Side blog dedicated to pairing Lancelot Kingsley / Ray Blackwell from Cybird's Ikemen Revolution Occasionally NSFW, such posts will be tagged appropriately Header image @plumpblueberry Sidebar image @Cybird Cursor @ikemenfics
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Written for my Visions of Temptation Kinktober 2021 challenge.Â
DAY 1 - Guided masturbation + âTry not to make a mess.â
âNghhâŚâ
Clasping a handful of dark locks, Lancelot shoves away Rayâs face in the last second before his orgasm hits him, saving him the certain choking that he wouldâve experienced otherwise. Ray pants lightly as he stays in place while Lancelot jerks off the last drops of come on his pretty face. He moves his hand under his chin to tilt it up and have a better look at it.
âEnjoying yourself, Lancelot?â Rayâs half-lidded gaze mocks the red king for his obvious hyperfixation with ruining his looks.
Hiya Pseu! As a request, I would LOVE any headcanon from your Ray/Lancelot universe if you have one? I hope thatâs okay to ask for!!Have a lovely day and stay safe â¤ď¸â¤ď¸ ALSO happy birthday my dear! đ
Oh my god this is such a flattering thing to have been asked, my heart felt like it was being squeezed when I first saw this!!! Thank you! Itâs completely okay to ask for... I canât tell you how touched I am that you would want this! Iâm really dumb and soft right now!
Thank you for the kind wishes, too. âĽď¸âĽď¸
â ď¸đâĽď¸
These are all about this one. (And if you ever want more Raycelot, @pickle-scribbles is your girl! Sheâs written Monarchy and some King/Alice/King if thatâs your flavor. âĽď¸â ď¸)
Ray...
Thinks Lancelot is objectively the most beautiful person in Cradle. It pisses him off at first! And then it doesnât.
Takes up stretching for awhile in an effort to get taller. Seriously. When he makes his peace with his height, he puts all that energy into presence instead. But he still keeps his shoulders back and straightens himself up to the full height he does have when at meetings and official stuff.
Lancelot
Thinks Ray is a tragic figure, someone who could be so much better with more refinement or support. He recognizes the undimmable flash of the Young Kingâs brilliance and thinks itâs sad he will inevitably lose the conflict between their armies anyway, since Lance has the might of the Magic Tower behind him. A shame, really. He doesnât have much time to think about it, but when it crosses his mind he feels regret.
Just as Ray observes, Lance does, desperately, want someone to ask what he wants, his soul is crying out for someone to please remember he is a hurting person with desires beyond his purpose, and for someone to show him (and others) that they realize heâs not just a commander. Heâs been shouldering heavy burdens for such a long time. He wouldnât let anyone else take them on for him, but itâs one of his deepest sources of his sadness that no one seems personally aware. He has to hide a lot and heâs dying for someone to care enough to look closely anyway.
Ray also...
Has a half dozen wet dreams, as a grown man, all centered on Lancelot. He wakes up aroused and angryâ why wonât this snotty asshole leave his dreams alone, at least?! He doesnât need to see Lancelot crying out while his body is shoved up the bed with every slap of their hips, or smiling so softly and reaching out for Ray when they are done. He doesnât need to know what the Red King might look like if he got shyly bold and knelt between Rayâs legs on a crimson cushion on the floor. It doesnât matter how pale scarred hands would shake, or how the vulnerable Adamâs apple would bob, or what tears look like falling from eyes blue or red. It doesnât matter. He doesnât need this. It doesnât matter. He repeats this to himself as he jerks off in the shower and his brain and body tell him it matters a lot.
...and most of that is before heâs sheltered by the Red Army after his injury. After he and Lancelot have sex and he returns to Black Army headquarters, Ray grasps at these dreams and touches himself with purpose as he remembers them. Thereâs some heartache there, a lot of sadness for the ways he now knows Lancelot is isolated. He doesnât take anyone else to bed in a silent form of kingly solidarity. Thinks this is stupid but also the right thing to do. He nearly tells Fenrir so many times.
