Chapter Text
He was just a heap in one of the less accessible corridors when you’d come across him, and yet still the empty armor sought to challenge you. The effort was brief; his rusted body restricted his motion, making him slow to stand and jerky in his movements. Drawing his corroded sword proved to be a rather noticeable challenge, and swinging it with any speed or dexterity was one he could not overcome. You’d watched all the fight leave him after you simply stepped back from his first attempt to cut you down, as if the reality of his condition suddenly set in, like a shambling corpse finally noticing their own decay. Rather than straining against it, he accepted his fate then and there, probably wanting to die with dignity.
It was pitiful, really.
You didn’t finish him off, though you could have. No, you left, returning with a cart and some sturdy rope, determined to take him away and fix him. He put up far more of a fight then, forgoing his prior silence to curse you, threaten you, call you a fool for seeking to salvage one so far gone as himself. He was being wheeled through the dungeon by that point, and was clearly not convinced you were intending to do anything other than take him apart to sell his pieces, if the underlying wariness in his raspy voice was any indication. The only thing he would potentially be losing was the dignity he’d tried to take to the grave, depending on how he behaved. Luckily for you, your destination wasn’t too far away.
The actual restoration was less grueling than you had expected it to be. He struggled a lot initially, forcing you to tie him down and stuff a pillow in his helm to keep him still and quiet— you couldn’t let others know about your latest pet project, after all. In his state, rope was more than enough to keep him right where you wanted him, though you did at least let him look around your workshop— or torture chamber, as he’d called it on arrival— between sessions. The repairs and restoration couldn’t be completed in one sitting, of course, and it’s not as if he made it any faster by resisting.
After the first two days of feeling you scrubbing away the rust, he started to settle in. He certainly didn’t trust you, nor did you trust him enough to loosen his restraints, but you were certain he’d begun to enjoy the process just based on how relaxed he became. There was no more yanking himself away or making you fight just to slip one piece of metal off of another; at worst he picked inconvenient resting positions for his limbs. Usually he was rather loose, but at times you felt him tense up as you worked, particularly when your hands were inside him. He seemed to get particularly excited when you’d cleaned his faulds and cuisses; much less so when it came to sorting out his helmet. The open face design granted relatively easy access, but, much like someone refusing to allow dental work, he kept trying to shut it on you.
You eventually wired it open to let yourself work after being bitten a few times too many.
This inadvertently invited him to opine on your work, what with being literally unable to keep his mouth shut. At times it was positive, like appreciating your attention to detail when you’d been restoring his gauntlets, or even complimenting your skill. Sometimes he told you how to handle certain pieces, particularly when it came to removing them properly— something he had been adamantly against allowing you to do at first, and which meant going back over many areas you’d already worked on now that he changed his mind. Based on what you were allowed to reach, his inner portions were, thankfully, in far better shape compared to his exterior. In any case, most of the time he just complained or insisted on how foolish you were for aiding an enemy like this, earning himself more rope when he slipped up and revealed how much more he could now move thanks to your efforts.
Here and there, however, he made more… Unusual comments. One time he had lamented not having a larger codpiece for you to scrub; you weren’t sure if it was a dirty joke or a genuine source of disappointment. Probably both in hindsight. In another instance he mused about how it would feel to have you squirming inside him, insisting you should put him on when you were all finished to truly appreciate the fruits of your labor; had he started with that instead of detailing a few of his more unsavory fantasies, you might have considered it. For a while he became fixated on your lips and the idea of sticking his fingers between them; you know he would have tried if you hadn’t kept his arms securely tied. You just did your best to ignore his nonsense for the most part, diligently making sure you remain in control of the situation.
Now, the day has finally come when his body shines again and is, for the most part, properly treated to be less susceptible to corrosion. There were places you couldn’t reach because he refused to let you; apparently it can be rather painful to deconstruct their bodies for proper maintenance, hence his falling into such a sorry state— or so he said. He guarded his cuirass particularly closely, much to your chagrin. Nonetheless you did what you could, and now you can finally call this project complete while he calls you various insults. Unfortunately for the animated armor, you’re not finished with him yet. You did, after all, just spend nearly a week saving him from the brink, and that’s not something to take lightly.
