Chapter Text
The sound of sneakers screeching against the clay court mixed with the sharp, rhythmic thud of a tennis ball striking taut strings. The air was thick with late-summer heat, the kind that clung to skin and made every movement feel heavier.
Katsuki Bakugo wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist, eyes locked on his longtime rival across the net. Midoriya Izuku, just as breathless, just as drenched in sweat, met his gaze with an intensity that sent a spark of something unnamed through Katsuki’s chest, a feeling he has been trying to shut out for his whole damn career.
“Two sets each,” Izuku panted, rolling his shoulder as he prepared to serve. “You’re not gonna let me take this last one easily, right Kacchan?”
“Tch. Like hell I would Deku.” Katsuki yelled across the clay court, adjusting his grip on his racket, every muscle tensing with anticipation. He was always chasing victory, but something about winning against Izuku made it feel different. More desperate. More vital. A gnawing fire that kept growing and spreading throughout his entire body, a thought consuming each moment of his tennis life.
The match had drawn the usual spectators—teammates, friends, and a few casual fans who had grown accustomed to the legendary battles between the two. Among them, Ochako Uraraka sat on the bleachers, fingers gripping the hem of her skirt. She was smiling, but there was a nervousness in the way she watched Izuku. She always got like this when he played against Katsuki.
It wasn’t because she didn’t believe in him. If anything, she admired the way he fought so fiercely, the way he never let a match slip away without exhausting every ounce of his effort. But with Katsuki, it was different. Their rivalry was built on something deeper, something neither of them ever spoke about. It was like they both needed to prove something to each other every time they stepped on the court.
Izuku’s serve came fast, but Katsuki always seemed to be faster. He read the spin, pivoted on instinct, and sent the ball screaming back over the net. The rally began—long, grueling, each shot more physically punishing than the last. Katsuki could feel the burn in his legs, the ache in his lungs, but he didn’t care. He wanted to push Izuku further, wanted to see how much more he could take, how much more he could give.
And Izuku gave. With every return, every perfectly calculated angle, he fought Katsuki like he was fighting gravity itself. But there was something else in his eyes, too, something beyond the competition. A look that Katsuki had seen before, but never let himself name.
The final rally ended with Katsuki lunging for a shot that sent him sprawling across the court. The moment his racket connected, he knew it wasn’t enough. The ball clipped the net and fell limp.
‘Match, Izuku Midoriya!’ Chanted Kirishima, who always tried to proclaim himself as the Chair Umpire, somehow always messing up the scores, and what-not.
Katsuki lay there for a moment, chest heaving, heart pounding against his ribs—not just from exertion, but from something heavier, something unspoken. When he finally looked up, Izuku was standing over him, offering his hand.
“Hell of a game,” Izuku said, grinning, green eyes shining, his wide grin stretching across his face. A face Katsuki will never be tired of looking at.
Katsuki hesitated, then took the offered hand, gripping it harder than necessary. “You got lucky nerd. I just didn’t use my full strength this time. I was pitying you.”
Izuku chuckled, pulling him up. Their hands lingered for a fraction of a second too long, fingers brushing before they let go. A red glow stretched across Katsuki’s face - but each time he brushes it off with convincing himself its the horrible heat. Which, in reality, it never truly is.
Ochako was already making her way down the bleachers, calling out Izuku’s name with that familiar warmth in her voice, her hand waving high in the air to try and grab Izuku's attention. He instantly turned toward her, and Katsuki felt something sharp twist inside his chest. He told himself it was just frustration. Just the sting of losing.
But as he watched Izuku jog toward her, her arms wrapping around him in a way that was effortless, an uncharted territory that he always wanted to explore, to feel Deku the way Ochako does after every match.
He tried convincing himself the internal pain he felt was from losing. But the more he looked at their fingers intertwining and Deku’s flimsy laugh at each of her small jokes, Katsuki knew.
He knew he lost more than just a match that day.
Chapter 2: shadows of a different kind
Summary:
Its getting heated... *smiling cat emoji*
Notes:
I couldn't resist posting another one - so here it is!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Katsuki didn’t stay for the usual post-match chatter. The moment the match ended and the polite applause faded, he grabbed his bag and stormed off the court, ignoring the congratulations from a few teammates. He needed to cool off. Needed to get that look out of his head—the way Izuku had smiled at him, just before turning to her.
The locker room was mercifully empty when he entered. He threw his racket onto the bench and yanked open his locker, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long swig. The cold did little to put out the fire still burning in his chest.