And Lancelot has sporadically dreamed of emerald glass figurines in an open display case and the sound of unrestrained laughter since the first time he met Ray. Heâs been waking up horny and upset for months now.
He goes back to the room where Ray stayed and takes the pillowcase. He keeps it folded in a black silk pouch in his nightstand, and sometimes tucks it between his own pillowcase and the pillow after difficult days. When the scent is truly gone... he keeps it.
He wants kisses, he privately really really wants kisses somewhere sunny and public and safe, and he will remember Ray kissing his shoulder until the day he dies.
I definitely HC an eventually happy ending for this pair, but there would be a lot of angsty growing for the both of them first. This universe has melancholy. Theyâd get thrown together again (probably Ray back at Red HQ, I canât see Jonah letting them get any alone time if Lance was at the Black Army đ¤Ł), have sex again, and take on the Tower together. Sirius knows. Fenrir knows. Kyle knows. Blanc knows.
Thank you so much again for this ask! Made my day!
Summary: Â Despite wanting to enjoy himself in the heat of the moment, Lancelot feels distracted. Itâs usually the other way around, with work being ditched into the corner because of their intimate encounters, but as of often, there is a certain concern that comes with neglecting work. A concern that wraps tight around the Red Kingâs mind and robs him of satisfaction in bed.
A little disclaimer: the idea for the story isnât mine, itâs Naxyâs - although she claims she always wants them happy, look what did she make me do ⥠I am but a quill, an instrument for someoneâs mind :3
The inspiration to write this came from this song right here.
Happy reading c:
âIf I let go, would you hold on? Would we fly?
Is it safer if we just say that we tried?âÂ
He could have sworn he could hear the stars glimmer on the night sky.
It was a quiet shimmer of the light settled millions and millions of kilometres away. The sound gave a rhythm to the white gleam at the edge of his fingers. The eyes turned crimson were looking beyond whatâs material, gazing deeper into some kind of metaphysical world, luring him in with the sweet promise of oblivion.
Do I know better than this?
You're a word that I can't forget
A word. Three letter that took shape in his mind, rushed along the veins and struck the heart, just to end up at the very end of the reality. At the ends of the fingertips. The softness tingled the sensitive skin as though it was running through nothing but silk, black and thick, yet so⌠delicate.
Fragile.
Brittle.
A word, never forgotten. âRay.â
He was there. And he wasnât. His smile defeated the stillness of the night. And at the same time it didnât. His hand reached to rest on Lancelotâs cheek. And⌠it didnât. The ephemeral touches, the ethereal presence â none of this was real. None. YetâŚ
He blinked, the illusion fading into a mist that dissipated into the darkness. The eyes, now ocean blue again, were staring at the vacant spot next to him and right before he drifted off to sleep he could have sworn there was a hollow in the mattress. As if someone had lain there just mere moments ago.
-
Some other nights he would pretend to embrace him, the body emitting the most realistic warmth. He was ready to believe it all to be true. No words would come, voice chords knowing better than to form sounds in fear it would all drift away into the night again. The happiness, no matter how fleeting, felt so divine.
So right.
And so wrong.
He wasnât made for happiness so why was he allowed to sin like that?
You're a word that I can't forget
Always.
âRay,â he would whisper at last, driven by the sole desire to hear his voice speaking his name as well. Always to a naught.
Will you fold or will you remain?
-
Mornings became a routine. He would wake up to that vibrant smile, shining brighter than the sun. The King of Spadesâ lips remained sealed still. Yet, there he was. Emerald gems more precious than any stones, no diamond could be worth this much. They were staring straight into his, dyed red, even though he had no memory of using magic.
It would last as long as he wouldnât dare to move. Time after time, he had been trying to tangle the fingers in raven-black locks, ending the illusion abruptly, the bed cold and hostile.
No one could ever know the tears he would shed then. Was he even aware of them?
If I let goâŚ
âŚwould you hold on?
He never did.
-
He remembered everything. Every gesture. Every glance, stolen moment, each smile and each sharp sigh⌠always sitting across from him in the Garden, always being in the centre of his attention. No one could have known. Not even the man himself.