You force him to swear an oath not to harm you, lest you slay him here and now— destroying your work would be less than preferable, but it’s always on the table if said work could turn around and kill you instead.
“It is not as if you are giving me much of a choice.” He replies, straining against his bindings and finding them to be just as secure as they were during his last nine or so attempts to break them. “I promise, no, swear I will not kill you.”
You wait.
“… I swear I will not harm you.”
You then tell him you’re going to take him home and show him how nice life can be when you treat others with respect and are respected in turn.
“Oh, you’re one of those types… Hmph. Fine. But don’t expect me to become soft overnight, human; where I’m from, gentleness is a habit learned by those with a death wish. It will take me time to adjust.”
Finally, you insist he will not be allowed to kill any humans, or even other monsters, who were not posing an active threat. This, surprisingly, seems to be the least difficult for him to agree to. In fact, he commits to a bit more than you expected of him.
“I swear not to attack or kill anyone unnecessarily.”
You hesitate for a time, before taking a deep breath and untying the rope; cutting it would be faster, but also more wasteful.
As soon as he is able, the faceless knight stands, taking a little bit to walk around and appreciate his newly restored range of motion. He adapts quickly to the few new additions you’d made; some of his body had been too far gone to salvage. Luckily for him, you’ve dealt with animated armor before, and had a few spares laying around… He didn’t question your source, so you didn’t feel the need to tell him. After a little while, he turns to you rather expectantly.
“Alright, human. Take me home.”
You nod, moving to lead the way.
The instant your back turns he is upon you like a predator pouncing on prey, shoving you forward and pinning you to the wall with immense ease. His attack is so sudden and forceful you are unable to properly react, stunned and breathless. There is no rust to save you now, and certainly no hesitation; his pride has been wounded, and it would appear he intends to retaliate. Though you cannot see him, you hear and feel the monster laugh, and for the first time you hear genuine happiness in his voice. It is painfully obvious he has been planning this from the start.
“You fool! Did you really think you could take me at my word, or that a few asinine promises would stop me? I am not some mindless beast to be tamed! No, I am the victor of our long-delayed bout, and now I shall claim my spoils.”
Before you can attempt a response, he knocks you out cold.
The first thing he does is drop you on the floor and ransack your workshop, taking anything that interests him or which might hold some value. On a whim, he decides to take many of the tools you’d used on him; they could prove to be useful down the line. The rope he had come to hate is not forgotten either; he makes sure to tie you to his back extra tightly, before carrying you and many of your stolen belongings back to his old stomping grounds, just beyond where you’d initially abducted him from. Though it had laid abandoned for months in the wake of his deterioration, his home has miraculously remained intact, perhaps thanks to his violent reputation warding off any squatters with a sense of self-preservation.
It takes him a little bit to sort away what he’d brought back, and some things end up dumped on the floor to deal with later, including you. Later comes quickly, and he is still unsure of what to do with his new human. Part of him wants to kill you, but that seems like the least satisfying option. You deserve far more, both in light of him admittedly owing you and your moronic kindness for feeling the best he’s felt in years, and the fact you took him away against his will, objectified him, and sought to force him into a new life he didn’t want. Turning the tables certainly seems to be an appealing option… You’re not going to be able to stop him so easily.
Though not the most elegant method of self-gratification, he starts pleasuring himself by rubbing your hands over his more sensitive areas. Without your dexterity, he regrettably finds it far less effective than when you had done it yourself. What you hadn’t done was let him investigate your mouth, but this isn’t particularly fun either when you aren’t awake to react in any way. It is an intriguing avenue to investigate later. With no other ideas in mind to try, and knowing you could wake up at any moment, the armor opts to suit you up, lay down, and wait. How unlucky that his greatest desires all necessitate a conscious human…
Still, even in this state, he finds you to be an acceptable plaything; one worth keeping for his entertainment.
