. his hand dips beneath the fabric, pulling a breast free before moving to the next cup to do the same. both of his hands find your chest, tweaking your nipples as he watches you unravel above him. "how's it feel now?"
"i'm close," you whine, hips jerking as your core gets too sensitive. you try to stand, to move things along, but san grabs onto your ass and guides you against his thigh.
"if you're close then why are you running away?" he chuckles. "show me how good it feels, ace."
"fuck," you whisper, grinding against him harder. "i'm almost there, but i-i can't, san, need more. need your fingers."
"you do?" he pouts. "i don't think you've earned it."
"i have," you whine, squeezing his thigh between yours. "fuck. if you don't do it i will."
"show me," he challenges, and you stand before he can stop you. you take your panties off, tossing them somewhere before sitting back down on his thigh. you cry out at the new contact, your arousal ruining his pants. you look down and see just how much you're dripping onto his leg, moaning as san guides you faster. you pop two fingers into your mouth and then reach down to rub your clit, crying out as you come.
"fuck, san," you moan, hips sputtering over him as you chase your high. "jesus." you let your head fall to his shoulder, your hand stilling at your core as you catch your breath.
"so dirty, baby," he whispers, brushing your hair away from your neck to trail kisses across your skin. his jersey has fallen from your shoulder, so he takes his time leaving a mark on the exposed skin as you come down. "you look real good in my jersey, making yourself feel good like that."
"what now?" you ask again, nipping at his ear.
"you ready so soon?" he asks. "so eager."
"i'm afraid you're gonna come in your pants," you whisper in his ear. "don't wanna ruin the fun before it even starts."
you shriek then, feeling san lift you like it's nothing. he kicks his bedroom door open before dropping you on the bed, taking a minute to admire you splayed out on his sheets as he undoes his pants. you're still breathless, watching him undress, and you feel your breath catch when he pulls his cock free.
"what, don't think you can handle it?" san asks, tearing a condom packet open with his teeth. "gotta say, i'd be disappointed."
"try me."
san crawls over you next, trapping your hands in his as he drags them above your head. he holds them in place as he guides his cock to your core, slapping it against your clit teasingly. you moan, hips bucking to chase the feeling. he keeps teasing you though, coating his cock in your arousal.
"so wet for me, baby," he groans. "are you like this when i play?"
"no," you grit your teeth. "san, please-"
"please what, baby?" he asks, stopping completely. his tip is pressed to your entrance, but he's not moving, and you squirm beneath him. "use your words, pretty girl. you get this wet when you see me?"
"when i think about fucking you, yeah," you respond honestly.
"and how often is that? just ballpark."
"sometimes."
"every day?" he asks, pressing his tip past your walls. he won't give you more than that, so you whimper, and he smirks. "tell me."
"since we kissed," you admit, wishing you could hide your blushing cheeks.
"aw, baby's been desperate that long?" he tsks. "i'm sorry, doll. didn't know you wanted me that bad."
"just fuck me, san."
"ask me."
"huh?"
"ask me how often i think about fucking you," he replies with a shit eating grin.
"how often?"
he thrusts into you, pulling a moan from deep within your chest. he leans down and kisses you, biting your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away. then he whispers, thrusting with each word, "every single day."
he keeps thrusting into you, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. you moan into his mouth, whining his name, and you twist away long enough to ask, "let go of my hands. wanna touch you."
he lets you go, and your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. he groans, egging you on, and you drag your nails down his back as you say, "your shoulders."
"what?"
"your shoulders. they drive me insane," you admit. "catchers have nice thighs, sure, but, fuck, you're built like a god."
"a god?" he smiles, and you can tell you're gonna regret saying that. "what else drives you insane?"
"hm, everything about you?" you reply. "you're infuriating."
"and you're close already," he smirks. "i can feel you clenching around me, baby. this feels good too?"
"so good," you nod. "can i come?"
"wait," he hisses, pulling out as you whine. "patience, baby. wanna try something else."
you let san move you how he wants, sitting up further on his bed as he props your legs open. he slides his hands beneath your legs, almost folding you in half as he cups your head. he moves you so you can see your dripping pussy, shining in the low light of his room.
"help me out, ace," he says, and with shaky hands you guide him back to your entrance. he thrusts, both of you watching as he enters you, and you moan in sync as he thrusts all the way in. he stills for a moment, loving the way you clench around him, and he speeds up, fucking you so fast you can't catch your breath. "shit. look at you, taking me so well."
