#tekken reader

[comelylust]

Next ones...

King or armor king

Or both to complete the trifecta?

I hope you like it! ( 〃▽〃) I wanted to practice my writing with your request, I hope you don't mind... (´,,•ω•,,)♡ 

King

The morning sun rarely catches him off guard. King is a profoundly early riser, always waking long before you do, driven not by a desire to boast, but by the quiet, unyielding discipline that governs his entire life. If you are the type to cling to the warmth of the blankets, you never have to worry. He moves through the house like a shadow, preparing breakfast with absolute dedication and in total silence, fiercely protective of your rest.

For him, visits to the orphanage are sacred. But now that you walk by his side, those afternoons carry a new, much heavier emotional weight. Watching the children instantly adopt you, seeing them cling to you with instinctive affection, brings a profound, radiant happiness to King’s heart.

In public, the jaguar mask never leaves his face. It isn't a matter of trust; it was his identity, his legacy, and the weight of the mantle he carries. Yet, when the world fades away and you are finally alone, the mask comes off. He leaves it carelessly close to you while he reads on the couch late into the night, or while he moves around the kitchen. You understand perfectly the unspoken gravity of that gesture the deep, raw intimacy it represents.

He is a man of physical presence and quiet affection. He casually drapes a heavy arm around your shoulders, pulls you close, laces his fingers through yours while watching something together, or affectionately messes up your hair if you cross his path. He never whispers an "I love you" with words; he prefers to let his actions speak for him, day after day.

Armor King

Armor King is a grumpy man, a force of nature so perpetually surly that you quickly have to learn to decipher the subtle nuances of his growls. You have to distinguish the rumble of genuine annoyance from his neutral, day-to-day low growl. Fortunately, whenever he is with you, it is almost always the latter. He prefers to answer your questions with subtle, guttural sounds, or with a simple, sharp nod or shake of his head instead of speaking.

Yet, beneath that gruff exterior lies an incredible intuition. You never have to explain things twice; the moment a request leaves your lips, he already anticipates and resolves it.

His discipline and routine are absolute and inflexible. He demands his coffee brewed in one highly specific way, his training at the exact same hour every day, and he always sleeps in a certain, unyielding position. Because of this, his greatest demonstration of affection is a quiet sacrifice: the moments he willingly alters his rigid order, allowing you to scatter your things and invade his personal space.

If someone ever bothers you or makes you feel uncomfortable, he doesn't make a dramatic entrance or cause a public scene. His protective instinct is silent, oppressive, and lethal. He simply steps in, placing his formidable frame firmly between you and the source of your discomfort. From behind his dark mask, he levels a stare so cold and heavy that the entire situation dissolves into thin air within seconds, suffocated by his sheer presence.

NSFW.

King

His rhythm in bed is a calculated, shifting tide: alternating between slow, incredibly deep thrusts meant to fill you completely, and sudden, rapid bursts of short strokes that closely mimic the frantic energy of a combat.

His absolute favorite position was the mating press. He hoists your legs over his broad shoulders and leans heavily forward, burying himself to the absolute root while anchoring you down with almost his entire body weight. In the heat of the moment, low, gravelly commands in Spanish escape his throat, growling words like «Aguanta» (Hold on) or «Todavía no termino» (I’m not done yet) against your skin.

King rarely, if ever, comes first. His control is legendary, practically superhuman; he can hold back his own climax for hours, deliberately dragging you over the edge into multiple, shattering orgasms before allowing himself to release.

When he finally climaxes, his release is a violent, earth shattering event. His entire body seizes up, his powerful claws dig deep into the bedsheets or bury themselves into the skin of your back, while a raw, primal roar vibrates directly against your chest. His release is thick and incredibly abundant, and a dark sense of satisfaction fills him as he watches it drip lazily over your chest or belly.

Armor King

Armor King does not make love; he possesses, dominates, and utterly destroys. His demeanor is that of an apex predator playing cruelly with his prey before finally devouring it.

He takes an almost sadistic pleasure in prolonging your agony, dragging you right to the absolute precipice of an orgasm over and over again, only to abruptly stop at the very last second. He listens to your frustrated whimper, letting out a low, dark chuckle at your desperation.

His favorite position is the prone bone. He forces you flat onto your stomach, mounting your back to immobilize you completely under his crushing weight, his teeth sinking firmly into the nape of your neck to hold you still.

The striking difference between King and Armor King lies in their mercy. Armor King has no interest in pacing himself or measuring his partner's endurance. Instead, he alternates rounds of brutal, unrelenting sex with brief, quiet pauses where he does nothing but slowly stroke your trembling, overwhelmed body.

When it comes to cumming, he usually goes first. He loves to ejaculate directly onto your face, all while maintaining a cold, unblinking, and locked visual contact through the slits of his mask. His seed is thick, hot, and bitter to the taste.