#tonraq

The second piece I did for @atlazine vol 3! The theme was generations.

➤Part 2

Tonraq blinked.

Once.

Slow, deliberate, like he was trying to decide if you were serious or if this was just how you were.

“Is there a reason why you’re here?” he asked, voice even, though there was a faint edge of curiosity beneath it now.

You shrugged, completely unbothered, still crouched in the snow while his daughter clung to your sleeve like she’d claimed you.

“Not particularly,” you said lightly. “I mean… I’ve never been here before, so I was curious.”

There was a pause, a very long pause, one that stretched just enough to feel intentional.

Tonraq stared at you.

You stared back.

Korra babbled happily between you, completely unaware she was the only thing keeping this from turning into a very awkward silence.

“….”

You blinked, then your grin slowly spread, a little mischievous, a little too confident for someone who had eaten snow not even a minute ago.

“Careful,” you said, tilting your head slightly, brushing a bit of frost from your sleeve with exaggerated ease. “Don’t watch too long… you might fall in love with me.”

......

Korra made a small, impatient noise and tugged at your sleeve again like, hello? attention?

Tonraq’s eyes flicked briefly to her, then back to you. “…You just fell into the snow,” he said flatly.

You gasped softly, pressing a hand to your chest in mock offense. “First of all....that was intentional.”

“It didn’t look intentional.”

“It was a demonstration,” you corrected, lifting your chin. “Very advanced Fire Nation technique. You wouldn’t understand.”

Korra giggled again, clearly siding with you regardless of logic.

Tonraq exhaled slowly through his nose, something dangerously close to amusement flickering in his expression before he smothered it. “…Right.”

You pointed at him, narrowing your eyes playfully. “That sounded like disbelief.”

“That’s because it was.”

You huffed, shifting slightly in the snow as Korra leaned more into you, her tiny hands now trying to grab at your hair.

“Hey!!! hey....none of that,” you murmured, gently catching her hands. “You’re bold and grabby. A Dangerous combination.”

“She likes you,” Tonraq repeated, but this time there was more weight to it.

You glanced up at him, something softer slipping into your expression before you masked it with a small smile.

“Well,” you said, quieter now, “she’s got good instincts.”

Korra made a pleased sound like she agreed.

Tonraq studied you again.

Not just your words this time but the way you handled her.

Careful. Natural. Like you weren’t trying.

“…You’re not worried?” he asked after a moment.

“About what?”

“Being here alone.”

You shrugged again, easy, almost careless but not foolish.

“I can handle myself,” you said simply, a faint flicker of heat dancing briefly at your fingertips before disappearing just as quickly. “Besides… I’m more worried about slipping again and embarrassing myself in front of her.”

Korra squealed, delighted, as if she understood she was being considered the most important audience.

Tonraq’s gaze dropped to the faint trace of fire that had sparked in your hand then back to you. "So not only are you from the Fire Nation, you are also a …Firebender,”

You smiled, a little sharper this time. “The best.”

“…You’re going to freeze.”

You blinked. “Rude.”

“You’re not dressed for this,” he clarified, nodding toward your clothes, still dusted with snow. “You won’t last long out here.”

You opened your mouth to argue then a breeze cut through, biting and cold, making you visibly shiver as you froze for a moment.

Tonraq raised an eyebrow.

You straightened immediately. “That was a one-time reaction.”

Korra made a soft sound, patting your arm like she was comforting you.

“…Oh no,” you whispered, looking at her. “Don’t you start pitying me too.”

Tonraq exhaled again, this time it was a quiet, unmistakable huff of amusement because he knew his daughter and being the chief of the village he knew he had to do something.

“You should come with us.”

You blinked. “…That sounds like the beginning of a kidnapping.”

“It’s not.”

“Good, because I don’t think I have the energy to fight you in the snow,” you admitted.

“You wouldn’t win.”

You squinted at him. “…I might.”

“You fell walking.”

“ON PURPOSE.”

Korra laughed again, loud, bright, completely entertained.

Tonraq shook his head slightly, but there was no real dismissal in it anymore, just quiet acceptance.

You sighed dramatically, glancing between him and the tiny human still clinging to you.

“…Alright,” you said finally, pushing yourself up again, brushing off what felt like another layer of snow. “But if I fall again, I’m blaming both of you.”

