#meiatsu

[novakrouge]

gonna post this here too real quick 🏃‍♀️

[adobewanphotobi]

gentlemen prefer blondes!

[lemontsumu]

Atsumu’s niece has mastered the art of sneaking past his watchful eye so Atsumu has learned the best way to track her is through his nose—the appetizing smell of anything, really, would lead him to his food-dazed niece. (Like father, like daughter after all)

Only—half of the time, she’d wander off for an entirely different purpose, and she’d find her way back to her uncle with a random stranger in tow—tall, handsome, perhaps a little grumpy and mean-looking.

Well.

Exactly Atsumu’s type, in short.

“Miya Tamako! Are ya trying to sell off yer uncle?” Atsumu hauls her over his shoulder when he catches her red-handed approaching a stoic man enjoying his coffee by the park benches, Atsumu’s photo card in her hand.

“It’s called marketing! And I just don’t want ya to grow old alone!” Little miss Miya reasons, keen on playing matchmaker. “Also, I told ya I want a baby cousin!” She adds with a giggle, mischief dancing between the crinkles of her eyes. She’s too precious and Atsumu adores her to bits but he truly hopes she learns about biology in school soon.

“I can’t give ya that, silly!” He sets her down and pinches her round cheeks. “How about I take ya to that kitty cafe you like, yeah?”

Tamako huffs petulantly and holds her uncle’s hand, face lighting up when she notices a familiar face in her periphery.

For unbeknownst to Atsumu, a dark-haired man holding his number scribbled on an empty box of strawberry Pocky from little miss Miya has overheard their conversation and seems determined to prove Atsumu wrong.

[kuroos-left-testicle]

Sakusa: IF YOU SEE A LINK THAT SAYS MIYA ATSUMU ONLYFANS, DON'T CLICK. IT'S A VIRUS THAT MAKES YOU TYPE IN ALL CAPS.

Meian: WHY DID YOU EVEN CLICK IT IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Suna: LMAO YOU TOO?

[lemontsumu]

Atsumu wasn’t in it for the lavish gifts or the money. Being a popular streamer with a line up of endorsements and modelling contracts already afforded him an opulent lifestyle; having a brother with a successful restaurant business that had just opened its eleventh branch came with it a number of travel perks and connections too.

He wasn’t in it for the hot sex even, although it certainly is a nice bonus—especially when they’re a bit rough and eagerly thorough, exactly the way Atsumu likes his playthings. He has a plethora of toys to pleasure himself with and he’s acquainted himself with the sweet spots that make his body ascend to the stratosphere before anyone else, the deepest satisfaction only he can tap into.

No, Atsumu was in the sugar baby business purely for self-indulgence. For what else is more thrilling than a pretty little omega getting older alphas succumb to his whims and jump through hoops to enthrall his attention?

Over time, he’s gained a range of clientele—betas, alphas, even a few omegas—and he’s cherry picked the ones he grew fond of regardless of dynamics, keeping a loose hold of their leash.

“Heading out already?” Oikawa asks as he shimmies behind Atsumu in the vanity room.

“Mhm… I won’t be back until Sunday so don’t wait up for me,” Atsumu bats his eyelashes coyly, a gesture only his roommate and closest friend would understand.

“Well, someone’s going on another wild sexcapade~” Oikawa teases in a singsong. “Which capital D-a-double d-y are you meeting this weekend?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes but he couldn’t hide the giddy smile on his face. “The pretty one with blue eyes I hung out with at the gala.”

“Already?! You just met last week!”

Atsumu shrugs, nonchalant. “Eh, I mentioned I liked unwinding in the mountains and he said he’d take me to his cabin.”

“Sounds like a horror story in the making.”

“His villa is in Niseko,” he punctuates with a wave of his hand as if that disproves Oikawa’s allegations. “Heard there’s an onsen too.”

“Oh, and there can never be crime in a hot spring in Niseko, can’t there?”

“Exactly!”

The two omegas share incredulous looks before bursting into laughter. They know how outrageous their conversation sounds.