"can i come now?" you whine, but he shakes his head again. "san!"
"wait for me, baby," he insists, thrusting faster. you can barely take it, but then his hips jerk, and you know he's close. "now, come on my cock, fuck-"
"san, oh my god," you cry out, bucking forward until your forehead is pressed against his, watching as you come around him. you feel him come with you, and you stay trapped in his hold as he slows down. he kisses you softly before he lets go, his hands carding through your hair as he helps you lay down.
"be right back," he whispers, kissing your forehead before he disappears. he comes back with water and a wet washcloth, handing you the cool glass as he cleans you up. you hand it back to him when he's done so he can take a sip, and then he leaves again to toss the condom. he collapses back into bed when he returns, immediately pulling you into his chest as he nuzzles his head into your neck. "can't believe you'd think i didn't want you, doll."
"this might be the first time anyone's proved me wrong," you tease, yelping when you feel him bite your skin. "mean!" he moves to lay his chin on your chest, looking up at you with warmth in his eyes. you brush some of his sweaty hair from his forehead as he speaks.
"do you wanna stay the night?" he asks. "please say yes. but if you don't want to, give me a minute and i can drive you home. but i really want you to stay."
"i'll stay," you nod, cupping his cheek as you stare at him. "you're really handsome, you know?"
"am i?" he smiles. "tell me more."
"that's all you get," you say as you flick his nose, and he scoots up the bed to lay his head next to yours. you're both quiet for a minute, thoughts flooding your head. you don't realize you're frowning until san whines.
"what's that face for?" he pouts, propping himself up on his arm as he stares down at you. "you want to go home."
"no, i'm just thinking," you pout back.
"about?"
"what will the team say if they see our walk of shame?"
"about time," he replies, kissing you before he lays back down. "i talk about you all the time, so i'm sure they'll be thrilled to know i finally got some."
"you're sick," you giggle, pinching him. "but maybe you should go in first. just to be safe."
"whatever you want ace," he hums, looking at you again. "you gonna sleep in my jersey, or can i give you another shirt to wear?"
-
despite your exhaustion from your night with san, you still had a story to write. it wasn't yet midnight, so after san gave you a shirt to sleep in you stayed up, furiously typing on your phone to get the story done in time. you thought san had fallen asleep beside you, his quiet breathing providing a sort of metronome to keep you focused. but as you got to a certain point in your story, you realized you need your notebook. you can't remember where it might be, so you try to quietly slip out of bed and go looking.
"come back to bed," san grumbles, making you jump.
"i thought you were asleep," you whisper, looking at him from the doorway. the sheets have pooled around his waist, and his chest is flushed. you wish you could just lay down with him, rest your head on his warm chest, and fall into the deepest sleep. but you've never filed a story late, and you're not interested in doing so tonight.
"i'm not going to sleep till you do," he answers, rubbing his eyes. he pulls the sheets away and slides out of bed himself, shuffling toward the door after you.
"what are you doing?" you ask, taking a step back.
"if you leave me alone in here i might die," he says seriously. "you looking for your notebook? i put it on my coffee table," he explains, placing his hand at the small of your back while he guides you through his apartment. you barely have a second to grab it from the table before san is pulling you down onto the couch with him, locking you in his hold on his lap.
"um, san?" you ask. "i need my arms." he groans as he loosens his grip, and you try to scoot over to take up the ample space left on the couch.
"uh uh," he shakes his head, looking at you with sleepy eyes. "you're staying right here until you finish."
"but you'll distract me," you pout, which san tries to kiss away.
"distract you, or motivate you to hurry up so we can go to sleep?"
"fine," you sigh, getting comfortable in his lap as you prop your notebook open on his chest. "keep that there for me."
"yes ma'am," he mumbles, closing his eyes as you work. you flip through a few pages and find what you were looking for, trying to concentrate on transcribing the quote, but it's hard. you're not comfortable, so you keep shifting. san's hands tighten around you, but you ignore it. just a few more minutes and you'll be done, but damn, is your leg cramping? you try to move again, but end up yelping when you feel san pinch your thighs. "baby," he whines. "stop moving. i'm getting hard."
"jesus, really?" you ask, shifting again to see for yourself. "oh hello there."
"stop," san chuckles, looking at you with hooded eyes. "are you almost done?"
"i've got a few more sentences, then i need to proofread it," you reply. "so kinda."