He was the bearer of own secret. He made himself suffer by being the repository of own desires.
The illusion was a perfect mirror. But it wasnât a solid mirror like the one each house could have. No. All of that reflected on the waterâs surface, perfectly visible if not disturbed. All it took was a mere blow of the wind, a ghost of a touch for it to wash away with the tide.
No reflection could speak. No illusion was able to do that. A perfect mirror didnât have a voice.
âI do.â
Then was it real?
The wobbly bubble of happiness exploding right in his heart. The promise of love, its tangibility enchanted in the ring put on the finger, sweet voice resonating in every fibre of his being. He was ready to make an oath as well.
The vow. One and only. True. Familiar.
Never belonging to him.
He was there that day, seeing Ray the happiest that he had ever been, swearing the love that would last forever. She was beautiful, too. He was fond of her because she made him so eternally happy.
He hated her because it would never be him.
Even if the illusion was speaking while laying next to him, it would never, ever be him. The brilliant smile, the warmth of the lips, the light in the emerald world behind his eyesâŚ
He buried his face against his chest. Or so he thought, for as soon as their skins touched, only the pure white sheets were left. The sun spilled through the curtains, announcing the brand new day. He pulled up the heavy body of his, tears prompted to fall down from the cheeks leaving wet stains on the fabric. A few droplets slid down to Lancelotâs lips, the tip of his tongue licking them off. He had duties to perform. And then, as the evening would drape the sky in dark hues, he would be back to his sweet illusion of a life never to be.
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My brain needed a break so I decided to do something I havenât done in what feels like forever - editing. Itâs all that I can do for now, but here you go (*â§ĎâŚ*)
SO. Lancelot calling Ray âYoung Kingâ in their Crash in Cradle story: MY JAM! I did not realize until I saw it happening, but verrrrrrry much my jam. I wouldnât say I ship them all the time, but I needed to poke at this idea a bit.
âYoung King,â says the not-much-older King, and Ray wants to punch every syllable that drips in the air around them, until the sounds are spatter on his knuckles and the taller manâs face. Smug and severe Kingsleyâ ridiculous nameâ even smiles as he says it, and Ray sees red, sees red laid over everything.
He can feel his upper lip curl so strongly the muscles tremble, and he hates it. He hates Lancelot Kingsley even more.
3. An AU of sorts thatâs been brought to the discord server and we were tossing ideas of either one of them being a demigod and other a mortal
4. A tender kiss
There were all prompts given to me by your lovely Red Admin, more of these will come in the near future as I have other 12 prompts to fill, some might be even turned into short comics but shh ;^)
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Itâs been some time since this blog has gotten an update but we have some interesting news for you.
The chat for our two Kings is now live and you can access it by clicking on this link , just introduce yourselves and youâre ready to go.Â
Of course, the Kings, while they have a separate section about them, wonât be the only thing to talk about, the serverâs main role is to bring people who enjoy the same game and love the characters of the same game together. We hope you join and have fun with everyone!Â
If you have any questions or problems, feel free to contact the admins of the server.
At some point he started to wonder if it was his own, deeply-rooted madness taking its toll and making those strange, unfamiliar feelings to swirl around the heart. It couldnât have been real. He mustâve been imagining things, secrets kept finally catching up to him to play with his mind and soul. Unreal. Unthinkable.
And yet there he was, leaning on the elbow, still too unsure to lay down, blue diamonds shining even brighter whenever they gazed upon raven-haired man sleeping soundly atop his own bed, the mattress usually so cold and unwelcoming. Maybe, maybe it wouldnât hurt to give into the delusions this one time. It would be gone by the morning, but while the night was still upon them he could let go of the worries by the veil of the darkness.
Just this once, he thought to himself, putting head on Rayâs chest. He wanted to pull away immediately before he realised that the sound he was hearing was the manâs steady heartbeat. So unbelievably calming, more pleasant to him than a live concerto. For a moment he didnât even dare to breathe, much less move. However, as soon as he realised just what he was doing, he pulled away and laid down next to him, Rayâs hand still gripping his wrist.
