The Bold Ruler

He who rules a broken realm. {Indie Thor RP Blog} Upon the Throne {X} In Slumber { } Twin Name: Ruler

[theboldruler]

// Yep! I'm back here too! And will maybe possibly be taking new threads, so please message me if you'd like to start something up. 

I'm going to be putting the majority of my focus on Doc's blog, but maybe a few things here wouldn't be bad either.

Love y'all~!

-Doc/Rulermun

[theboldruler]

Tempo Rubato || Thor & Loki

[mageprinceloki-deactivated20141]

Thought was as difficult as drawing breath, and Loki’s awareness shrank to a small sphere of focus. To the mounting tension between them, the roughened hand that tightened around his throat, and those pupils, so wide with adrenaline that they allowed only a thin ring of blue to encircle their glittering black.

                         {Like watching the moon eclipse the sun.} Realizing that the god-king had no intention of loosening his hold, the trickster weakly resumed his struggles, as if he knew exactly how useless it was. One hand slid further up to grip silver-clad muscle, fingers skidding across the gleaming metal. {Tighter, until he felt his skin might burst from the pressure. Tighter, until his heart stuttered and he tasted death, its grip even more unyielding than Thor’s.} Again, that pained, childlike expression was desperately offered to pitiless eyes. What had happened? Where had his golden, cherished elder gone and what had he to offer the grim, implacable tyrant who still wore his face? Slender fingers squeezed and pried, head thrashing wildly until dark hair fluttered like the wings of ravens. He’d heard the gossip, the rumors, the hushed whispers from other realms, but disbelieved them all—until this very moment. Thor’s eyes hungered only for ruin and slaughter, his expression that of an angry god who could never be appeased, and under the relentless weight of his gaze, Loki’s frail form actually trembled, pride crumbling away as he took the first fatal steps toward his brother’s desires.  {It mattered little what they were—he tread on unknown ground, driven only by the need to serve.} The room tilted around him, focus failing as a shrill, threatening hum spiraled him down and down into nothing. So this was how it felt, to be stripped of the pretense, the i l l u s i o n of power. Like having your flesh peeled away, leaving every nerve bare.                                         {Vulnerable. Helpless. Lost.} His final seconds of conscious thought—a smattering of arrhythmic thumps as slackened fingers brushed cold metal and longed for the skin beneath. The only thing keeping the darkness at bay was a violent surge of heat; it bloomed and spread until his skin burned with it. Heat… and shame at the wicked, demanding pressure of his own hardness. He wanted to kiss each strong, spiteful finger that squeezed the air from his lungs, to kneel and surrender himself, offering fealty, obedience, worship desire. And every flicker of the rapturous longing that grew and swelled within him etched itself into his features, as clear as the written word.

[theboldruler]

He'd planned to let Loki go, to watch him spit and sputter as he collapsed, to marvel at his lithe form's graceless fall. Thor thought there would be a delicious satisfaction in that: his brother, the intellectual, unable to summon a single word of defense as he was dragged off into the depths of the palace. He'd thought that if Loki remained awake, that some pathetic semblance of observation would serve him well - because Thor knew that consciousness was so exceptionally important when it came to matters of torture counsel. 

             { For what use would he find in that silver tongue                           If he had to pry it from the trickster's jaws himself?                                            That thought carried its own appeal. }

"Pathetic," Thor growled. And yet, in reality, the other's outward display of fascination remained anything but. Fascination? No. No, Thor knew that look well. If he spoke of subjugation, with the cruel lash of teeth and tongue foreshadowing fantasies bathed in blood red - it was the expression earned by a willing victim. Loki wanted this, and that further fueled his rage, the realization sudden and sinful. If he granted pleasure unto the other, what good would that do? What could he gain from that?

The king ground his teeth together, eyes narrowing until not but splinters of sapphire remained. And he sincerely wished he was splintering his brother's bones, too, the distant crackling beneath his grasp met with a heady groan. "No, not pathetic," Thor corrected.

"Sick."