Korra immediately clapped as Tonraq gestured for you to walk ahead.

You took one step.

Carefully.

Very carefully.

“…If I slip again,” you muttered under your breath, “I’m actually leaving the nation.”

Tonraq’s voice came a second too late, calm, but with that quiet weight behind it.

“You’re not…” he started, watching the way you steadied yourself in the snow like it had personally offended you. “…you do realize she’s the Avatar.”

You paused mid-step, blinked then slowly turned your head then looked down at the tiny girl still clutching your sleeve then back up at him.

“…And?” you said, completely unimpressed. “She’s still a baby.”

Korra let out a proud little noise, like she agreed with you, and promptly tried to shove her entire mittened hand into your mouth.

You caught it just in time. “Absolutely not,” you muttered, gently pushing her hand away. “We are not eating strangers today. That’s where I draw the line.”

Tonraq stared at you, not shocked, not offended, just processing what you just said because most people reacted to that information with awe, with reverence, with hesitation.

But you?

You were arguing with his daughter about putting her hand in your mouth.

“…She’s the Avatar,” he repeated, slower this time.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, chosen one, balance of the world, all that....very impressive.” You crouched slightly again, adjusting the little bundle of furs around her so she didn’t topple forward.

“Still a baby,” you added, softer now, brushing a bit of frost off her cheek. “Still gonna drool. Still gonna grab things she shouldn’t. Still gonna need someone making sure she doesn’t faceplant into snow like I did.”

Korra giggled at that, clearly thinking the faceplant part was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

Tonraq’s gaze shifted as something in his shoulders eased, just a fraction. “…Most people don’t talk about her like that,” he said.

You glanced up at him again, brows lifting slightly then scoffed.“What, like she’s some untouchable spirit figure?” you snorted. “She’s got chubby cheeks and just tried to eat my hand. I think we can keep things realistic.”

Korra squealed again, clearly thrilled to be included in the conversation about herself.

You grinned at her. “Yeah, I’m talking about you, tiny menace.”

She reached for you again.

You sighed like it was a burden, but didn’t move away.

Tonraq watched the way you adjusted automatically so she wouldn’t lose her grip, the way you didn’t even hesitate.The way you didn’t treat her like something fragile or something sacred.

Just… a child.

“…You’re strange,” he said after a moment.

You gasped softly, placing a hand over your heart again. “Wow. First you doubt my very real snow technique, now you insult me? This is how you treat guests?”

“You invited yourself.”

“Details.”

Korra babbled between you again, completely content, her tiny hand now patting your cheek like she was approving of you.

You blinked, then softened immediately. “…Okay, that’s actually kind of cute,” you admitted.

Tonraq’s gaze lingered on you again, longer this time. “…You’re not afraid of her,” he said.

You looked up at him like that was the most ridiculous thing he’d said yet. “Why would I be?”

“She’s powerful.”

“So?” you shrugged. “So am I.”

There was no arrogance in it, just a simple fact.

Tonraq’s eyes flicked briefly to your hands again, like he could still feel the trace of heat you’d shown earlier. “…Power like hers isn’t something to take lightly.”

Your expression softened, just a little. “I’m not taking it lightly,” you said. “I’m just not going to treat her like she’s already carrying the whole world on her shoulders.”

You looked down at Korra again, brushing your thumb gently over her mitten. "She's got time for that later and then, she still won't be alone."

Korra leaned into the touch, content, trusting.

Tonraq went still, because that wasn’t something most people understood.

You stood back up carefully, still adjusting to the snow under your feet, and glanced at him again with a small, crooked smile. “Relax,” you added lightly. “I’m not going to start training her or anything....…Unless you ask nicely.”

Tonraq huffed, quiet, almost a breath of a laugh before he caught it. “You talk a lot.”

You grinned instantly. “You noticed.”

Korra squealed again like she was encouraging you.

You pointed at her. “See? She gets me.”

Tonraq shook his head slightly, but this time there was no resistance left in it.

Just a quiet acceptance of the chaos you brought with you. “…Come on,” he said finally, turning slightly. “If you’re staying, you’ll need somewhere warm.”

You lit up immediately. “See? I knew falling into the snow would pay off.”

“You’re not doing that again.”

“No promises.”

