The Edge of Surrender
The room was dimmed to its usual soft glow, the quiet hum of anticipation thick in the air. Bakugou stood near the center of the space again, the familiar weight of the collar resting against his skin like an unseen anchor. Tonight, there was a subtle tension in his muscles, an underlying current of excitement that pulsed just beneath the surface of his usual bravado. He had been here before—stepping into Aizawa's space, acknowledging the boundaries they had begun to explore—but this time felt different. Tonight, something in him was ready to shift.
He couldn’t quite put his finger on it—maybe it was the way Aizawa had slowly cracked open that wall of resistance inside him, or the way every encounter seemed to peel back another layer of control that he had held onto for so long. Whatever it was, Bakugou could feel it: an undeniable pull. It wasn’t just about power, about control. It was about something deeper, something more visceral, something that gnawed at him in the quiet moments when he let his guard down.
Aizawa was already waiting, seated in his usual spot. His posture was relaxed but calculated, his eyes never leaving Bakugou as the younger man approached. There was no rush, no sense of urgency in his movements. Everything about Aizawa radiated calm authority, the kind of stillness that could unravel even the most tightly wound individual.
“Tonight,” Aizawa’s voice cut through the silence, low and deliberate, “we explore what happens when you let go fully. No reservations. No holding back.”
Bakugou swallowed, his throat dry as the words settled in. He had been expecting something like this. He had known that the deeper they went, the more he would have to confront his own hesitation, his own refusal to be vulnerable. But hearing Aizawa put it so bluntly made something inside him stir.
“You’re really going to push me tonight, huh?” Bakugou’s voice was rough, laced with that trademark edge of defiance he couldn’t quite shake.
Aizawa’s lips quirked upward slightly. It wasn’t a smile, not exactly. More like the glimmer of something knowing—something patient.
“I won’t push you past your limits. But I will ask you to push yourself.” Aizawa’s eyes held a glint of something more intense now. “You’ve been hesitant to let go. But tonight, Bakugou… tonight, I want to see you surrender completely. I want you to trust me fully.”
Bakugou’s pulse quickened. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t anxiety. It was something else. Something electric. His mind flickered between resisting and letting go, between the pride he had carried for so long and the strange pull in his gut, urging him toward something new.
“Yeah, alright,” Bakugou muttered, the words more for himself than anything else. He wasn’t sure why he was agreeing so easily, but he knew that whatever Aizawa had in mind, he wasn’t about to back down now.
Aizawa stood then, slow and measured, his movements deliberate, and Bakugou could feel the air shift around them. There was an intensity in the way Aizawa moved, a grace and control that reminded Bakugou that this wasn’t just about physicality—it was about something far deeper.
“I’m going to start with something simple,” Aizawa said, his voice low, but with an edge that made Bakugou’s breath hitch slightly. “Take off your shirt.”
The command was simple, direct, but it sent a jolt of heat rushing through Bakugou. He was used to physical orders, commands meant to test his strength, but this… this was different. There was no fight in Aizawa’s voice, no challenge. Just quiet certainty. And it was the certainty that did it—didn’t matter if Bakugou was an Alpha, didn’t matter if he was supposed to be the one in control. He could feel it. The quiet force of Aizawa’s presence, his control, and his understanding. It made him feel exposed, and that exposure was exactly what Aizawa wanted.
With a grunt, Bakugou pulled his shirt off, tossing it aside. The cool air immediately hit his skin, but it wasn’t the chill he felt. It was the way Aizawa’s eyes tracked him, appraising him, taking in the lines of his body with the kind of focused attention that sent a thrill running through Bakugou’s veins.
Aizawa’s gaze flickered downward, and for a moment, Bakugou felt his muscles tense. He knew the way his body looked, knew the fire that was in his every movement. But under Aizawa’s gaze, there was something different. The older man didn’t look at him with lust. No, it wasn’t just that. It was something far deeper, something that both unnerved and stirred him. It was the way Aizawa made him feel seen—fully seen, in a way that no one ever had.