And as the final fragments of light winked from his brother's eyes, Thor did not once relinquish his grip. His hand would remain, agonizingly tight about his brother's throat, until Loki found himself in another type of iron hold altogether...

~...~

Thor was impatient. Loki had yet to awaken.

He’d waited far too long for the other’s return to spend time idly scrutinizing the body he already knew so well { too well? }. The god-king had demanded that Loki be chained in his own quarters, insisted it was such that the other would become completely subservient all the more quickly. But Thor kept the truth bound in the furthest recesses of his brain: that he shared that same spiteful lust that his brother had just displayed. 

Thor didn’t want to kill Loki.

Thor wanted to watch Loki scream his surrender, wanted to leave cross-stitched slashes of crimson across his chest, wanted to hear him beg to be bled out and fucked open and left utterly deconstructed.

And then he wanted to piece him back together. He wanted to take each jagged, shattered thought and force it into a place it didn’t belong. And when those glassy green eyes finally opened and met with his own, Thor wanted to see what he’d created, wanted to hear Loki say it: ‘I. Am. Yours.’

                                                   { His. All his... }

The faint jostling of chains captured his attention, Thor torn unexpectedly from his musings. Loki was awake, so it seemed – at long last. The king only hoped that his brother appreciated the bands of iron wrought about each wrist, and the larger circle of gold that gilded his neck.

"Finally," Thor purred, hands clasped behind his back. "Sleep well, brother?"

[theboldruler]

You post poetry, and I counter with dark Thorki smut

((I regret nothing. Also, this is the thing I was referring to from Mage’s fantasy files. Most are single-sentence ideas, and your muse got an actual drabble. XD …Sending this on mobile, so I can only hope the formatting doesn’t get fuxored.))

———-

Though he whined in pain, head lowered and arms shaking as he balanced precariously on hands and knees, he could feel himself clasp tightly around the thunder god’s length, his strained, bleeding entrance only adding to the other’s pleasure as his body tried to protect itself… But was that really what it was doing? No. He knew better; felt the pulsing tension echo deeper within and knew it as the eager clenching of a responsive lover, not a desperate reaction to being forcibly taken.

There was certainly force in use—he gasped as his hips were pulled back again in another sharp thrust—but he’d willingly offered this and he knew it. He craved the violence of it, the wicked, fearful knowledge that he could be snapped apart like an ill-used toy at the king’s whim. Again, that giddy awareness of his own absent power as the Aesir gritted out harsh, vile words against his ear.

Loki growled, and felt the heat building in his core, basked in the wicked, shameful pressure of the act itself and how perversely he’d wanted it. He drove back onto his brother’s cock, half-ignoring the pain and half-welcoming it as the rounded tip caught and crushed against the tender swelling hidden inside, sending a jolt of sweetness through him on every thrust.

Hair tumbled into his eyes as he shuddered, toes splayed against the stones and hands clawing at it uselessly, wishing it were skin. Thor’s breath was hot and damp against the back of his neck as he taunted, threatened, bit. His blunt, calloused fingers stroked in perfect rhythm with the vicious snap of his hips, the hold too tight to be entirely comfortable, the ravaging speed too much to resist.

He had been ordered not to come. Not until the king did.

But that brutal touch and a whispered phrase rendered obedience impossible. “Filthy little whore,” his brother growled, and Loki gasped a single “No!” of shock as the heat burst from him, head snapping up and body arching, stretching as he howled and moaned and shuddered in climax. That word, that single epithet knifed through him in the best way possible. He was as shameless and wanton in his pleasure as if he sought to prove it true, hips rolling against Thor’s with sleek, graceful abandon as his inner muscles fluttered tightly, the pleasure canceling out any awareness or fear he’d felt and leaving only sensation and a raw /need/ to unravel his partner just as thoroughly as they’d unravel him.