Reader: Older male genie reader (he/him),

NSFW: Chastity, bondage, gags and humiliation (i dont have strong limits. I just ask that the reader isnt abusive towards Tonraq nor does he or anyone engage in any forms of misogyny).

Sex Role: Dom reader

Setting: Set in an Aladdin AU, Tonraq is the Sultan of the kingdom and is recognized as a man of power by everyone. But no one knows that hes having sexual relations with a genie who has him locked in a chastity cage, which is his lamp, and makes him perform sexual acts in secret. You can decide on the intimate acts between them as long as Tonraq is kept caged and cloth gagged.

I hope you like it! Sorry it took so long :,)

MDNI 18+

Contains: sub!Tonraq x dom!maleGenieReader, bondage, cloth gagging, gag speak, male chastitsy, public humiliation, power exchange, orgasm denial

The Palace of the Southern Water Tribe rose from the coast as a monument to endurance—a citadel of stone and water-polished marble. To the outside world, Sultan Tonraq was the immovable force.

He was the ruler who had stitched the southern clans back together. Yet even the strongest current has an unseen undertow, and Tonraq’s was bound to the dull gleam of an ancient lamp and the entity who owned what he had surrendered.

The burden of rule had crushed him years earlier. He needed a place where the crown did not exist.

You had emerged from the lamp as something absolute. By day, you lent him the resolve to govern. By night, he yielded his freedom entirely.

Beneath ceremonial robes, Tonraq lived with a constant awareness of his submission. The chastity device—smooth, unyielding steel—was a permanent fixture. It pressed into him during councils, a silent, pinching reminder that while he commanded the South, he had no authority over himself.

⸻

The tension sharpened during a formal banquet for Earth Kingdom emissaries. You moved unseen, a presence like dry heat against coastal air. Tonraq presided at the table, posture flawless. Your voice brushed his ear as your unseen hand slipped beneath the table. A single touch against the lock of the cage was enough. His shoulders stiffened, the wine in his cup trembling.

“They believe your attention is on patrol routes,” you murmured. “But you’re counting every breath instead.”

Tonraq cleared his throat, forcing his voice to remain the deep, steady baritone the public expected. “The naval rotations must remain consistent,” he said, his tone authoritative despite the fire blooming in his gut. “Any lapse would be costly.”

An elder across the table frowned slightly. “Sultan, are you unwell? You seem... distracted.”

Tonraq did not turn, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his goblet. “The hall is warmer than expected,” he replied evenly, his eyes fixed forward. “Nothing more.”

Outwardly, he was the perfect sovereign. Internally, the contrast between his royal dignity and the cold steel locking him away left him burning with a secret shame.

⸻

When the last guest departed and the doors to his chambers sealed shut, the ruler ceased to exist. Tonraq undressed to the waist, revealing a body scarred and disciplined.

“Kneel,” you said, your tone final.

He obeyed, knees striking stone with a heavy thud. He offered his wrists, and you bound them high with coarse silk cords, pulling until tension settled in his shoulders.

Then you brought the cloth—heavy linen, folded thick. Tonraq opened his mouth on instinct. You filled the space, layer by layer, until his tongue was pinned and his jaw ached. The final wrap sealed his lips, knotted with a brutal snap at the back of his head.

“So this is the great Sultan,” you said, circling him. “The voice of a nation, reduced to silence. Tell me—does the title still matter now?”

He strained against the bindings, breath forced through his nose. He fought to perform his duty, to answer with the strength you demanded through the obstruction.

"Mm b-l’ng t’ yoo. Mm sh-p’k o-nlee wh-n a-l-ow’d." ("I belong to you. I speak only when allowed.")

⸻

The hours that followed were a slow, methodical dismantling of the Sultan’s dignity.

You moved with the unhurried grace of a master who knew their subject’s limits better than the man himself.

Tonraq remained on his knees, his torso a map of tensed muscle and glistening sweat, his arms pulled so high behind him that every breath was an exercise in endurance.

⸻

You draped yourself over his broad back, your chest pressing against his scarred shoulder blades. The contrast was striking—your cool, ethereal touch against the furnace of his skin.

You reached around his waist, your fingers dancing just above the cold steel of the chastity cage. You didn't unlock it; instead, you manipulated the device, tugging it just enough to make him grunt into the heavy linen of his gag.

