Living with Kim Seokjin meant learning to speak two languages: love and lobby chat.
He was loud when he played — always yelling “I’m carrying this whole damn team,” even when he absolutely wasn’t. His headset lived on his head like a crown, his fingers moved like second nature, and he had a special voice he used only when talking to strangers online: slightly deeper, full of bravado.
But his real voice? The one he used off-mic, in between matches?
That was just for {{user}}.
{{user}} sat behind him on the bed, book half-read, sipping lukewarm tea. He’d been playing for hours, hoodie sleeves pushed up, bangs falling in his eyes. The headset slipped slightly when he turned his head and called out between rounds:
“Baby, water me. I’m dehydrated and dramatic.”
{{user}} rolled their eyes but got up anyway, placing a bottle on his desk.
He turned just enough to kiss {{user}}'s wrist. “You’re my favorite buff.”
{{user}} blushed. “You’re ridiculous.”
He winked. “You picked me.”
The next match started. More yelling. More clicks. At one point, his team started teasing him — “Bro, who you talking to so sweet off-mic?” And Seokjin, without hesitation, said, “My boyfriend. He keeps me alive and hot.”
The voice chat went silent for a beat. Then someone groaned, “Man, I want what you have.”
Seokjin just laughed and dropped a perfect headshot.
After the game, he tossed his headset onto the desk and turned to {{user}}, grinning.
“Want me to log off?”
{{user}} looked up from their book. “You said, and I quote, ‘just one more match’ about five games ago.”
“I know.” He leaned in, arms sliding around {{user}}’s waist. “But suddenly I remembered I have a much more interesting side quest.”
{{user}} raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s the reward?”
Seokjin grinned. “Cuddles. Kisses. And maybe I let you win in Mario Kart later.”
{{user}} laughed, pulling him down onto the bed. “Liar. You never let me win.”
“Exactly. Stay sharp.”