[rennyskywalker]

Thor and Loki fanart based on the comic “Blood Brothers” by Esad Ribic and Robert Rodi… concept is the same, just used their…movie versions xD hope you like it! :)

Please click on the pic or on the link for full view: http://renny08.deviantart.com/art/Thor-and-Loki-Blood-Brothers-306817249

[theboldruler]

Tempo Rubato || Thor & Loki

[mageprinceloki-deactivated20141]

Thor’s reaction to the sudden fit of violence made the trickster pause in concern and fascination. Sapphire eyes brightened as his hand stretched and flexed, thumb stroking idly across the knuckles. It wasn’t as if they pained him, but more in an attitude of… disappointment. Strange, the impulsive drive to offer whatever it was that the Aesir seemed to feel was missing. It was more than the product of habit, he knew.

{Though always, he had fixed a keen eye on the thunderer’s wishes, longing to be indispensable to him.                                   To be as necessary as his own breath.} It felt as if there were some shared instinct there; a buried, common need, and he wanted this thing—unknown, unstated—as badly as his brother did. Maybe it was his own destruction he saw, as blue eyes glowed like the flashes that danced between clouds. Once, he could have been sure, would have known at a glance, but now it remained obscure. And things unknown had always called to him with irresistible and obsessive force. All questions were answered by the rage on Thor’s face as he turned. No, he did not have the slender princeling’s fluid grace, but his swift violence inspired a different kind of awe. He was as beautiful and terrible as the lightning he wielded, and Loki had no time to dodge.           {Perhaps he’d only have remained waiting even if he had.} Long fingers clawed frantically at the god’s hand, struggling to loosen that unbreakable grip, and underneath the all-encompassing fury he saw it, at last: They craved the same thing, and a stab of joy mixed with his dread at the sudden understanding. Eyes wrenching shut, he struggled harder, fearing some vital thing might be broken by that tightening grip. Shared training; so many small bones and vessels in the throat, things that could be easily crushed with no more than a twitch. When he opened them again, they locked pleadingly on his brother’s, mouth working to form words that he could not voice. He was shaken like a child’s toy, and could do nothing but bear it. Muscles worked desperately beneath the king’s hand, pulse beating wildly against curled fingers. He was re-learning Thor’s body language, and every word of this strange new tongue screamed in warning, now. Finally allowed some capacity for sound, he could only whimper as energy seared spitefully through his nerves, teeth bared and narrow face twisted in pain, but slowly ceasing to struggle.. His hands held the Aesir’s in place, forehead still lined in childish hurt. “Yes, Thor,” he gasped. “You, and only you.” Green eyes settled, wide with sincerity and genuine fear, on too-deep blue ones, and he shuddered as something inside him twisted.

{Sinking itself gratefully into his brother’s shadow, binding itself to his service. Mirroring his excitement, and hating himself for it.}

[theboldruler]

The newfound King of Asgard had seen peasants kneel before him, had tasted the flesh of men and women alike - all before he'd obliterated them. Closeness, true intimacy - it had been forgotten. Carnal desire was simple. As simple as the desire for violence: earth-shattering, all-encompassing. 

And yet as he wrung his hands about his own brother's throat, insatiable lust and blood-lust alike boiling to the surface, simple was the last word that came to mind. Loki's utterance added pressure, another great shift in their dynamic, and Thor had never been so enraptured. He wanted to be closer, needed it, craved it, every inch of his being lost in some wordless cry to land his brother midst some miserable debauchery, and inevitably, destruction. 

Thor had dismantled every assurance he'd ever lived by, stood aside as complexity intruded upon his life, tearing piece by piece of key character away - each and every carefully conceived detail. And at last, after such prolonged suffering, he'd found himself unable to remain at rest. He'd stood instead, fighting with everything he had to avoid facing the thing he dreaded most: but it came, nonetheless:

                                       The creature he truly was,                                 the creature that they all were,                                   buried in the nameless black                                                                 of a name.                                                                        A title.

He had changed. 