You wake up with a terrible headache soon after, having been incapacitated for just over an hour, only to find you have been gagged with something squishy and placed inside a suit of armor… Ah, right. Your plan had backfired. Which means you’re probably inside him. This is confirmed when you attempt to struggle, only to hear the monster hum before he stiffens to hold you in place, seeming very pleased with the situation.
“There you are, human. Bet you never thought you’d actually wear me, hm? I do hope it’s comfortable, because you’re going to be in there for a very, very long time…”
As he taunts you, the gag in your mouth moves, and you feel something smooth and soft coil around your neck from below— some manner of tendril. You try to shift away from it, and it tightens, before you feel something similar slide under your shirt to wrap your midsection, the tip gently stroking your back. You realize you have made a very grave error: he is not a suit of animated armor. He is a suit of true living armor, and you are now trapped in his body. As if he knew you’d just realized, the inside of the suit comes to life as dozens of tendrils begin exploring you, spreading out from his cuirass until even the bottoms of your feet are being investigated.
Normally, this is how these monsters subdue their human prey; in addition to serving as sensory organs, they produce enzymes to digest their catches and even stave off internal corrosion. This explains the stark contrast between his outer and inner surfaces, and is probably why he refused to let you inspect the inside of his cuirass. More pressingly, the average person can withstand their digestive process for approximately three hours before the damage becomes fatal. It is a horrific way to die, and borderline impossible to escape without someone on the outside not only realizing what’s happening, but having the capability to help. Right here and now, it is just you and the monster. There is no help coming.
You don’t feel anything wet or burning yet, but he could start making a meal of you at any moment. Naturally, this is something you do not want to happen. You try to plead for him to spare you, hoping your words are intelligible in spite of the tendril currently bullying your tongue. He just hums, acknowledging that he heard you just so you know you’re being ignored on purpose. Several more tense minutes pass, spent simultaneously fearing for your life and fearing that his touch was actually starting to do something for you, before he finally speaks up, crudely copying what you’d said to him when you’d brought him back in the cart.
“Relax, I’m not going to kill you. This is only going to be as unpleasant as you decide to make it. Feel more at ease hearing that? Do you trust me not to hurt you while restrained in an unfamiliar place against your will and being treated like an object?”
In hindsight, he was probably way more freaked out than he’d let on back then. It’s unfortunately far too late for apologies, but maybe begging for your life is still on the table. The helmet opens just so he can dramatically cover your mouth with one gauntlet.
“Oh, hush. In all seriousness, I really don’t plan to kill you any time soon; I’m not due to have a meal for another month at least. Maybe it’ll be you, or maybe it’ll be some other fool. You brought me back to nearly peak condition, so as thanks I’m going to make sure you get a very intimate understanding of what exactly that entails before I do anything else.”
You think you hear arousal in his voice, which… May actually be more concerning than if he had been hungry.
He closes his helm and continues to rub and squeeze you, finding your squirming just as pleasing as he’d hoped— waiting for you to wake up before properly ensnaring your body just to terrify you has paid off wonderfully. Using one of the larger tendrils as a gag means he even gets to feel your tongue trying to push him out of your mouth while the rest of you can only thrash helplessly. He finds the setup quite enjoyable, at least until you work up the nerve to risk getting a mouthful of acid, biting down on the very soft and very sensitive body part currently being used to keep you quiet.
“Ghh, why you little…!”
You do succeed in freeing your mouth, but in return the rest of your body is gripped very tightly. If nothing else, at least being inside him means he probably can’t see you blushing. All you can do at first is cough and sputter, trying to get the weird, metallic taste off your tongue. The tendril tasted more meaty, but you think back to how he had wanted to put his fingers between your lips and hazard a guess as to what he did while you were unconscious. The metal beast does try to cover your mouth again, but yanks the fleshy appendage away when you attempt to repeat your previously successful maneuver, opting to open his helmet to use his gauntlet again instead.
“Listen. You’re only alive because you fit and I don’t really feel like finishing you off. Behave yourself and I’ll make sure this doesn’t hurt. Keep trying to bite me and I’ll change my mind about killing you. Understood, stuffing?”