"You’re so responsive tonight, Tonraq," you whispered, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Even through the steel, you're trying to reach for me. Show me how much you want it. Show me how the Sultan begs when he’s been silenced."

He bucked his hips instinctively, a sharp, rhythmic motion that sent the metal biting into his flesh.

The frustration was visible in the way his thighs shook, his knees grinding into the stone floor. He was a man built for action, for conquest, but here he was trapped in a cycle of rising need and clinical denial.

You used your magic to heighten the sensitivity of the skin trapped within the cage, making the confinement feel twice as narrow.

He tried to respond, his voice a deep, vibrating wreck that rattled against the padding in his mouth.

"‘T h-rr-tsh... b-t Mm n-ee-d m-rr. D-nn’t sht-pp." ("It hurts, but I need more. Do not stop.")

You increased the pace, your hands wandering over his pectorals, your thumbs catching his nipples and pulling sharply.

Tonraq’s head snapped back, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling as a long, muffled wail of "Mmmph-nnngh!" tore from his throat.

You shifted your weight, grinding your own hips against his lower back, ensuring he felt every curve of your form while he remained encased in his metal cage.

The sensory overload was absolute.

You began to stroke the length of his bound thighs, your touch sparking like lightning against his skin, while the heavy cloth in his mouth forced him to swallow his own desperate groans.

"You look so beautiful like this," you purred, reaching around to grip the knot of his gag, tilting his head back until he was forced to look at you. "Muted. Bound. Caged. A ruler of thousands, but you can't even touch yourself. Tell me, who is the real master of the Southern Tribe?"

He heaved, his chest expanding to its limit, the silk cords around his wrists creaking with the strain as he tried to speak through the thick layers of the linen.

"Yoo ah-rr. Mm’m n-th’ng b’t yoor t’oy. P’lee-sh, Mmm-maish-t’rr." ("You are. I am nothing but your toy. Please, Master.")

⸻

You didn't give him the release he craved. Instead, you pushed him to the very brink of a ruined peak, using your influence to keep his body on the jagged edge of climax without ever letting the steel lock yield.

You spent time tracing the lines of his abs, your nails lightly scratching the skin, while he shuddered uncontrollably.

When he was at his most desperate, his muffled cries turning into rhythmic, animalistic hums of "Mmm-mmm-mmm!", you suddenly pulled back, leaving the heat to simmer into a dull, throbbing ache.

"Stay there," you commanded softly. "Let the cold remind you of the lock. You'll remain like this until the sun touches the horizon. Only then will I allow you to be the Sultan again."

He could only nod—a slow, heavy movement of his head that signaled his total, unyielding acceptance.

The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the sound of a man who had found his only true peace in the complete surrender of his power.

⸻

The hours until dawn were a marathon of forced stillness. Tonraq remained exactly as you left him—kneeling on the frigid stone, his wrists cinched toward the ceiling, his jaw aching under the unyielding stretch of the linen gag.

He did not fight the discomfort; he wore it like a secret uniform that meant, for once, he didn't have to be the man with all the answers.

When the first sliver of grey light touched the frost on the window, the magic receded.

Tonraq worked his hands free and untied the knots of the gag, his mouth feeling cavernous and dry once the fabric was removed. He sat on his heels for a moment, savoring the lingering heat of the humiliation.

By the time the palace stirred, the Sultan had returned. He dressed in his heavy, fur-lined regalia, the weight of the blue fabric hiding the steel lock that still pinched his skin.

He stood on the Great Balcony overlooking the capital, his face a mask of iron-hard resolve.

"The South is strong!" he proclaimed, his voice booming over the harbor with an authority that seemed to shake the very ice. "We do not break. We do not falter. We endure!"

The roar of the people was deafening. They saw a conqueror who bowed to no one.

They would never know that their leader’s greatest strength was his ability to be utterly broken in the dark.

⸻

As he stepped back inside, Tonraq felt a dark, private thrill. The more they cheered for his "unbreakable" spirit, the more he cherished the memory of the night’s ruin.

He realized that he wasn't burdened by the bargain; he was unburdened by it.

By surrendering his will to you in the dark, he found the strength to carry the world in the light.

ɪғ ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ʙɪᴛᴄʜ

ɪ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ғᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ

I´m ready to get burned again