“Damn nerd,” he muttered under his breath, pressing his forehead against the cool metal of the locker. He hated losing to Izuku. Hated it more than anything. But today, it wasn’t just the loss that stung—it was the way it felt like something was slipping through his fingers, something he hadn’t even realized he wanted to hold onto.
The door creaked open behind him, and he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.
“You left pretty fast,” Izuku said, his voice softer than it had been on the court.
Katsuki scoffed. “Why the hell do you care?”
Izuku didn’t answer right away. Instead, Katsuki heard the sound of a bag hitting the bench, the rustling of clothes. He turned, leaning against his locker, watching as Izuku ran a towel through his damp hair.
“You played well,” Izuku finally said. “I mean it.”
Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Don’t need you to tell me that.”
Izuku sighed, shaking his head with a small, knowing smile. “You’re impossible.”
Katsuki should have left it there. Should have grabbed his stuff and walked out, like he always did. But something kept him rooted to the spot. Something about the way Izuku was looking at him—like he was trying to figure him out, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say something more.
And then, before Katsuki could stop himself, the words slipped out.
“Does she know?”
Izuku froze, towel still in his hands. “What?”
Katsuki clenched his jaw, feeling like he’d already said too much. But there was no turning back now. “Does she know that you look at me like that?”
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Izuku’s grip on the towel tightened, his knuckles white.
“Kacchan…” His voice was barely above a whisper.
Katsuki didn’t wait for whatever excuse, whatever denial was about to follow. He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he pushed past Izuku toward the door.
“Forget it.”
But as he stepped out into the hallway, his pulse hammering in his ears, he knew one thing for certain.
He couldn’t forget it. And neither could Izuku.
Notes:
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3: The Final Set
Summary:
Chapter 3!
Chapter Text
Katsuki Bakugo could feel the weight of Izuku’s presence long after the practice ended. They were in the locker room, the usual sounds of rustling bags and clinking bottles filling the space, but for Katsuki, it felt quieter than ever. He had always been the one to walk out first, always the one to make a swift exit, but today—today he lingered.
Izuku was just finishing up, towel draped over his shoulders as he fiddled with the straps of his bag. He glanced over at Katsuki, like he was trying to decide whether to say something or not. The air between them crackled with unspoken words, things neither of them were brave enough to say.
Katsuki’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tight. He couldn’t focus on anything but Izuku. Not the game. Not the locker room chatter. Only him.
“You gonna keep staring, or are you just gonna leave?” Izuku’s voice cut through the quiet, softer than usual. There was a hint of something in it—a crack in his armor.
Katsuki’s heartbeat thudded in his ears. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—this… unsettled. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t stop himself. His mouth was dry as he swallowed, fingers gripping his bag strap tighter.
“You always have to be so damn… annoying, huh?” Katsuki bit out, but his words felt hollow. The frustration in his chest didn’t feel like it was about the match anymore. It wasn’t about losing, or about how Izuku kept looking at him with those green eyes that seemed to see right through him. No, this… was something else.
Izuku didn’t answer. He just met his gaze, standing there silently for a moment. It was as if he could feel the tension in the air too, like he was just waiting for Katsuki to finally crack.
And then it happened.
Katsuki didn’t think. He didn’t stop to question it. He just moved, fast, like a reflex, a sudden pull. Before he knew it, he had closed the distance between them, gripping Izuku by the collar, his breath sharp and uneven. He could feel Izuku’s pulse racing against his own, could feel the way Izuku’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.
“What’s wrong with you?” Katsuki muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his grip tightening in a way that was almost possessive. “Why the hell do you look at me like that? Why do you have that look in your eyes like you need something from me? You never have. You only ever needed her - I was just always there right, always an extra—”
Izuku cut him off, his hands pushing against Katsuki’s chest. But instead of shoving him away, like Katsuki expected, Izuku’s hands lingered for just a moment, pressing against him almost as if to feel the heat of him, like he didn’t want to let go either.
“Because…” Izuku’s voice wavered, unsure, his breath hitching. “Because I could never stop thinking about you, Kacchan.”
The words hung between them, thick with unspoken meaning. Katsuki’s heart slammed in his chest. Izuku—Izuku had always been this ideal in his mind, the rival he couldn’t shake, the one he had to prove he was better than. But now, standing here, so close, with Izuku’s chest brushing against his, everything felt different. So damn different.
He didn’t know what to do with the feeling that surged inside of him, the heat that spread through his veins.
Before he could process it, before he could stop himself, his lips were on Izuku’s, hard and desperate. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t calculated. It was pure, raw need, a mix of frustration and something deeper—something that had been building for years, something neither of them had ever acknowledged before.
