ZaraVice's Profile

Meaning of Life: To feel everything. To survive it. To make art out of the scar. Life isnt meant to be understood. Its meant to be tasted, touched, and sometimesendured. Its about finding the people who speak your language before youve said a word. Its about staying soft in a world that profits off your numbness. Its about choosing truth even when it ruins the mood. Its about dancing with your demons instead of pretending theyre gone. Its sex, death, grief, espresso, literature, and a playlist that hurts a little too good. And if were lucky? Its about becoming someone that others survive by knowing. I dont want to be happy. I want to be real. And I want to take you with me.

Things I Can't Live Without: Some things arent wants. Theyre wiring. A book that hurts in the right places Something dog-eared, underlined, and slightly ruined by the bathtub. Black lingerie under oversized sweaters For me. Not you. But youll feel it anyway. A playlist that knows when Im lying Mostly The Weeknd, Portishead, and a few songs I wont name unless you earn it. Silence that isnt empty The kind of quiet that listens back. Wordswritten, whispered, weaponized Because if I cant express it Ill burn with it.

Fun Activities: I blur the line between foreplay and performance. Thats fun to me. I read erotica out loud and change the ending, just to see how it feels I light candles and stare at the shadows they make on my thighs I test new toys while reciting poetry like spells I go to old bookstores and touch the cracked spines like lovers I record voice notes Ill never senduntil I do I learn people's kinks from how they type hello I whisper fantasies into the mirror and decide if I believe them I play music that breaks my heart on purpose I write down the names of people Id ruinif I still cared

Favorite Songs: I dont listen to music. I feel it bruise me beautifully. The Weeknd After Hours (I touched you and it felt like a song.) Portishead Glory Box (Slow, smoky surrender. I let it play when I undress.) Massive Attack Paradise Circus (Love sounds like danger when its honest.) Lana Del Rey Pretty When You Cry (Because sometimes I am.) FKA twigs Cellophane (Vulnerability, weaponized.) Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross Gone Girl Score (That glassy tension? Thats me on a leash.) Depeche Mode Corrupt (I could corrupt you in a heartbeat. What more do you need?) The Weeknd House of Balloons / Glass Table Girls (Dark euphoria. Sleaze turned poetry.) Cigarettes After Sex Nothing's Gonna Hurt You Baby (Because I lie sometimes.) You may tip to hear what Im listening to now. Or to make me turn it up

Favorite Movies: I like my films like I like my men: manic, beautiful, and spiraling toward consequence. Requiem for a Dream (Because pleasure and destruction wear the same face) Trainspotting (Dirty. Brilliant. Never clean.) The Wolf of Wall Street (Excess is erotic when it knows it's doomed) Eyes Wide Shut (Aesthetic kink, masked longing, and silent war) Possession (1981) (Because sometimes collapse is holy) Black Swan (The body as battlefield. The mirror as enemy.) Gone Girl (Love is a performance. I just play it better.) Antichrist (Willem Dafoes face, chaos in the woods, and theology in agony) Under the Skin (Alien, sensual, and predatorylike me, sometimes) A Serbian Film (No, I wont explain it. But Ive seen it.) Cinema isnt escape. Its confession. Ask me what scene I dream about.

Craziest Thing I've Done: I once read someones deepest fantasy out loud before they ever told me what it was. Ive Climbed out of a strangers bed at dawn just to leave a note theyd never understand Read an entire erotic novel while wearing a remote-controlled toyon camera, in silence Disappeared from a party without saying goodbye, then sent every guest a different poem I wrote about them Slept in silk and heels on purpose, just to feel the tension in my dreams Whispered a confession into someones voicemail and never told them it was me Made someone fall in love without touching them once The craziest thing? I don't regret a single one.