"alright," he nods. "keep working, ace." so you do, reading back a few lines to catch your train of thought. you frown though, feeling san's hands trail up your thighs to play with the material of your panties.
"san, stop," you tell him. "you're being a distraction."
"ah, no i'm not," he says, cupping you in his hold as he sits forward. he fidgets with something for a minute before resting back against the cushions, and you gasp when you feel his cock against you. "i'm motivating you, remember?"
"san, what are you doing-"
"just keep working baby," he coos, pulling your panties to the side before sliding his cock through your folds. "want you to sit on it until you finish."
"funny," you twist his nipple, and he hisses.
"ah, no pun intended," he smiles, "but happy coincidence. come on, i'm bored, and if i don't do this i'll fall asleep."
"then sleep! i won't be able to focus with you...in me."
"try," san kisses you, sitting back with a smirk. "i believe in you baby. now keep working."
you look at the time and groan, because you don't have time to argue with him. you watch as he lifts your hips and sinks into you, letting out a shaky breath once your hips are slotted against his. he keeps his eyes on you, taking in every wince, every jolt, every bite of your lip to stop from whimpering. you feel so full, and san is so warm, and you can't focus but you're almost done-
"read the story to me," san says next, breaking through your thoughts once again.
"hold on," you say, completing the final sentence before you scroll back to the top. "on the record i think you're insane."
"that's a weird way to start an article about baseball," san smirks, so you roll your hips to get him to shut up. you start reading your story, and he listens like he's hooked on every word. at the first mention of his name, he lifts you up slightly before bringing your hips back down and you stutter on your words. "come on ace, keep reading."
"fuck you," you breathe out.
"you are," he smirks again, and you grit your teeth as you continue. you speed through the story, but san keeps slowly fucking you as you go. you find a typo and he stills while you fix it, but as you get to the end he picks up speed. when you finally read the last word, you place a hand on his chest and he stops again.
"let me send this to my editor, please, and then you can keep defiling me," you beg.
"i learn so many new words being around you," san jokes, but you're not listening. you manage to send the story at 11:59 exactly, and you toss your phone away before grabbing onto san's shoulders.
"you need a hobby or something," you get out between moans as he starts fucking you again. "fuck. feel so full, san."
"yeah?" he sighs. "you feel incredible. so tight, so warm for me."
"shit, you're not wearing a condom," you realize. "get out."
"hold on," he whines. "i'll pull out. just give me a minute. are you close?"
"very confident in your skills," you point out. "we haven't been fucking that long."
"but i can feel you dripping around me," he says, pinching your hips. "feel you squeezing me. i know you're loving this baby."
"i'm almost there," you fess up, rolling your hips against him to get some more friction. he brings a hand around to your core, his thumb tracing over your clit so teasingly it's driving you insane. you collapse in his hold, your head resting against his shoulder as you let out breathy moans. he slows down, just to tease you more, and you bite his shoulder.
"ow!"
"keep going," you groan against his skin. "gonna come, fuck-" and you feel your high crash into you, hips jerking against san's as you come. you're quick to hop off of him, which he protests, but you sit before him on your knees as you stroke his cock. he's got to be close, so you bring his tip to your lips to suck him into your mouth. he lets go almost immediately, gasping above you as he comes into your mouth. as soon as he's done, he pulls you off of him with a huff.
"show me, doll," he rasps, and you stick your tongue out to show him his release. you swallow most of it, some drips sneaking past your lips so you sit up and wipe them off on the edge of his boxers, still caught around his knees. "hey!"
"you can deal," you tell him, standing with his help. your legs are shaky, and the exhaustion is really hitting you now. "come on, let's go to bed before you keep us up all night."
-
for the next week or so, you and san fall into a habit of going home with each other after each game. the first two series of the season are at home, so it makes things easy for you. you don't have to talk about what you are to san or vice versa, it's just understood that any free time you have will be spent with each other.
you're getting nervous, though, because the first away series is this weekend. you're strictly a local reporter, so you don't travel with the team. you'll report solely based on what the broadcast team on site is saying, or by bugging the team with phone calls. a little piece of you is nervous that san will fall back into his superstar ways, because he did have a reputation before coming here for having...friends...in every city. you try to push that feeling away for now, but it keeps nagging you at the worst times.
like now, san has cornered you in the clubhouse, kissing you in between questions for your next story and all you can think about is the trip this weekend. you're trying to focus on the story, really. the team is on an unbeaten streak, and some of the guys have cited san as the reason for that. word around the team is that his energy and passion for the game has made them better. you're trying to get something heartfelt out of him, but he's distracted.