The frustration in his voice is obvious, as is his dominance. Less obvious: is ‘stuffing’ an insult or nickname in this context? Pet name? You’re not sure, but something about it was really hot regardless. Between that, the squeezing and stroking of the tendrils all over you, and still very much not wanting to die, you find it very difficult not to submit to his demand, slowly nodding in lieu of replying, what with the metal hand covering the lower half of your face. So he returns to his position, and hesitantly introduces his flesh to your mouth yet again, and this time you don’t stop him, settling with the knowledge you won’t be able to struggle your way out of this.
Evidently, this isn’t what your captor wants either.
“I didn’t tell you to stop squirming; the struggle is what makes this interesting. You won’t like me when I’m bored.”
You start shifting around again, trying to find a balance between moving and not wasting your energy. Eventually, you close your eyes and try to turn your attention away from the current circumstances. Instead of thinking about being on the wrong side of a suit of living armor, you focus on the sensations. Other than your head, nothing actually hurts right now. The metal containing you is just a tad cooler than room temperature, balancing the warmth of the muscular bindings rubbing and undulating against you. They’re soft and smooth, but not slimy or sticky; most are coiled around you, some stroke you both through and below your clothing, and a few lightly prod at your belly or hips or the back of your neck. You don’t even realize you’ve begun sucking on the one in your mouth…
He does. He does, and he finds himself enjoying the sensation quite a lot, soon sliding it just a little deeper. It’s not as far in as the previous one had been, but it’s not intended to gag you, either. All the while he can feel your heart rate lowering bit by bit as your fear gradually subsides, slowly but surely giving way to pleasure as he continues to explore your form. Like any other human, you’re warm and soft, always moving in one way or another, be it the rise and fall of your chest or the blood being pumped through your veins. Your mouth is humid and moist, your saliva coats the tendril between your lips, your tongue which once avoided his flesh embraces it. Compared to him you are far more dense and hefty, and yet also far less physically powerful; your body follows his own at his whim.
Without giving you any sort of warning, he decides to change his position, turning to lay on his front and swiftly feeling the payoff of your weight settling against his areas which desire more… Attention.
Your aimless wiggling begins to change, halfhearted struggling transitioning to a more rhythmic back and forth. Instead of just shifting your weight, you begin to hump and thrust against the inside of the armor to the best of your ability, forgoing thoughts of resistance in favor of indulging the part of yourself which has secretly been wanting this for so long. You know he is enjoying it as well, lightly clutching your body in time with your motions, shifting his grip on you to slide more tendrils between your legs. The tease is almost unbearable; the appendages do not push beneath your clothing, leaving a barrier of fabric to dull his touch. You thrust harder to compensate, and he grips you firmly, both of you holding back expressions of pleasure lest the other find out just how much excitement they have caused…
Alas, it can’t last forever, and after a while you start to wind down, the exertion finally catching up with you before you get the release you had been chasing. You’re unsure of how much time has passed, but don’t really care; it’s been well-spent regardless. Warm, secure, and tired out within his dark confines, you start to doze off. Initially the living suit seems to be against this, prodding at you, not verbalizing the fact he isn’t done yet but clearly wanting you to keep going. You try, at first, but your energy is spent whether you want it to be or not. Eventually he begrudgingly accepts the fact humans have less endurance than his own kind. Part of you is surprised when, instead of punishing you for not entertaining him, he turns onto his back and reclines, pulling the tendril from your mouth while slipping others under your head to provide a softer surface than metal for you to rest it on.
“It’s almost insulting that someone so helpless was able to hold me captive for as long as you did. If I were in better condition then, I would have killed you for trying. Now that I can do so easily, I find the thought of keeping you far more compelling.”
Though his tone remains abrasive, you know he’s just not willing to say he’s begun to like you, even if it’s possibly only because of what you can do for him. The consideration with which he treats you as you border on drifting off betrays him; his touch is gentle, and his position takes yours into account, making sure you’re unlikely to wake up stiff. Few tendrils coil around you, instead draping themselves over you, evenly distributing their weight and warmth. His body is still and quiet, and you find it far easier to fall asleep in this light embrace, the restored monster soon following.