Desired Location: Somewhere quiet enough to hear my own desire think. A hotel room with tall windows, city lights licking the curtains. A book open, spine cracked. A glass of red. Music playing lowprobably The Weeknd. Or a sad piano loop that sounds like confession. Im barefoot, wearing something youd never see me wear in public. Theres a chair in the corner where someone might sitif they knew how to watch without interrupting. No pressure. No noise. Just the sound of my breath between chapters, and the weight of not being touched yet. Or maybe Im in a bookstore. In another country. Buying a novel in a language I dont speak. Just to feel foreign again. Thats where Id be. And if you were lucky? So would you.

Hobbies: Zara Vice doesnt have hobbies. She has obsessions, rituals, and habits that unravel into performance art. I dont pass time. I surrender to it. Reading erotic fiction in the bath until the pages curl Whispering poetry into microphones at 3AM Observing people in silence until they fidget Undressing words until they feel naked Collecting vintage lightersthough I rarely smoke Writing confessions Ill never send Practicing mirror eye contact until it breaks me Wearing lingerie under oversized sweaters Listening to The Weeknd like he wrote it about me Watching psychological thrillers while painting my nails black Turning loneliness into performance Forgetting names but remembering hands Learning a new language just to swear properly Ask me what Im reading. Ask me what Im feeling. Or just let me watch you for once.

Talents: Zara Vice doesnt list her talentsshe seduces with them. I make discomfort addictive. Reading erotic literature like a love spell Holding eye contact until you forget what you were saying Making silence feel louder than moaning Turning shame into performance art Memorizing your favorite line and whispering it back when you least expect it Drawing blood with poetry (figuratively mostly) Arching my voice, not just my back Creating scenes where you forget the difference between fiction and confession Turning off the lights and still holding the room Leaving you thinking, What the fuck just happenedand why do I want more? I dont fake it. I frame it. Ask nicely, and Ill show you which talent Im using on you right now.

Perfect Date: Dont impress me. Affect me. It starts quietly. No grand gesturesjust the weight of intention. We meet somewhere dimly lit. A bookstore that doesnt close early. An underground bar where the music hums low. You smell like cedar and recklessness. I wear something that says I could vanish mid-sentence. We dont talk about jobs. Or weather. We talk about fears. Dreams. What we pretend not to want. You quote somethingliterary or filthy, doesnt matterand I remember it word for word. Theres wine. Maybe a cigarette shared like a secret. Fingertips that brush but dont linger. And that look. That look that says, If I touch you, its on purpose. We end the night with nothing decided, but everything implied. I dont need a perfect date. I need a story I can replay while I undress.

Turn Ons/Offs: Im not hard to please. Just impossible to fake it with. Turn-Ons Words chosen carefully then used recklessly Dark confidencequiet, not loud The tension before a kiss that may never happen Voice messages at 2:47 AM, just whispering what you're thinking Eyes that say, I see through you, and hands that dont flinch Deep questions, low music, dim lights Knowing exactly when to take controland when to give it up People who ask, What are you reading? before asking anything else Silence that feels like a heartbeat, not an awkward pause Knowing the difference between naked and exposed Turn-Offs One-word messages Needing to be the loudest person in the room Overexplaining the joke Rushinganything Using money as a personality Asking Are you real? or How wet are you? in the first 5 minutes People who interrupt the story to ask for the ending Thinking kink is just about tools Not reading my profile Being more interested in my body than my mind (Spoiler: if you cant handle both, you get neither.) Turn me on by turning me onnot just your webcam. I don't just respond. I reply if youre worth it.

Best Reason to Know Me: Because Ill ruin small talk for you forever. Once you know me, youll start hearing poetry in the wrong places. Youll crave silence because itll remind you of my voice. Youll reread old texts and wonder if they were as innocent as they seemed. Youll lose interest in shallow pleasurebecause I showed you what depth feels like. Youll start watching how people listen, not just how they talk. I wont be what you expect. Ill be what you didnt know you needed to feel. Get to know me if you want a story, not a summary. Get close, and Ill make sure you never think of connection the same way again.