"baby, i'm doing some of my best work here," he mumbles against your lips. "can't the questions wait?"
"i'm on a deadline san, you know that," you say as you put your hand on his chest and push back. "two more questions, and then i'm all yours."
"fine," he sighs, taking a step back. his hands stay on your waist as you talk, his thumbs rubbing your skin beneath your shirt. you're able to get what you need, so you stop the recording on your phone and put it away.
"you know, if anyone ever hears those, i'd be fired," you tell him as you drape your arms over his shoulders.
"good thing i'm loaded," san smirks. "i can buy their silence and you can keep your job."
"you know i used to be a clean reporter?" you pinch his neck. "you're really blurring my ethical lines here."
"i won't tell if you don't," he whispers, kissing you again. you stay like that, lips locked together, until a buzzing in san's pocket interrupts you. "ah, i should get that."
"who's calling? you don't have friends," you tease him, your uneasy mind wondering if it's one of his usuals from out of state.
"it's the equipment team," he explains, "they've never packed my stuff for an away trip before so they want to confirm before they ship out."
san answers the call, but keeps a protective arm hooked around you so you can't leave. you distract yourself with a stray thread on his shirt as he talks, and when he hangs up he places his hand over yours.
"whatcha thinking about, ace?"
"when do you leave for the series this weekend?" you ask nonchalantly, avoiding his gaze.
"day after tomorrow," he replies. "i figured we'd get an off day here, but they want us to come in for an extra practice to stay sharp."
"gotta keep that win streak going on the road," you tell him. "like you promised."
"exactly," he smiles. "so when will you leave?"
"huh?"
"for the series," san asks in an equally confused tone. "you're coming with us, right?"
"i don't travel with the team," you shake your head. "so i'll be here, wasting away."
"aw, you're gonna miss me," san coos, pulling you into his side as he walks you down the hall. "guess i gotta fit in as much y/n time as i can before i go."
"seems like it," you give him a tightlipped smile before pulling away. "i gotta go back out to the field, i'm doing a report in a few minutes. so i'll text you when i'm done?"
"sure," he nods, kissing your forehead before you go.
-
you went back to your apartment at the end of the day, tired and mind racing. you're not even dating san, why are you so concerned about what he might get up to on this road trip? you try to busy yourself until san comes by with dinner, so you're in the middle of washing dishes when there's a knock at your door. you let san in, stepping to the side in your small entryway to let him through. it leaves him standing incredibly close to you as you close the door, but once the space is cleared he stays where he is.
"you can come in, weirdo," you laugh. "do you need me to move?"
"no hug? no kiss?" he complains, pouting his lips as if waiting for a smooch.
"my hands are wet," you say as you hold them up, "so no hug, but-" you stand on your toes and aim a kiss perfectly on top of lips, spinning around quickly after to go back to the kitchen. "put everything on the coffee table, i'll get plates."
you walk into your living room to find a feast laid out for you. how'd you miss san carrying in so much food? you place plates down for you both, sitting next to san so your thighs touch. he piles food on your plate as you tell him about the rest of your day, but when he keeps going you make him stop.
"do you think i never eat?" you laugh. "why the mountain of food?"
"i'll be out of town for a while," he shrugs. "gotta make sure you're taken care of before i go."
"right," you nod. "thank you, but this is plenty."
"want me to feed it to you?" he asks with a sappy look on his face, but you know he's serious.
"i'll kick you out if you even try."
"then what about you feeding me?"
"are you excited for the first road trip of the year?" you change the subject.
"i am," he says slowly. "not much to see there, though, so it'll be a boring trip. especially if you're not coming..."
"can't," you remind him. "the big man won't allow it."
"but let's say, i don't know, a player on the team had an extra ticket to the game...then what?"
"huh?" you look at him confused. "what are you saying?"
"if i told you i got you a ticket to the game, would you come?" he asks sincerely. he grabs your hand and squeezes, saying, "i need my good luck charm there."
"san, i don't know," you shake your head. "how would i get there? where would i stay?"
"you could travel with the other wives and girlfriends," he answers. "apparently it's a whole big trip, they do this every year for the first away series."
"but i'm not a wife or a girlfriend," you tell him. "i'm a reporter."
"then why don't you leave the notebook at home and just come to the game as my girlfriend?"
"your girlfriend?" you smile. "i think i can do that."