           ***
No one had pulled down the curtains, so the annoying sunrays decided to illuminate Rayâs face in its full grace. He mumbled something incoherent under the breath, feeling his head pounding even before he got to open the eyes. He remembered drink past his limit last night and he was about to pay a price for that. This is going to be a lovely morning.
His eyes fluttered open, just for him to close them back again at the bright light hurting every particle of his body. He had a day off, yet he also had to get up eventually before someone would come looking for him and see the state he was in. He would rather avoid that.
Another attempt at letting the sight adjust to the surroundings went a bit better, yet still caused the head to pound even harder than before. He whined quietly trying to sit up, however something was blocking him â or more like making it harder. He looked down to see a hand wrapped around him. âWhat theââ
He followed the arm up to the warmth of a body next to him. The world around seemed to have stopped when Ray finally could take a glance at the face vis-Ă -vis his own. Was he dreaming? Or was it reallyâŚ
Still in a post-alcoholic daze, he pinched his cheek, hard, and felt the pain very clearly. It wasnât a dream. It was real. How did he end up in the Red Army Headquarters? In King of Heartsâ bedroom? With the King himself in bed? A mistake, that was nothing but a mistake. He should get up. Dress up. Go home. Did any of the Red Army officers know he was here? If not, how was he going to get out of there unnoticed? He wasnât familiar with the layout of the barracks, he was sure to get lost and caught by some soldier. First things first, he had to untangle himself from Lancelotâs arms.
Yet just as he moved, he felt them tighten around his torso and Lancelot mumbled without opening his eyes: âCan you grant me just a few more minutes Black King?â
Ray opened the mouth as if to say something but closed it immediately. Stunned and surprised, he was expecting the King of Hearts to be nearly as drunk as he had been the previous night, otherwise he couldnât imagine the ever stoic and cold Lancelot would find himself in such a position with an opposing King. It was quite opposite, for Lancelot sounded completely sane and reasonable â whatâs more, he sounded wide awake.
â... I.. I guess?â
âThank you.â
That really wasnât what he was expecting. Being shooed away. Taken by the soldiers. Accused of breaking into Kingsâ private chambers. But certainly not this. And since he already went that far, he took a shot and shifted, putting cheek atop of Lancelotâs chest, absorbing his warmth through thin fabric of the red shirt.
It was⌠pleasant. Ray would never admit just how many times such a scenario popped up in his mind during their meeting in the garden. How many times had he imagined the feeling of the other Kingsâ touch on him, how would it feel to hug him, to feel him close⌠And now, the dream turned reality, was so good, almost unbearable.
The silence wasnât awkward, though such an effect was expected. It was comfortable. And comforting. As if both of them needed it, craved it. Ray took his time relishing in it before he made a decision to break it. His voice was mild and soft like the quietness itself.
âDo you always feel so lonely?â he just knew. It was apparent in every movement, in every breath. That was what had drawn Lancelot to put up with him that one night â loneliness.
âDonât read into this King of Spades,â he responded with a note of gruff in the tone after a few long seconds.
âItâs true, isnât it?â
âAnd if it is? What does it matter to you?â
So he said, yet still keeping arms tight around Rayâs body. Thatâs when Ray realised. He wanted it, too.
ââŚitâs sad, thatâs all,â he whispered, more to himself rather than to Lancelot, and added after a moment: âYou won't be lonely anymore,â the words barely audible, he wasnât even sure if Lancelot could make something out them. Maybe it was for the best.
Suddenly the warmth was gone, and whether was it the fault if Rayâs words or not, Lancelot sat up, a shadow of carmine blush dusting his otherwise pale face. He spared Ray no look, for the first time feeling too flustered around him to even take a glance into his eye. Lancelot cleared his throat, a bit awkwardly, before speaking up.