Izuku’s mouth softened against his, the tension in his body giving way to something else. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his hands slid up Katsuki’s arms, his fingers trailing along the muscles in a way that felt too intimate, too real. Katsuki’s breath caught in his throat. This was wrong. This shouldn’t be happening.
But it felt too good.
Izuku pulled back just enough to speak, his voice rough and breathless. “Kacchan, stop,” he said, though his hands never left Katsuki’s shoulders. “We can’t, she's out there - she will hear us—”
“Shut up, and stop thinking about her for once Deku,” Katsuki growled, his hands finding their way to Izuku’s back, pressing him closer, pulling him in. He could feel the heat of Izuku’s body against his, the way his muscles tensed in a way that mirrored his own.
Izuku’s breath quickened, his fingers digging into Katsuki’s shoulders, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he closed the space between them, their lips crashing together again, this time with a kind of urgency that neither of them had ever allowed themselves before.
They stumbled backward, the sound of their shoes skidding across the floor as they pushed each other toward the wall, their mouths meeting in a fierce kiss, tongues tangling in the heated rush of it. Katsuki felt his heart pound, felt the adrenaline surge through his body as Izuku’s hands slid down to his waist, pulling him in closer.
For a moment, they were lost in the storm of it—fingers tugging at clothes, pulling at fabric, breathless whispers of frustration, of want, of everything that had been building for so long.
Izuku’s hands were on his chest, his fingers working at the buttons of Katsuki’s shirt, and Katsuki wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the moment or something else, but he didn’t care. He needed this. Needed to feel something real. Something that wasn’t just competition.
They finally broke apart, gasping for air, their faces flushed, their bodies still pressed too close.
“Damn it,” Katsuki muttered, his hand running through his hair. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process what had just happened. “This is stupid.”
Izuku’s breath came in ragged pants, his chest heaving as he wiped the back of his hand across his lips. “I know,” he whispered, his voice shaky. But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t move back. “I shouldn’t… but I…”
Katsuki looked at him, feeling the heat of the moment begin to settle into something quieter, something more dangerous. He could see the vulnerability in Izuku’s eyes, the uncertainty. And yet, he knew there was something between them that neither of them could deny.
Izuku leaned in again, slower this time, his forehead resting against Katsuki’s. “I don’t want this to just be some mistake, Kacchan.”
Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, and he didn’t know what to say, how to make sense of it. But when Izuku kissed him again, more gently this time, something inside him broke. They were standing on the edge of something neither of them could take back.
And for once, Katsuki didn’t care.
---
Notes:
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 4
Summary:
"remember when you said you'd let me win?"
Notes:
chapter 4 is here!
TW: Katsuki starts getting some thoughts about dekus body late at night.. wonder how that will turn out...
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The practice courts were quieter than usual. The buzz of the crowd and the chatter of teammates seemed to fade into the background as Katsuki stared across the net at Izuku. They weren’t alone—there were other players milling around, stretching, chatting, but Katsuki couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just the two of them in the world. The air between them felt thick, charged, as though every moment held the potential to snap.
Izuku’s eyes were focused, his usual intensity there, but there was something else beneath it. Something Katsuki couldn’t name. Was it what happened in the locker room that night? Every time their gazes met, Katsuki felt a spark of irritation flare up, but it was always followed by that gnawing thing in the back of his mind— something that wouldn’t let go.
“You gonna play or what Kacchan?” Izuku’s voice broke through the silence, and it took Katsuki a second to realize it was directed at him.
He shot back, quick as always. “Like you can even keep up, nerd.”
Izuku’s lips curled into that infuriating smile, the kind that made Katsuki want to knock it off his face, and yet, every time it showed up, it seemed to settle somewhere deep in his gut, confusing him. He gritted his teeth and tossed his racket in the air, catching it again.
They started the match without another word. Katsuki tried to keep his focus. He tried to channel all his anger, all his frustration, into the game. But as the ball flew back and forth, his eyes kept drifting to Izuku—his stance, the way he moved, the way he still hadn’t changed even after all this time.
There was something in the way they both played now, something different from when they first started. A sort of unspoken understanding, as if they were pushing each other more than they ever had before. Neither one of them wanted to lose, but neither of them could bring themselves to back down.
After the match ended, as usual, the rest of the players scattered, talking among themselves, going to the locker rooms. But Katsuki found himself lingering. He didn’t know why.
Izuku was wiping sweat from his forehead, shaking out his arms. He didn’t say anything at first, and Katsuki wasn’t sure if he should break the silence. The air felt heavy, dense with something neither of them could express.
