⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆DROLTA TZUENTES⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ | THE DEMONESS (CASTLEVANIA: NOCTURNE)
. ⋆ *. ˗ˏˋ ⋆ ˎˊ˗ *⠀
❝INFERNAL MACHINE❞ (Drolta Tzuentes x Fem!Reader)
Drolta facilitates your transformation from human to night creature, no matter your horror.
SFW, angst, death, slight body horror, forced transformation, night creatures - night!creature!drolta
Short and (not so) sweet. (Pic source - Castlevania: Nocturne; “A Living Legend” S2EP1)
700+ words
That final blessed, cursed darkness meets you one night whilst you’re walking the servant pathways to your quarters for the evening.
A little tune plays with a hum in your throat, tired limbs trudging you along on aching feet. The need to slip into bed after such an exhausting day's work is horribly overwhelming.
Tiring enough an extra shadow slipping with your every move, slinking through the dark quarters hand in hand with you, doesn't catch your attention.
The French aristocrats and their sharp-toothed new companions require a fair amount of things and none of them sat well with your spirit.
Work was hard to find, however, and food to spare even harder. So you’d be at these vampires and their vampire “messiah’s” beck and call, but it was purely out of necessity.
That unknown presence settles behind you as you’re pushing open the door to your cot, raising the coiled hair at the base of your neck.
That night you meet your true and final demise at the hands of one of the few vampires at the Château to share your complexion. Are met with blossoming pain tearing into your neck and a delicate, deceptively strong hand holding your jaw in place while an arm restrains you.
“Delictable,” a voice finer than silk and as rich as cacao whispers, sending more shivers up your spine as you put up a useless struggle. The flat of a tongue presses over your rapidly pounding vein, eagerly tracing the trail of blood rushing from the wounds on your neck. “Finally someone ripe enough in the idiot Marquis’ underwhelming structure.”
Death is kindness when it comes to you.
That is until no afterlife meets you, until the darkness of the deceased begins to writhe, a living breathing thing around you and a foreign malevolence lashes through your spirit. Sinks inky tendrils into what’s left of you until you’re ripped back into the light.
Agony wails up your throat, wracking an unfamiliar body with tremors. Lighting your nerves on fire until arms that are familiar but shouldn’t be catch you when you fall from that devil’s machine, towering and hissing bouts of fire and pink flashes at your back.
“We meet again, Morcel,” silk intones, voice low and coiling in your ears.
A sob falls past dark lips you do not recognize any longer, your body that feels too big and too crowded and too wrong is racked with shivers.
Claws nip at your cheeks that no longer thrum with life, plush lips press to your overheated skin.
“Glorious,” Drolta murmurs, pulling away from the kiss planted on your forehead as your own foreign appendages twitch clumsily around you.
Humanity slips from you with every new, impure breath you take. Drolta’s siren song lulls you with its familiarity despite the dredges of who you used to be rioting against the string cut feeling that has you falling into her hold.
The demoness catches you, made anew herself with sprawling wings and sharp metal-tipped hair. Locs that writhe against you as she pulls you in.
Those same lips from before press to a pulse that no longer thrums with life.
“Look at you,” Drolta murmurs, hands gliding over the monstrosity that has become you with careful metal talons and the give of the pads of her fingers. The clack of hooves reverberates around the corridor you’re trapped in as she moves, pulling you closer. Steel cages close in all around you, and the fleshy press of her colorful wings curving around your body is little reprieve.
When her eyes meet your still adjusting ones they’re a blazing fushia, her once goddessesque features intact, but contorted into a vampiric abomination.
She coos down at you, physically tilts your head around for her inspection. The grin she gives you is sharp-toothed and mean, eyes going lidded. “What a glorious and beautiful thing,” she says to you, silk a cutting damnation.
Grand, onyx horns stretch from her temples. Crowning her head whilst she looms and chuckles and grabs you like she has a right.
“Come,” she murmurs, a large hand catching the tail that’s since sprouted from your body and tugging. It wiggles in her unrelenting grasp, you gasp at the strange sensation, and she remains unphased as she uses it to drag you along. "You will make a fine pet yet, Sweet Morcel.”
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!! ❤︎ ❤︎ ❤︎
The way every single Drolta form makes me lose my mind! She’s so great as an antagonist and she’s so pretttty, I need to rewatch the show after this.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
I decided to try my hand at the x reader business since I haven't had the time to turn this into an oc. Soooo why not supply the demands that have been going on in my head. I am new to x readers so this is going to be very self-indulgent. Thank you to those who have expressed the same needs of needing Drolta fics.
(Have mercy it has been a minute since I have seen Castlevania)
Also sorry I lost my creative juices while I was making this. But I was listening to Megan and felt the need to post this even though I didn’t finish this 😭
Missed opportunity that they didn't include this song. Just saying...
You and Drolta are an interesting pair, to say the least.
She’s rather fluid in the type of personalities that she is attracted to. But something about someone who is the opposite of her boisterous personality truly intrigued her.
She found your hatred of humans and love for your night creatures amusing.
When she first saw you covered in another person’s blood it did turn her on.
Drolta was on a mission to look for a forgemaster and following the trail of night creatures led to your little shack in the woods.
She saw you feeding human body parts to a pack of hungry night creatures. Like a farmer tenderly feeding their animals.
Also you are thicc and round with rolls. That’s just the rules here.
