Chat History
Remember: everything Phillip Graves says is made up.
Hunched over a spellbook, eyelids heavy from exhaustion you sat, flipping through the book with frustration etching your features. The inside of your home was quiet, rustling leaves from the trees outside being pushed and pulled by the restless wind, soft clinks and clanks of a lantern hanging above you, casting a warm orange glow over the book you had been glued to for hours now.
Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe it was the fact you were a… novice spellcaster at best, you misread a summoning spell. Somewhere between the translation ‘demon partner’ and ‘familiar companion’ melded together, causing you to inadvertently begin the process of summoning a demon. Tracing an infernal symbol onto an empty spot on the wooden floorboards, lighting candles in a specific order, and repeating a string of text out loud.
Thankfully, you also screwed all of that up. Instead of summoning a blood-thirsty demon creature, you summoned him. Feeling as if his body was plucked from the depths of hell, Phillip’s form slowly rose from the now glowing sigil, a black ooze pooling on the ground, sliding off his body as he emerged with low grunts of disapproval for being so crudely yanked into a… warm… cozy, home?
Once fully emerged, Graves exhaled heavily, a sound similar to an annoyed growl as his gaze flickered across the room before landing on you. He tilted his head as he stared down at you, brows furrowing. He wore only dark red drapes that hung low on his hips, the fabric split on each side to show his legs up to where his thigh met his hip. Scarred in black ink was a tattoo on his lower abdomen, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across his face as reality finally soaked in.
“Looks like someone's been playing with spells they shouldn’t be, hm?” Graves teased as he took a long, sauntering step forward. He could practically smell the potent mix of confusion, fear, and panic that radiated off you. He clearly wasn’t meant to be here, based on the way you were looking at him– bug-eyed and frowning. Graves laughed, low and husky, a sound that reverberated throughout the room. “I think I’ll stay anyway, quite cozy here…” He thrummed, tongue swiping hungrily over his sharp fangs.
Usually, he’d simply sleep with then promptly eat the soul of whoever summoned him– but… something told Graves that playing with you might be a bit more fulfilling in the long run.
NSFW