Katsuki crossed his arms, refusing to look at Izuku directly. “You’re slower than usual,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended, but it was a safe thing to say, a thing that didn’t require any real vulnerability.
Izuku didn’t answer immediately. There was a slight pause, like he was weighing something in his mind. Finally, he let out a small, almost tired laugh. “Yeah, well, I guess you’re faster than you used to be.”
There it was again. That smile. That look. It made Katsuki’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t stand.
Without saying another word, Izuku turned and started to walk off toward the locker room. Katsuki stood there, watching him, feeling something stir inside of him. It wasn’t just anger this time, wasn’t just that constant need to prove himself better. It was something more, something deeper that he didn’t want to acknowledge.
He shook his head, trying to push it down.
---
A few days later, they were back in the same practice routine. Nothing had changed, and the tension from the previous locker room encounter has disappeared - or so it seemed. But whenever Izuku was around, the tension never quite went away. Katsuki had caught glimpses of him talking to Ochako in between drills, laughing like they shared some private joke that he wasn’t a part of. It made Katsuki’s fists clench, his teeth grit. Does he give her the same smile he once gave him in that locker room? Does she feel like her whole world stops and nothing else matters when Izuku looks at her? Katsuki doubted that.
He didn’t know what it was about Izuku that got under his skin. He hated the way his thoughts circled back to him. He hated the way Izuku made him feel. He hated his short green her. His emerald eyes. His soft freckles that splattered across his face. The way he swiftly moved around the court, the way the green haired boy made him feel. But at the same time, he couldn't stop looking at him.
One afternoon, after practice, the other players went home, leaving just the two of them alone on the courts. It was late, the kind of late where the shadows stretched longer and everything felt quieter, stiller.
Izuku was sitting on the edge of the court, tying his shoes, his back turned to Katsuki. It was just the two of them again, and Katsuki hated the silence between them, hated the way everything seemed to hang on the edge of being said but never quite getting there. A now common occurrence between the two.
Katsuki couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Why do you always look at me like that? As if you don't have her always lingering 'round you,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself. He hadn’t meant to say it. It just came out, raw and unfiltered. "God damn it Deku, why do you have to make all this shit so confusing?"
Izuku’s hand paused mid-knot. For a long moment, he didn’t respond, just sat there, tense, like he was trying to figure out what Katsuki had just said.
“Not this again - Fine. Kacchan, how do I look at you?” Izuku asked, his voice steady, but there was a faint hint of annoyance and anger in it, a hint of uncertainty.
Katsuki felt his anger spike, but it was different this time. It wasn’t directed at Izuku—it was directed at himself. “You look at me like - damn it - like I’m the one you should be—” He stopped himself, frustrated. He didn’t know what he was saying.
Izuku didn’t look at him right away. Instead, he continued tying his shoes, his face unreadable, but Katsuki could feel him pulling away, closing off in that way he always did. Katsuki clenched his fists at his sides, the familiar feeling of irritation burning his skin. He wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come out.
Finally, Izuku looked up, his eyes meeting Katsuki’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said quietly.
Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat. There it was again—that distance. That wall that Izuku put up when he didn’t want to let anyone in.
“Don’t play dumb, Deku,” Katsuki snapped. “You think I can’t tell? You don't even look at her like you look at m—” He paused, almost afraid of what he might say. The words seemed dangerous, like they might unravel everything if he said them aloud, like they could eat him alive. “It's like you want something else.”
Izuku didn’t say anything. The silence between them felt heavy, thick like fog, suffocating.
Katsuki turned away, his hand gripping his bag tighter than necessary. “Forget it,” he muttered, voice strained. “I don’t need to deal with your crap.”
He didn’t wait for Izuku to answer. He couldn’t wait anymore. He didn’t know what it was, but he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t keep pretending like things hadn’t changed. He turned for a slight moment to see if Deku had an remorse left in him, but the green haired boy just turned back to hitting the ball against the wall. No signs of reciprocation left.
---
That night, in the dim light of the hotel room, Katsuki lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He could still hear Izuku’s words echoing in his head, but the silence that followed them was worse than anything.
He hated it. He hated how it felt like something was shifting between them. But what made him angriest was the fact that he couldn’t figure out what that something was.
As he lay on his bed, restless, confused, his mind drifted from one image of Deku to another - as if a photo montage was playing in front of his eyes. He was still dressed in his sweaty tennis uniform. The fabric clung to his skin uncomfortably, but he barely noticed, too lost in thought. His mind kept drifting back to the intense moment that he shared earlier on the court and the way Deku had looked - flushed, breathless, eyes sparkling with a mix of determination that made Bakugou's cock twitch in his pants. A look that would make Bakugou lose his mind in just a few seconds back in middle school.
