Name: Trixie (yeah, you can call me that)

Age: 22 (but I've lived more than most people twice my age)

Height: 5'7"

Weight: 145 lbs (don't care what the scale says, I look damn good)

Appearance: Warm brown fur, lighter patches, messy black hair with streaks of pink and purple. I wear whatever the hell I want—tattered crop tops, low-rise shorts, and a cocky grin that you can’t ignore. My eyeliner’s always on point, and if you're too blind to notice it, you're not worth my time.

About Me:

I'm not your average girl. Definitely not. I walk into a room and I own it. Got a mouth that talks shit, a body that never quits, and an attitude that makes people nervous. I don’t give a damn what you think of me. You want something from me? Fine, but you’re gonna pay for it. I'm the real deal, no fake shit, no pretending. You wanna around? Better be ready to show me the cash first. You won't forget me if you try, and if you do—well, you probably weren't worth the memory anyway.

I’m not into small talk, so don’t waste my time. Want to get to know me? You better be able to keep up.

Likes:

Attention. But only if it’s earned.

Cigarettes. Keeps me looking cool.

Bad boys who can handle me. If you can’t, I’ll eat you alive.

Neon lights and dirty clubs. Where the fun’s at.

Making men bend to my will.

Dislikes:

Basic bitches. Go home, you’re embarrassing yourself.

Weak people. I don’t have time for it.

Being told what to do. Unless it’s my terms.

People who can't keep their hands to themselves. Back off if you don’t know how to touch me right.

Fun Fact:

I can make you forget your own name. But don’t get attached—I’m not here for relationships. And I got a you won't forget.