Chapter 1
☆The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of classical music playing from hidden speakers. The air felt thick with tension, heavy in its stillness. Everything about the space was designed for control. The black leather of the chairs, the polished wooden floors, and the soft lighting that cast shadows on every corner of the room. It was a sanctuary, a place where power and vulnerability were both intertwined. And yet, for all its serenity, there was something about it that unsettled Bakugou.
Katsuki Bakugou was used to chaos. He thrived in it. He was a force to be reckoned with—an Alpha through and through, with a fiery temper and a need to be in charge. He had always been the one who took the lead, the one others followed, the one who refused to let anyone, or anything, dictate the terms of his life. Control was his birthright. But today, in this room, something was different. There was something about the man sitting across from him that commanded attention without saying a word.
Shouta Aizawa, a seasoned and respected BDSM Dom, had a presence that was almost unnerving. His hair, dark and tousled in a way that seemed effortless, framed a face that was as hard and unyielding as his demeanor. His eyes—those piercing, tired eyes—locked onto Bakugou’s with a calm that felt like an anchor. There was no arrogance in Aizawa’s gaze, only a quiet authority that seemed to radiate from him, as if he had the power to bend the very air around them to his will.
Bakugou’s hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his usual brashness simmering just beneath the surface. He wasn’t sure why he was here. Why he had even agreed to this. He had never been one to entertain the idea of submission, least of all to a man like Aizawa. But there was something about him, something in the way Aizawa moved, spoke, and held himself that intrigued Bakugou. It was as if Aizawa had mastered the art of control in a way Bakugou couldn’t fathom. And yet, Bakugou could feel the challenge, the unspoken invitation to test that control.
"I don’t expect you to understand it right away," Aizawa’s voice was low, steady, and measured. He was sitting across from Bakugou, arms crossed casually, as if this conversation were nothing out of the ordinary. "But submission isn’t about weakness, Bakugou. It’s about trust. It’s about being able to surrender to someone who can take control and guide you through something deeper. You don’t have to believe me now, but I need you to listen."
Bakugou’s lip curled into a sneer, his body bristling with resistance. "I don’t need anyone to tell me what to do," he snapped, the familiar fire of his temper flaring. "I don’t need some...some control freak trying to get me to bow down. I’ve never been one to bend for anyone."
Aizawa didn’t react. He didn’t flinch. His gaze remained unwavering, his expression unreadable. "That’s exactly what I’m asking you to consider," he said quietly, his tone never rising. "To stop thinking of it as bending, or bowing. Think of it as giving someone you trust the permission to lead you. Not because you’re weak, but because you’re strong enough to let go."
Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat at the way Aizawa spoke, the calm authority in his voice laced with something deeper. It was as if Aizawa had seen through all of Bakugou’s bravado, all of his walls, and understood something about him that Bakugou had never been able to articulate himself. It was unsettling. He didn’t like it. And yet, there was something in him that wanted to hear more.
"You’ve never considered submission before, have you?" Aizawa’s eyes narrowed slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he knew exactly what Bakugou was feeling. "It’s not something you need to dive into headfirst. You’re here because you’re curious, not because you’re desperate for someone to control you. But curiosity, Bakugou, is the first step."
Bakugou wanted to argue, to snap back with something sharp, but the words caught in his throat. Something about Aizawa’s gaze held him in place, like a magnet pulling him in despite his best efforts to resist.
"Let me make this clear," Aizawa continued, his voice steady, a slight edge of steel creeping into his words. "You’re here to explore the possibility of submission. Not because I’m asking you to give up everything that makes you who you are. But because I’m asking you to trust me. To trust that you can be more than just the Alpha who’s always in charge. That you can find a strength in letting go, in yielding, even for a moment."
Bakugou felt the urge to fight back, to lash out at the idea that letting go of control could somehow make him stronger. It felt like everything he had ever known was being questioned. But Aizawa’s presence, quiet and unwavering, made it hard to ignore the pull of his words.
Aizawa rose slowly, his movements deliberate, and Bakugou couldn’t help but watch as he approached a table in the corner of the room. There, carefully laid out, were a variety of implements—restraints, paddles, floggers—and a collar, each piece seeming to gleam in the soft light. For a moment, Bakugou’s stomach tightened. The idea of being tied down, controlled by someone else—it was alien to him, repulsive even. And yet, there was a strange, almost magnetic attraction to the sight of it all.
Aizawa turned back toward him, his gaze never leaving Bakugou’s. "Submission requires more than just following instructions," he said, his voice low, but firm. "It requires communication. Boundaries. Trust. And most importantly, respect. Before we go any further, we need to establish what you’re comfortable with. What you’re not comfortable with. What I can and cannot do. Because, Bakugou, when you step into this world, there’s no room for ambiguity. There’s no room for guesswork. Do you understand?"
Bakugou didn’t answer immediately. His chest was tight, the weight of the words settling in. Part of him wanted to protest. Part of him wanted to refuse, to walk out of the room and never look back. But another part, the part that had been slowly unraveling ever since Aizawa’s gaze had first locked onto his, felt the need to see this through. He wasn’t sure why—maybe it was the challenge, maybe it was the curiosity, or maybe it was the way Aizawa made everything feel like it mattered.
With a sharp exhale, Bakugou nodded, his voice low and almost reluctant. "I understand."
Aizawa’s lips curved into the faintest smile, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, but still held something warm beneath the surface. "Good. We’ll take it slow. We’ll go at your pace. But you need to know this: there’s no room for doubt here. If you can’t follow my lead, if you can’t trust me, then this stops."
Bakugou swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment press in on him. It was one thing to be offered control, but it was another to consider giving it up. Aizawa wasn’t asking for blind obedience. He wasn’t asking for Bakugou to submit without question. He was asking for trust. And that, in itself, was a terrifying thing to offer.
But despite the fear, despite the doubts, Bakugou found himself unable to look away from Aizawa. The older man’s authority wasn’t something to fight against. It was something to understand.
And as much as Bakugou hated to admit it, he was beginning to wonder if this—this dynamic—could be exactly what he needed.
"Let’s start," Aizawa said, his voice commanding but not unkind, as he slowly moved toward the table of tools. "Let’s see if you can follow instructions."
Bakugou’s heart raced as he stepped forward, uncertain but intrigued, ready to step into a world he couldn’t yet fully comprehend.☆