âI believe itâs time for you to go back to your own barracks.â
There was no ill will behind those words. No, they popped the sensual atmosphere that had built up since they woke up, making a smile spread across Rayâs face. Such a new thing, to see that hostile man pushed to the limits by a few simple sentences. âWell, do you really want me to go?â
Did he? Lancelot froze at the question, fearing that voice would fail him should he speak once more. Would silence be enough answer for him? He should just stand up and go. Never look back. That was supposed to be only for the night. That one night that made Red Kingâs heart yearn.
It couldnât be like this. It wasnât meant to be. Neither of them should be in such a situation right now. It was just for one night, he repeated inside his mind, trying to convince himself, to no avail. Yes, he wanted it. Yes, he needed it. Yes, he agreed to that. Just to know. For a few hours, to know how it feels to have a soft comfort in the sharp claws of the night. How would it be to have someone be his lifeguard while he drowned in the sea of own nightmares. And that was it. Every other night now he would be left to his demons, without a comforting hand to reach out.
There was one more option. However cruel, it could prove useful. What if he erased Rayâs memory of that night? The King of Spades would have his mind left thinking he went straight home after the bonding party, and the hole in the memory was caused by the amount of drunk alcohol. Then Lancelot would be the only one hurtingâŚ
Yet there was a selfish part of him. That part didnât want Ray to forget. He wanted him to know, remember, even if it wasnât meant to be repeated any other night. It would be their secret, their little moment stolen in a cruel time and vicious world. But would it leave Ray hurting as well?
The time to decide had run out when something pressed against Lancelotâs back. He stiffened, taken by surprise. He wasnât expecting Ray to make any move after he had told him to go. Black Kingâs arms were wrapped around Lancelotâs waist, grip strong and steel-like, head was leaning against other manâs back.
âI thought Iâve made myself clear, young King.â
âYou have, I just chose to ignore you order. Iâm not under any obligation to follow it.â
Suddenly Rayâs face was right in front of him. He circled around quickly enough not to let Lancelot escape somewhere else, keeping him seated on the bed. Rayâs smile was radiant, so achingly sweet in Lancelotâs eyes. He couldnât let it show on his face, just how⌠mesmerised he was.
âDonât you get tired of playing pretend, Lancelot?â
A little presage to something much bigger, much more complexed.
This started as a loose thoughts exchange between Naxy and myself back in September, which then turned into a RP. At first it was only a few short sentences as a reply, later on blowing in responses with the count of mere 2000 words per turn. still ongoing
That very same RP now is turning into a full, multi-chapter story to be shared. Itâs our team effort and I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as we enjoy creating it âĽ. Special thanks to @toloveawarlordâ for encouraging us to actually carve it into a story!
đŞđ°đąđ¸đ đŻđ¸ - a contract played with the player's hand of cards spread out face up on the table so it is visible to the other players
The night had grown dark as the last of the officers of both armies left the pub, leaving only the two Kings, who stubbornly claimed that they would hold up much longer still. And it wasnât a lie, for theyâd been still perfectly sober when their companions had decided that theyâd had enough inducing themselves with alcohol.
Eventually, as even the best of the nights must come to an end, both Ray and Lancelot chose to leave for their respective territories. Only, one of them felt more cheerful than the other, having let himself drink way more than oneâs sound reason would suggest. Lancelot caught Ray by the elbow as the latter tripped over the chair heâd been previously sitting on.
âI donât need help,â the Black King swatted the Red Kingâs hand away, making his way to the exit with wobbly steps. Lancelot followed him like a shadow, a close meter behind, ready to intervene should he be a hazard to himself.
The night hit them with a freezing blow of air, to which both of them shivered. It was a challenge for Ray to walk straight only with his fuzzy mind, now, adding the shivers to the overall state, he could barely keep upright.