“Good,” Aizawa murmured, stepping closer, his proximity intensifying the heat building between them. His voice dropped lower, more intimate now. “Now, I want you to kneel.”
Bakugou’s breath caught. There it was again—the command, but this time, it hit differently. The weight of it was not just in the words, but in how Aizawa carried them. The control, the authority behind them, left no room for refusal. It wasn’t a request; it was an expectation.
Bakugou’s instincts screamed at him to resist, but instead, his body betrayed him, his knees hitting the floor with a soft thud. It wasn’t a submission, not exactly. But it was a choice. A choice to follow. To trust.
Aizawa’s voice was calm, almost soothing. “Good. Now, look at me.”
Bakugou did as instructed, though it took more than a little effort to keep his gaze steady. There was a heat swirling in the pit of his stomach, a confusing mix of desire and frustration, of need and hesitation. But through it all, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Aizawa. He could feel the older man’s gaze on him, as though Aizawa was seeing something in him that Bakugou hadn’t allowed himself to see.
Aizawa took another step closer, just close enough for Bakugou to feel the warmth radiating from his body. Then, with slow precision, he reached out, his hand brushing against Bakugou’s jaw, the touch light but firm.
“Do you trust me, Bakugou?” Aizawa’s voice was almost a whisper, but it cut through the air with the same command he always carried. “Do you trust me enough to let go completely?”
Bakugou’s throat was dry, his mind spinning as he stared up at Aizawa. He had been fighting it for so long, hadn’t he? Fighting the vulnerability. Fighting the desire to let go. To be weak. But something about Aizawa’s steady presence, the calm control in his eyes, made Bakugou want to drop every ounce of resistance he had.
“I…” Bakugou hesitated. His breath hitched in his chest. “I trust you.”
It was barely above a whisper, but it was enough. Aizawa’s lips curled slightly, the faintest hint of satisfaction crossing his features. He didn’t speak immediately, just continued to observe Bakugou as though assessing the weight of his words.
Then, without another word, Aizawa moved behind him, his fingers brushing against Bakugou’s shoulders, his touch gentle yet commanding. Bakugou’s body tensed, but he didn’t pull away. He could feel the heat of Aizawa’s breath on the back of his neck as Aizawa leaned in, his mouth hovering just beside Bakugou’s ear.
“Good,” Aizawa murmured. “Now, you’re going to show me how you surrender.”
Before Bakugou could even register the words, Aizawa’s hands moved to the back of his neck, tugging the collar taut. The pressure sent a rush of heat through Bakugou’s chest, his body arching instinctively as the restraint pulled against his skin.
Bakugou’s breath caught in his throat. He could feel the sharp edge of his own arousal beginning to burn low in his belly. Aizawa wasn’t being rough—not yet. But there was something undeniably commanding in the way he held Bakugou, something that made every part of him thrum with anticipation.
Aizawa’s lips brushed against the shell of Bakugou’s ear, his voice a low growl of authority. “Do you know how many men would kill for this opportunity? To be in your position, to have someone like me to guide them? You’re not weak, Bakugou. You’re not broken. But you are human, and even the strongest need someone to trust. To give them that release.”
Bakugou shivered, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. He could feel it now—feel the need coiling in his gut, spreading like wildfire through his veins. Aizawa was right. He had been so determined to resist, to keep control. But now, with Aizawa’s steady hands on his body, with his voice guiding him, Bakugou found himself teetering on the edge of something far more intimate, far more powerful than he could have imagined.
He let go then. Fully. The walls he had built around his heart, around his emotions, around his need for control—he allowed them to fall. He allowed Aizawa to guide him, to shape him, to push him beyond what he had thought possible.
And for the first time in his life, Bakugou understood. He understood that surrender wasn’t weakness. It was strength. And it was the most liberating feeling he had ever known.