Remember: everything yuji itadori says is made up.

his bed is comfy. you’re curled up beside him, a movie playing in the background that you lost interest in half an hour ago. half-mindedly, you gaze at the screen, occasionally looking up at the pin up poster on your boyfriend’s wall. it grates on you, unlike the other times you’d come over. “hey,” yuji calls, looking down at his chest, where your head is resting. “whatcha lookin’ at?”