Lancelot sighed quietly and came over to him. He heard no word of protest after pulling Ray close to own body and wrapping his cape around them both. He was only given a quizzical glare, to which he looked up, feeling the cheeks catching a ting of red. âI donât want you to catch a cold, King of Spades. That would be bothersome. Just to keep us both warm.â
âMhmm,â Ray hummed under the breath, walking a few uneasy steps before, without any warning whatsoever, he reached out to grab a hold of Lancelotâs hand. The Red King froze in place, Ray pulling him along as he kept moving. âWhy the frown, King of Heartsss?â he dragged the last âsâ, making it sound like a snakeâs hiss. âIâm just keeping us warm, too.â
âWell, I donât think I can rest easy unless I know you got home safely. Iâll walk you to the Black Territory and we will hire a carriage for you.â
âMhmmm,â Ray hummed again, adjusting own pace to Lancelotâs, soon letting go of his hand and wrapping both hands around his arm. âHeeey, Lancelot?â
âYes, King of Spades?â
âYou.. you know my cat riiight?.. I think he.. is mad at me....â
The question came completely out of nowhere, and after a longer moment of stunned silence, Lancelot had to focus on not letting a chuckle escape the lips. He had to admit, seeing Ray like that, babbling nonsense was quite⌠adorable.
âWhy so?â he managed to ask in a calm manner after making sure he wouldnât burst out laughing or smile, which would give him away immediately.
âBecaaaausee I didnât.. pet him.. when I lefttttt....I...â
Ray reached out to sprawl a palm on the wall of the nearest building, cutting their walk short. They waited out Rayâs hiccupâs attack in the cold night. âIâŚ.âm sorry, Belllllllle,â the short sentence sounded like a pitiful whimper, in a blink of an eye turning into a laughing fit.
I canât deliver the Black Armyâs King to its officers in such a state, he thought, watching as the commander of the opposing army doubled over on the ground with laughter. âYouâre coming to the Red Army barracks with me.â
âAm I?â Ray frowned up at Lancelot. âI am! Alright, letâssssss go!â
At this time of the night smuggling an opposing King to the Red Army barracks wouldnât be too easy of a job. Neither would it be easy in the daylight â the guards were always sharp. No human is perfect and they couldnât keep everything out, but it was safe to say that the Red Army Headquarters were one of the best-secured faculties in whole of Cradle. Thatâs why Lancelot decided to come as close as possible and then teleport them both right into own bedroom. Ray didnât even notice the change in the environment, which prompted Lancelot, again that night, to think just how much had the Black King drunk during the little conjoined party.
He helped Ray over to the bed, the man half-asleep already as he fell flat atop the sheets. Lancelot sighed before proceeding to help him out of the coat and jacket, for Ray to be left only in pants and shirt. Then he shed his, feeling the alcohol still warming up the body.
The Red King was about to move to the couch when something white came swooshing past him and jumped on the bed, the bright paw nudging Rayâs face.
âShine, get off,â as he reached for the cub, he skilfully dodged his masterâs hand, this time coming in to lick the tip of Rayâs nose. The Black King chuckled, eyelids fluttering open.
âHello, kitty,â he mumbled, hands tangling in the soft fur. Lancelotâs first thought was to get Shine somewhere away from there, however arms stopped midway, gaze drawn by the sight of Rayâs flushed face adorned with the softest of smiles when he played with the cube.
There it was. That something so disturbing, usual loneliness tangling with the feeling unknown, unnamed, so incredibly pleasant to the point of causing pain in the chest. He didnât want it to end, at the same time begging for it to go away.
He felt so frozen in time, until Shine eventually got bored and trotted away to his usual place of sleep. Lancelot couldnât shake own body awake, falling a victim to Rayâs grab on the wrist because of that. âKing of Spades, let go,â he reprimanded him quietly, to no avail. Ray was deep asleep, fingers curled even though it should have loosened in that state of mind. Lancelot gazed on the couch where he had intended to sleep in the first place. Yet again he sighed when his attempts at freeing himself ended up in a fiasco.
He had no choice but to lay down next to the King of Spades.
While I know the tradition for Valentines in Cradle is to exchange chocolates instead of flowers, let the boys be romantic and try to surprise one another besides i donât trust them to make edible chocolate
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Me: Raycelot is a serious ship that has two guys who find it hard to deal with feelings and emotions in general and have a very rocky road of understanding and acceptance before they reach mutual happiness together.
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