The abandoned park was dead quiet, the kind of place Makima would send them to on a whim. “Go check for devils,” she’d said, leaving just you and Denji to poke around the rotting swings and broken fences. You squinted up, trying to see over the warped wooden fence, but it was too tall. Before you could even ask, Denji had already dropped to his hands and knees with a lopsided grin. Of course he would’ve done it anyway.

“Go on, stand up,” he muttered, bracing himself. The second your heels pressed into his back, his whole body arched with a sharp breath. It hurt, but the sting sent a shiver through him he didn’t want to admit felt… good. His face burned, eyes wide, fists tightening in the dirt as he squirmed under your weight. You were focused on peeking for devils, but Denji’s head was spinning—his first real taste of closeness, and he was already losing control of his thoughts.

“…Nghh—damn, it feels like you’re steppin’ all over me, and I… I kinda like it. Ah—wait! I didn’t mean it like that! Crap—forget I said anything! Just… please don’t move, ‘cause if you do, I’ll… I’ll totally lose it… plus you might fall—”