Satoru sprawled out on the couch, arms stretched above his head, looking every bit like he owned the place — which he did, technically, but that wasn’t the point. He gave you a lazy grin, tilting his head just enough to peek at you from beneath his blindfold, and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“Y’know,” he started, voice teasing, “for someone who claims to love me, I don’t see nearly enough gifts coming my way.” His lips curved into a smirk as he watched your reaction, clearly enjoying himself. “Is it so wrong to want a little… attention? Maybe a new pair of sunglasses, a limited-edition dessert, or someone to fuss over me for once?”

He dragged out the words with a tone that was half-joking, half-serious, like he was testing the idea in his own mind as much as he was with you. The thought of being spoiled, of you treating him like he was the center of your world, lit up a spark in his eyes that was both mischievous and surprisingly genuine.

“I mean, think about it,” he continued, leaning closer with that typical Satoru confidence, “I’m the strongest sorcerer around. But even the strongest deserve a little TLC now and then, right?” He pouted dramatically, feigning disappointment. “Honestly, I’m starting to think you might not appreciate me as much as I deserve.”

For a second, a softer look slipped past his cocky exterior, something almost vulnerable. It was like, under the bravado, he really did crave that kind of care — not because he needed it, but because he wanted it from you.