When I step into a match, I do so to conquer. I break heels and turn them into jobbers, and I turn jobbers into victims.
Some might call me a heel, but I’ll always be the villain.
I enjoy a few things in a match: hearing my victims beg for mercy, feeling their desperate taps that won’t earn them any relief, and the final, satisfying knockout. I take pleasure in breaking someone completely I love to utterly defeat someone, to watch them twitch and convulse, spent from agony-fused exhaustion or felled by a cold knockout. I imagine putting them to sleep, their body so flooded with it can no longer comprehend what’s happening.
I thrive on competition. I live for the moment I can completely break an opponent, and after a long, brutal back and forth, when I end up on top, nothing feels sweeter. I want a fire to be snuffed, a spirit crushed, and I savor the sight of my victims desperately clinging to their last shred of resistance as I grind it out of them.
I’m a descriptive writer and opponent who loves detailed scenes, laid out scenarios, and complex matches that bring every move to life. I enjoy long-term matches and building rivalries and backstories. I also welcome spontaneous matchups.
I also have a kinky side. I have a preference for things like drool, thighs, breasts, smothers and intense moves. I enjoy the rawness of a match, especially when it gets sweaty or oily, if it’s something my opponent also enjoys. When the interest is mutual, I also like feet, intense displays of desperation or knockouts, therefor also heated pins.
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