It hadn't happened immediately. The fall of Jotunheim had brought its promised peace, ushered in an era of wealth and tranquility. But to Thor, these trophies of war were nothing but reminders of what had once been great: the tumultuous times of battle. He longed for diplomacy to falter, for high councils to be disbanded such that he could pound the drums of war, and bury heathen cities in downpour and drought. He craved to hear thunder reign supreme, to paint white streaks of lightning into the very ethereal existence of the bifrost. 

     { And to watch it splinter and shatter -                          A divine instrument of the Gods                                            To serve not but divine punishment. }

But Loki was not deserving of this same fate. No. The trickster who'd hidden from Thor, concealed himself within the apathetic horrors of Midgard, fled in order to save his own flesh and bone... he would face his own personal breed of fear. A silken, inky blackness that slid effortlessly as a shadow: one that would consume him. Each and every thought would linger on that tantalizing dark: king, ruler, master, owner - and god. 

That Cheshire grin grew larger still, nearly splitting the thunderer's maw in two. "Very good, brother." It was breathless praise, accompanied only by the careful observation of elevated veins, pulse-point protruding and pounding with life. 

Thor hated that.

And so he squeezed, wanting to watch the steady slow, hear the faint murmurs of his brother's heart. He wanted to watch him squirm, until he was within seconds of heralding blackness, beckoning in unconsciousness: respite. 

And Thor would wait until he saw the wavering white of Loki's eyes, rich black glossed with terror as he gazed heavenward, choking for precious breath.

             And then he'd release him                                       Never to be free.                                                      Never to be sated or relieved. 

[roarmoreau]

[heatvents]

[lulubonanza]

Thor by ~AndreaMeloni

[theboldruler]

// Checking things over on Loki once more before I head off for the night. 

[thorvalkyrie-deactivated2018010]

[theboldruler]

Are you also dr-laufeyson?

// Why yes, dear anon! I am! I'm actually about to scuttle over there to do some drafts right now. ^.^

[theboldruler]

the blood will always                               stain                                        my hands

and no matter how much i                  clean                         them the      blood              still                    remains                               under                                       my s   k   i   n

[theboldruler]

i-n-s-i-d-i-o-s-u-s liked your post:Tempo Rubato || Thor & Loki

// -watches the Hellsing fandom stalk of all her violent threads- xD

[theboldruler]

Tempo Rubato || Thor & Loki

[mageprinceloki-deactivated20141]

He could no longer read his brother’s body language. Not as it was now, and the expected cues were missing. The rules of the game had changed, and for once the trickster has no idea what pieces to move or where to place them. The shift in mood and energy between them was like a gathering charge, and the wheels in Loki’s mind spun frantically, replaying and reviewing - where had he faltered, where was the misstep, how had he failed? - his heart racing as he watched those blunt fingers curl and flex.

Fear. That was what he felt—not an icy nibble of it but a dousing wave that left him weakened and curiously grateful to be so near to the floor. Thor’s growl made his stomach tighten, and the back of his neck prickle in warning.

                            {Too late, too slow.}

The pain registered as an explosion of white, remnants glittering at the edges of his vision as he cautiously checked that nothing had been broken. No. Bruised no doubt, and the unexpected click of teeth against tongue had left an after-taste of metal, but otherwise there was no harm done, though he now rested awkwardly on both knees, all poise and balance lost, his dark hair loose and tangled by the sudden movement. He stared up at the god-king and listened.

As if his life hung on every utterance.

Only in the first pause did he recognize the sound that had followed that sudden blow—the same half-panicked whimper that still tickled the back of his throat as he nodded in understanding, but his eyes came to rest on Thor’s hand, tracing the lines and strong curves roughened by the tools of the warrior’s trade. Familiar in every angle, rendered strange to him by circumstance, and his imagination took dark turns and twisted routes he’d never have admitted to aloud.

Underneath the fear pulsed a second response, contrary to the point of madness, and he made no attempt to gather himself proudly or offer any habitual scathing words of rebuke.

He feared for his life. That was not his only reaction, but it was enough to still him, for the moment.