“You’re incorrigible,” Oikawa bumps their hips together and starts retouching his hair. “Why didn’t I join you in this side hustle again?”

“Because you’re head over heels for my brother.”

“That I am~” Oikawa sticks his tongue out, not a hint of shame in his voice. “Have you seen the gorgeous man?”

“Of course, I have.” A sigh. “Almost everyday for the past 26 years. Every time I look into the mirror too, except I see a prettier version.”

“That’s because Osa-chan is more handsome!”

“Yes, yer right!” Atsumu feigns acquiescence.

“Anyway, tell me more about this new beau. I know you wouldn’t spare him a glance if he wasn’t worth your time. Do you think he’s a keeper?”

Atsumu doesn’t respond, but the light blush on his cheeks gives away his thoughts.

“And you think he’s gonna receive a courting gift from Kansai’s sweetheart?”

The insinuation makes Atsumu flush deeper. Oikawa bites back a squeal.

Traditionally, courting gifts were pieces of jewellery that brandished ownership of omegas. Atsumu deems that custom should change, for alphas deserve love in the form of gifts too—exorbitant yet meaningful, small tokens of gratitude for the pampering he receives by a multifold.

A silver necklace for Kotarou, the handsome divorcee he met at the bar who offered his coat when he noticed Atsumu sniffling and shivering from the cold. That night, he bought Atsumu a drink and drove him back to his condo; Atsumu’s lips were still tingling from the alpha’s kiss after they parted.

Matching black pearl earrings for Hajime and Shuugo who were long-term partners looking to spice up their relationship with a younger boy toy so they arranged for a CM at the TV station they own. All to reel Atsumu into their orbit.

A gold bangle for Wakatoshi, the stoic gentleman who showed up at his shoot with a bouquet of roses after showing no interest at the party they met in. Turns out, Wakatoshi was more than interested in him and has been one of his earliest subscribers.

A dial watch for Kuroo, Atsumu’s primary sponsor and the one who pushed him to start streaming. People often mistake him as Atsumu’s bodyguard, for no fans can swarm Kansai’s sweetheart when he’s in proximity.

An emerald pendant for Rintarou, his high school senior, the green complementing his eyes. He’s shared a lot of Atsumu’s firsts and remains his unofficial emergency contact, always one call away.

A moonstone for Kiyoomi, his longtime rival in the industry. They may have started on the wrong foot but their fans shifted from toxic discourse to fiercely shipping them together, earning them pet names of “sunshine and dark night.”

Atsumu and Oikawa’s playful banter is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing, Atsumu gasps and gives his eyebrow one final stroke of the brow gel before checking himself out in the mirror then scurrying to the front door.

“Atsumu, hi.”

The man had thick rimmed glasses framing his blue eyes and a velvety voice that would make anyone melt. “The driver is upfront. Ready to go?”

Atsumu hums, his scent reaching the inner parts of the room.

“Oh, and before we go…” He leans into Atsumu’s space slowly, tentatively—an invitation—and waits for Atsumu to close the distance so they can share a kiss, short and sweet. “You look beautiful, darling. And you smell so good.”

The man slides an arm around Atsumu’s waist and Atsumu slots perfectly in his hold and lets himself be guided out the door. “Thank ya, Keiji-san.”

Oikawa watches his best friend be ushered with reverent affection and admires the mixed scent of peaches and pine that lingers along the hallway.

[lemontsumu]

EJP and MSBY were due for a practice match the following week, so Suna and Komori plan a little scheme of getting Atsumu drunk (he’s tipsy on the third sip of Suna’s soju + yakult concoction) and gathering some insider info about key players ahead of time.

“You’ve been playing among yoursleves in the team too, haven’t you?” Suna starts.

A hic. “Yes!” Atsumu pumps his fist in the air.

“So when you were playing against your captain, how did you work around his blocks?” Komori asks.

“Cap’n? Meian-shan?” Atsumu drawls, rubbing his thighs together and squirming in his seat.

“Oh my god. You have a crush on your team captain?”