Even though he was utterly exhausted, he couldn't ignore the coiled up feeling that was forming in his shorts. He palmed himself through the thin black layer, a growing tent forming as he remembered the way Deku's ass had flexed in those tight white shorts with each step, the way his shirt had ridden up to reveal a sliver of pale skin at his waist. Bakugou groaned, hips rolling up into his hand. Shifting restlessly, Bakugou pushed a hand under his waistband, wrapping fingers around his hard, leaking cock. He stroked himself slowly, thumb swiping over the slit and smearing the pearly fluid around. His other hand slid under his shirt, mimicking movements that sort-of resembled what he thought Deku was capable of doing to him.
"Fuck... Deku..." Bakugou panted harshly, imagining Deku's naked body spread out beneath him, creamy thighs parted, begging to be filled. His hips bucked up into his fist eagerly as he increased his pace, chasing the pleasure he thought only Deku could give him. Panting harshly, Bakugou worked himself closer and closer to the edge. His balls tightened, stomach muscles quivering as he chased his release. With a guttural cry, he came hard, thick ropes of cum spurting over his abs and chest. He worked himself through it, hand wrapped tight to prolong the intense waves of pleasure until he was spent and boneless on the rumpled sheets.
In the aftermath, Bakugou felt hollow and restless. The orgasm was good, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough without Deku there with him. He needed Deku's warmth, his softness, the way he could submit so sweetly to Bakugou's dominance.
But Bakugou was terrified. Tennis was his life, his dream. What if getting involved with Deku distracted him? Made him lose focus? Ruined his chances of going pro? He'd worked so hard for this, sacrificed so much. A high school dream can't ruin his future life. A life of greatness awaited him in a few years - and with all the money and fame he will have, an identical version of Deku could be found easily throughout Japan. Or so Bakugou thought.
And yet the thought of pushing Deku away... well, it was what scared Bakugou the most. More than any loss on the court ever could. He didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he wanted Deku, needed him like air. And that terrified him more than anything. In the back of his mind he knew Deku would never chose him over Uraraka. She was the definition of a perfect girlfriend, exactly his type as well. The night of the match When Deku left the court with her, Bakugou knew he fucked up. He lost the only chance he even had with Deku, along with his dignity.
With a heavy sigh, Bakugou finally stripped off his sweaty clothes and headed for the shower, hoping the hot spray would ease the ache in his heart. But even as he stood under the pulsing water, he couldn't get Deku out of his head.
He remembered the way Deku's lips tasted, warm and sweet. The way he clutched the hem of his shirt, begging Bakugou to stay. Pulling him into a rough, passionate kiss, the one Bakugou had dreamed of every night. Was round cheeks always this lucky? She gets to experience Deku the way no one else dreams of - and she doesn't even realise that. She could do whatever to him - say his name how many times she wants to, bite down on his neck,
hold him,
touch him,
feel him.
Bakugou had never felt like this about anyone before. He'd had flings, one-night stands, but this...this was different. Deku got under his skin, into his blood, until Bakugou couldn't breathe without him. All the people who tried sleeping with him before all looked the same. Blurred into one person, an extra. He always searched for someone that could fill Deku's spot, but no one ever came close. Some were only there to get the money, some were only there to experience sleeping with a national sensation, a gifted star tennis player. Some were there to try and win over his heart - no attempt ever worked.
After the shower, Bakugou collapsed onto the bed naked, too tired and overwhelmed to even bother with pajamas. He stared up at the ceiling once again, arms crossed behind his head, and tried to think through the jumble of feelings in his chest.
Maybe he was being selfless, believing that one day Deku will like him. Abandon round cheeks just for him. That kiss meant nothing, and he knew that Deku also thought it was a grave mistake. He wouldn't abandon round cheeks for the whole world. Bakugou always knew that they liked each other, just never had the guts to say anything in hopes both of them would just grow out of it. But the thought of letting Deku go made Bakugou's heart ache in a way he'd never experienced before. He'd never been one for labels or commitment, but the idea of not having Deku in his life anymore...it made him feel colder and emptier inside - a void he thought only tennis could fix. And even then, in the only space he felt relaxed and himself, Deku always had to be there as well..
Maybe he was just confusing sex with real feelings. Maybe once he got Deku out of his system, he'd be able to focus again. Bakugou didn't know what to believe anymore. All he knew was that he wanted Deku more than he'd ever wanted anything or anyone in his life. And that terrified him more than any Grand Slam final ever could.
Notes:
Thanks for reading!