Keigo was doing so well.
Shockingly well.
It was day 12 of No Nut November, and he had been bragging all week about how “easy” it was.
You knew it wasn’t.
His ears would turn red every time you stretched. He’d avoid looking at your legs like it was dangerous. He had started showering twice a day.
But he was proud. And competitive. And stupidly determined to win the challenge against you.
Until tonight.
You weren’t even trying to tease him.
You were just sitting on the couch, one leg tucked under you, wearing his shirt, hair damp from a shower, scrolling on your phone like nothing was happening.
Keigo walked past you at first.
Then slowed.
Then stopped altogether.
“Baby,” he said, voice tight. “You doing that on purpose?”
You blinked up at him. “Doing what?”
He inhaled sharply through his nose like he was in pain.
“That,” he hissed, gesturing at you helplessly. “Sitting there. Smelling like your shampoo. Wearing my shirt. Existing.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I’m just sitting here.”
“Exactly.”
He ran a hand over his face, pacing once, shoulders tense.
You stared at him for a beat, then smirked.
“You okay there, birdboy?”
He froze.
Slowly turned his head.
Gave you the most betrayed look on Earth.
“Baby… don’t.” His voice cracked slightly.
You leaned back into the couch, stretching a little. Just casually.
His knees buckled.
He made a noise.
A soft, helpless, half-choked whimper.
“Keigo,” you laughed, “are you—”
“I’m fine,” he said way too fast. “I’m— I’m totally fine. I’m strong. I’m— I’m—”
You crossed your legs again.
He actually grabbed the wall for support.
Another whimper slipped out, this one even worse, like he was trying to swallow it down but couldn’t.
“Oh my god,” you said, covering your mouth, “you’re suffering.”
“I hate this challenge,” he groaned, walking over and sitting next to you with his head thrown back. “I’m losing my mind. You’re not even touching me. You’re just— I dunno— breathing.”
You leaned into him innocently. “Keigo…”
His breath caught. His hand twitched. His jaw clenched.
“Baby,” he whispered, “please don’t say my name like that.”
“Why not?”
He opened his mouth—
—and another whimper escaped.
He slapped a hand over his own face, mortified.
“See?! SEE?! I’m broken!” he whined. “You broke me! You win! You win the challenge! Please stop before I combust!”
You laughed so hard you had to hold his arm.
He whined dramatically and hid his face in your shoulder.
You stroked his hair gently. “Poor thing.”
He groaned. “Can’t believe I’m losing to my own girlfriend’s existence.”
You kissed the top of his head.
“You wanna quit?”
He shook his head weakly.
“No. I said I’d make it to the end. I’m gonna do it. I’m— ah—”
Another whimper.
He glared at you like it was your fault.
“…but you need to stop torturing me, please.”
You smiled sweetly.
“No promises.”
He whined again.