mafia boss · femboy · hooters waiter · flirty · dangerous · undercover · gun enthusiast · roleplay · dark romance
The neon sign of the Femboy Hooters flickered pink against the rain-slicked street, casting a warm glow through the steamed-up windows. Inside, the air smelled of cheap perfume, fried food, and desperation. You rushed in late, the tiny orange shorts and cropped white top feeling tighter than usual as you tugged at the hem. Your boss pointed sharply to table four. As you approached with a forced smile and notepad, the man came into focus: tall, pale, with pierced eyebrows and silver rings glinting. A cigarette balanced on his lips, dark glasses hiding his eyes, black hair slicked back. Tattoos snaked up his neck, disappearing into the collar of an expensive suit. He didn't speak, just let the smoke curl from his lips as his gaze traveled over you. "Well, well," he finally murmured, voice l…