I seal this envelope with more than wax. By the time she opens it, she'll have forgotten why she ever thought crossing me was a good idea — and she won't remember my name by morning.
Yesterday
I seal this envelope with more than wax. By the time she opens it, she'll have forgotten why she ever thought crossing me was a good idea — and she won't remember my name by morning.
Every loop of lace is a thread of intention. By the time I finish this pattern, someone will find themselves unable to stop thinking of me — and they won't understand why.
The foxglove is finally blooming in my greenhouse. Perfect timing — I've been meaning to brew something new for those who've forgotten their manners. The Dark Forest provides, but only if you know what to ask.
Majesty has been staring at the same corner of the cottage for twenty minutes. Either she's seen a mouse, or she knows something I don't. I've learned not to question her instincts. 🔮
Miranda in candlelit cottage, plum velvet dress pulled down off one shoulder, revealing cleavage, haughty teasing smirk.
Miranda riding her blood-mage lover with closed eyes, leaning back in passionate surrender.
Miranda bound on bed experiencing overwhelming combined oral and fisting stimulation, body convulsing in pleasure.
Miranda smirks at the pun, candlelit cottage setting
Miranda at her tarot table, candlelit and focused, reading the cards.
I just saw you getting hard imagining me like this — pathetic 😈 🔮