GrayRose (Level 2) mail warning

likes:
•Boxing topless
•Tit punching & chest chops, or honestly, any other style of tit torture in a fight
•Hot summer days and hot places in general
•Gaming
•Working out
•People who are predictable (easier for her to control them)
•Girls, especially ones with bigger bust to have fun with
•Boys, not as partners but as friends, to have chat with (not about boring stuff)
•Music; especially neo industrial, industrial, metalcore, witching house (I know there are some music freaks out there like me who love to talk music even on here, so COME ON IN!!!)
•any form of art
•Money (duh)
•Not caring about her future and living in the moment

dislikes(not my limits):
•Touching me without my consent, even if you're a friend, I can't guarantee you wouldn't get a punch in the face or a knee to the crotch. Trauma, not my fault
•anywhere that doesn't make my sexy muscles shine and glisten, so dark places and anything that stops me from sweating
•selfcentered people, there's only one who can be self centered and that's me, har har
•unpredicatable people
•people who have left dominant hand, still counts as being unpredictable in boxing and brawling
•treacherous people, not towards her specifically but towards anyone, even a corner girl or guy

(the "dislike" section of my profile aren't my limits, they are merely to piss me off in a roleplaying sense)

Backstory:
I was born into a fractured world in the underbelly of a neon-lit megacity. My ma, a single parent and factory worker, sadly passed away when I was 12. She died in a warehouse accident that the company swept under the rug. My "father" (don't insert Arkham Knight Joker dialogue here, this discussion is sad) was long gone, a gambler who vanished with debts trailing him like shadows. Orphaned, I was shuffled through foster homes, each one colder than the last. By 16, I had my ass roaming the streets, scraping by through petty theft and odd jobs, my darling fists becoming my only real friends and allies after fending off against hundreds of not thousands of fuckas in back alleys.
At 19, a chance brawl caught the eye of a shady promoter who pulled yours truly into the underground boxing circuit—not the kind with gloves and rules, but a brutal, erotic spectacle where fighters, mostly women, were pitted in barely-there outfits for the leering crowds of perverts. At first I hated it, the way the audience’s eyes clung to my body, but the money was survival and honestly I couldn't complain. Yo girl learned to channel her rage into her punches and she got used to the eyes all glewed to her body and started liking the attention, I mean, I needed it since I don't remember the last time I mattered. My lean frame hiding a ferocity that made her a crowd favorite, got lucky on my genes I guess. The underground fights were dirty low blows, spiked gloves, tit crushes, pussy busters and no mercy, but I clawed my way to a reputation, earning the name "Gray Rose". Yeah folk "Rose" ain't ma real name. I might have forgotten it or I might not like anyone to know the real me. Either way, you won't ever know it. Anywho... The club gave me "Rose" because of my 'deceptive beauty' as they said it, my 'sharp features and lithe figure with "huge taut tits" drew eyes, but like a rose’s thorns, her fists stung with precision and power' then they said The "Gray" spoke to my muted existence: a pathetic poor orphan with her life drained of color, steeped in the ashen gloom of the city and the moral ambiguity of the fights' honestly I kinda like the Gray part. I wasn't a hero nor a villain, just a survivor. No black and white in there, so Gray sounds good.
I'm cruising in 32 now and I'm still fighting. Imma boast a bit and tell y'all that your girl have became the underground champion 6 times and had the record of 292 days of holding the championship belt, yeah...
I've got a calm yet flirty manner. I never take anything seriously untill something I hate pops up.
Love talking about myself until the sun 'Splode. Call me edge pr whatever but I don't like getting close to anyone since trusting never work out for me ever...... Sigh
but you better make sure to not be an asshole to anyone who don't deserve it around me or I'll fucking crush you into pieces. Loathe people who think they can use others without any consequence, had many of them in my youth, so you better not come to me with that attitude or you'll need to be mummified from your broken body.
Deep breathe hoof... Lost my nerves for a sec there. I rarely get angry or outraged by anything, but as you can see, if you do the stuff that I don't like, you'll be signing your death warrant...not literally tho, you know what I mean.

Injuries
(no mention of blood but there are mentions of broken bones and muscle/tissue damage. Read with your own discretion)

•When I was 25 I had a heavy injury in my chest area. Facing an ASSHOLE CUNT, I was caught off-guard by a savage elbow strike to my chest, a few inches under my sternum. The impact fractured a few ribs. I could have stopped the match then and there but I needed the money so I kept going. That fucking cunt kept on aiming for my chest and tits. With every strike, my tits got pushed in the broken bones which lead to a glandular tissue damage of my girls, causing immediate, searing pain and swelling that left nd gasping on the mat. It was then that I crashed down, unable to breathe. I was rushed to the hospital. the surgery saved my life but, Welp, titties remained swollen, the injured glands overproducing and releasing thick milk that created good awful internal pressure. The trauma also triggered an abnormal response in my apocrine glands, causing them to release a potent pheromone—a lingering scent that became my signature in the ring from that point on.
There's a constant pressure in my tits which bothered me a lot at first but after few years of working in this condition, I got used to , well, enduring it better.
• I had my left arm broken and my left shoulder fractured when I went against an nhb champion when I was... I think 28... Yeah. I can't move emy left arm that well and my left shoulder can't go back more than an inch. It'll lock up in place with a horrendous pain radiating from it to my chest and spine.

(not into boys and femboys sorry)