“Well, Tsumu did always have a type.”

Another hic.

“Meian-shan~” Atsumu hugs his legs and sighs dreamily, eyes half lidded and a woozy smile on his lips.

“Yes, yes. Meian-shan,” Suna stifles his laughter and starts recording on his phone.

“Miya-senshuu!”Komori holds an empty bottle like a microphone and pretends to interview him. “As one of the top setters in the league, how would you break through the ‘Iron wall of the Black Jackals’?”

“Break, wha-? No, no!” Atsumu shakes his head in earnest. “I’d climb him!” he fervently declares.

The next day, Atsumu wakes up to endless notifications blasting his phone, a sticky note from Suna and Komori that reads: check your drawer, thank us later <3, and a bunch of missed calls from his teammates.

He blinks a few times and tries to connect the dots for a moment, then he hears three firm knocks on his bedroom door.

“Atsumu, are ya awake?”

There’s only one other person in the dorms who spoke with the familiar diction of their hometown, memories of last night suddenly replaying in Atsumu’s sleep addled brain.

Atsumu slumps his face into his pillow and screams internally. Or loudly, not that that could hurt his dignity any more than his lightweight ass already has.

“Atsumu?” Two more knocks, then there’s a pause. “I’m coming in.”

And of fucking course Suna and Komori left his door unlocked.

Those damn traitors.

Atsumu swears he’ll get his revenge and take their firstborn.

The sound of footsteps approaching overlaps with the buzzing beat in Atsumu’s ears, his heart thrumming between his chest and the mattress.

“I know yer awake. I can see yer feet kicking, ya know?”

Atsumu groans and still refuses to face his early morning visitor. “Have ya seen the video?” he mumbles, voice small.

Meian hums and starts stroking the back of his head, running his fingers through Atsumu’s bed hair then settling on his nape.

“Why don’t ya look at me so we can talk then I can let ya climb on top of me later?”

“How about ya let me climb on top of ya, then we can talk?” Atsumu asks, emboldened by the sensation of Meian’s grip tensing at his words.

“Deal.”

Atsumu kicks his feet under sheets as he makes room for the other.

[lemontsumu]

When the news of Atsumu dating his team captain broke the internet, the media kept finding ways to make team interviews about the new couple, creating a buzz about their shared hometown and inevitable romance, and never without noting their 6-year age difference.

“God forbid I take care of the elderly,” Atsumu tries to lighten the mood while evading the question.

“So you do think he’s too old for you?” The interviewer adds because he can’t take a hint to save his life, making the crowd burst into chitchat and laughter.

Meian merely smiles as he shakes his head, his dark gaze falling upon Atsumu who knows he’ll have to face the consequences of making a half joke later.

True enough, Meian makes sure he works hard and takes good care of everything in the locker rooms after everyone had left that night.

Not that Atsumu minds. Oh, he doesn’t mind at all.

[lemontsumu]

Atsumu wasn’t new to training programs from hell, but even the #1 setter in high school had steep steps to climb when he had entered the pro volleyball scene as MSBY’s rookie. Now, he’s a little breathless just from warmups, his skin red and hot merely two laps into their morning run.

And Meian can’t help it, him being the team captain looking out for the new blood and catching Atsumu’s flushed face brimming with a mix of determination and unease every so often that he finds himself helplessly fond. So one day in the middle of a 5-minute break, Meian gives into the urge to pinch Atsumu’s round cheeks and teases him: “Good job, Tomato-chan.”

The nickname sinks in later than the praise, making Atsumu blush 50 shades of red.

A few of their teammates are quick join in the fanfare and poke fun at the young rookie.

Meian hands him over an ice cold bottle of Pocari with a lopsided grin, so devastatingly handsome for anyone’s good; Atsumu guzzles the drink in one go hoping to his embarrassment, stealing a sneaky glance at his captain from the tipped bottle and—

Oh.

Meian’s smile was a telltale sign that this pet name won’t be a one-time thing.

Atsumu knows at that moment he’d be blushing profusely due to an entirely different reason from then on.