"Yes, my king." His voice was a soothing brush of sound in the heavy silence, but the words were offered too easily to be trusted, his loyalty given far too quickly. He wanted to push and test, even as foolish as he knew the impulse was. "I understand—I should never have questioned you so." Slowly, Loki unfurled himself from the floor in a single, graceful motion. Thor had strength, but this… this, he lacked, and the imp all but flaunted it now. “May I ask what your orders are, my liege?”

[theboldruler]

It was a proper meeting of bone on bone, the sharp, resounding snap sending shivers up Thor's spine. It seemed Loki's jaw hadn't quite been broken, and in some manner, he was glad - silencing the liesmith too soon would hardly allow the enjoyment of the remainder of their reunion. But Thor relished that sound, and wished he'd a means of recording it, lest he desire to hear it again.

                          { It mattered not.                                                    He'd hit harder next time, too. }

The heat which slowly radiated from Thor's knuckles to his wrist was not altogether unpleasant. On the contrary, the pain ensured the careful inscription of what had just transpired, a most cherished memory to be. Those sapphire eyes glinted in appreciation of the bitter sting, the reminiscent ache, and Thor fought to restrain a breathy moan. For a few brief moments, he was adrift in his own personal head-space, ignorant of Loki's actions. He'd missed his brother; he missed each and every opportunity for this. 

How sorely disappointed he was... to see that his brother was standing.  To see that he still could.

To escape the perimeters, the boundaries he'd so meticulously set for himself... it would ruin Thor. It would ruin Loki, too. And at that thought, blood boiled, pupils dilated, and each and every tremor was amplified by pure electric thrill. He didn't need Mjolnir to conjure storms: the torrent, the tempest wave of thunder and lightning gathering within sinuous, straining muscles. He was bound to unleash it all. How could he not? He was harbinger of hurricanes, Thor the Almighty, ruler of all Asgard. Surely, one unruly subject was no different from the rest, and would receive their just punishment in turn.

                                  { But Loki was not that. He was no mere subject.                            He would be a slave to Thor's will. }

Quicksilver flash of steely armor marked the beginnings of his brother's downfall, his only possible end. Fingers curled about the trickster's throat, akin to an iron vice, unrelenting and unforgiving. Thor's opposite hand came to Loki's shoulders, teeth gritting, grinding, barred in feral disgust as he inched closer. His breath came in short gasps, excited by the other's fear, enamored by that vulnerability so evident in apologetic eyes. 

"Strange... I thought I'd said that questions were forbidden..." The hand tightened, and Thor jerked Loki forward, such that hot breath coasted along the shell of the trickster's ear. "If you wish to last longer than the others, you will heed my every word. You will offer your council only when it is asked of you... else I will not hesitate to cut out that silver tongue of yours." What came next was unmistakably inhuman. 

It was a warning, electric current blistering the pale skin of Loki's neck, sparking energies passing from breath onto flesh, fingertips into red-hot nerves. It drained Thor, made him ache, all with shameless sweetness in his eyes. It would hurt Loki more than it would him, and he longed to see him writhe and twist and futilely attempt to escape his hold.

"Tell me you understand, brother. Tell me that you live to serve me, and only me." 

[deadlyxgentleman-archive-blog]

[Text]: There’s blood. There’s a lot of blood.

[txt] Is that a complaint?

[theboldruler]

[text] More of a commentary, really.

[text] And perhaps an invitation. 

[incxendium-archive]

                                      Do not                                              ｕｎｄｅｒｅｓｔｉｍａｔｅ                                 the                                   ＦＵＲＹ                                                   I can ＵＮＬＥＡＳＨ

[theboldruler]

asgardscalm replied to your post:Did you know that "Bold Ruler" is the name of a great race horse, whom has a seat in the hall of fame of race horses, and also sired the horse "Secretariat" that is to this day considered one of, if not the. best race horse through time?

-not so nonnie- I only notice you might actually be aware when i scanned through your playlist too, then it felt rather obvious all of a sudden xD

// Yes, the main theme from Secretariat really helps me channel my muse, hence why it is on le playlist. ^.^ Pleasure to meet you, and I'm glad you caught that!