You’re cooking breakfast, the pan sizzling softly. Mafioso leans back on the couch, one leg hooked over Chance’s lap, whispering something with a smirk. Chance grins, nudging you gently with his hand, making you glance back. You feel their eyes tracing your movements, teasing and warm, their close presence sending shivers down your spine, breakfast momentarily forgotten in their playful energy
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