that single, taunting blue line on the screen of the pregnancy test. She /loathes/ it. It’s the eighth test in as six months. Every single one— beyond the one she took two months ago that gave her a false positive, giving her momentary hope only to snatch it cruelly away— has

come out negative. Negative, negative, negative. /Not/ pregnant, not even a little bit. It's frustrating and /painful/. She wants a baby, badly, and it's not /fair/ that the one thing her body was made to do won't happen to her. Isn't getting pregnant supposed to be /easy/?

Her own mother warned her /never/ to have pre-marital sex, because 'it only took once', and with all the ads promoting teen pregnancy and the use of condoms, it made it all seem so /easy/. A heat spent with her husband, locked in bed together, and a few weeks later she'd be

staring at two, positive lines. Except that's not what's happening at /all/. Two heats, sex a dozen times between heats-- Osamu is /oddly/ disinterested in sex for an Alpha, and rarely knots her outside of heats at all-- and still /nothing/. It's not /fair/. Sasaki has always

been /exceptional/. Excellent grades in school, perfect manners and attitude, always upholding the family honor. Never being disgraceful, and /always/ being a /presentable/ Omega. Except now she can't do this one /simple/ thing. Something that is intrinsic to her secondary

gender, and she can't do it, and she doesn't know /why/. Outside of the bathroom, there's the sound of the front door to the penthouse opening and closing. The brief jingle of keys, the slight scuffle of shoes being kicked off. "I'm home," Osamu calls into the house,voice flat.

He doesn't sound /excited/ to be home, but then again, he never does. She's pretty sure she's never seen that man excited about /anything/. Sighing in frustration, she tosses the negative test in the trash. She doesn't want to look at it anymore, doesn't want to be reminded of

how much of a failure her own biology is. She makes sure to wash her hands and clean up the tears lingering at the corner of her eyes before she leaves, heading into the main living room. Osamu is there, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over the side of the couch.

He's impeccably dressed, like he always is. Form-fitting shirt that hints at the /lovely/ muscle underneath, straining ever so slightly over his broad shoulders. Slacks that emphasize how trim his waist is, how long his legs are. A silver, expensive watch on his wrist, a tie clip

in a matching shade that keeps his sleek black tie in place. His hair is slicked back today, every strand perfectly in place, exposing his forehead. The bandages—the annoying things she hates but no amount of talking will convince him to get rid of— peek over the collar of his

his shirt and underneath the cuffs of the sleeves. Drawn in by the image he makes, casually and effortlessly attractive and /powerful/, wealth hidden in every line of his body, Sasaki comes closer. When he hears her approaching, Osamu’s head tilts, then turns to look at her.

There's only the slightest response to her presence, his face softening into a welcoming smile. It's the most she gets out of him, and based on how /stoic/ the man is, probably the most reactive he is to someone in general. Reaching for his tie, she tugs him down for a kiss on

the cheek. He smells like whiskey, and she abhors the taste on her tongue, so she refuses to kiss him properly until he's brushed his teeth and used the mouthwash. That's the only thing he smells of, though, except for the dull, almost-muddy smell of the scent blockers he

habitually wears. It's a scent she's /unfortunately/ used to--whiskey and cigars and scent blockers-- because she's never seen Osamu go /anywhere/ without his blockers. Not even in their own home. The only time she can /really/ smell him is the shower, and even then he turns

on the fan so all the steam is sucked away quickly. She wouldn’t have pegged Dazai as the type to be /insecure/ or embarrassed, especially considering how exemplary he is in every other aspect of his life— But she supposes everyone has their flaws. “How was work?” She

asks, straightening his tie again when he straightens back up. He’s so /tall/, it’s delicious. Shrugging slightly, he answers, “Alright. The new secretary mixed up my meetings, but other than that, everything went smoothly.” Sasaki scowls. That’s the /third/ time she’s heard

about this new secretary. Young, fresh out of college, an /Omega/, someone who clearly is looking to skip up the ranks by getting the attention of the higher ranking employees or bosses. Clearly, even negative attention is still /attention/, because /how/ can it be so hard to

keep one man’s schedule in line? Sure, Osamu is the CEO of Mori Corporations and thus a very busy man, but /still/. “That girl is /very/ unprofessional,” she sniffs, watching Osamu as he moves into the kitchen and reaches for the liquor cabinet. She’s been /trying/ to break that

habit he has. She doesn’t like the worn, exhausted look he gets in his eyes when he’s a drink or two in, shoulders bowing under the weight of his own body. An Alpha of his caliber— rich, powerful, /smart/, privileged— has no right looking so... Weak. Besides, she’s pretty

sure that drinking can cause /impotency/, and since she’s had no health issues to speak of, it shouldn’t be /her/ fault she can’t get pregnant. And if it’s not her fault, then there must be something wrong with /him/. “She’s only been with the company for two weeks, Nobuko.

She’ll learn,” Osamu says, pouring himself a large glass. He doesn’t put away the bottle when he’s done, a sign that he’s going to drink more. It’s the weekend, so Sasaki can excuse it. “That’s /exactly/ my point. Only two weeks, and didn’t she already file for heat leave?”

It’s /unprofessional/ to ask for time off so quickly after being hired. Sure, heats can’t exactly be controlled, but there are things like suppressants to push them back for a while. There’s even /teas/ that are said to regulate estrus cycles, so there’s no excuse. “Well, yes,

but she filed a week before company policy, so she did everything correctly. I can’t expect her to work through it or use suppressants just because she’s new. Heat leave is a company policy for a reason,” Osamu says into his drink, leaning back against the kitchen counter. She

stifles an aggravated sigh, not wanting to start an argument. Osamu is always /irritable/ when he gets off of work for the weekend, and she’s hoping to have a little /fun/ in bed later. After all, it doesn’t hurt to try again, right? “Did something happen?” Her husband asks,

setting down his cup so he can start to remove his cufflinks. It's a subtle, attractive action, the trappings of wealth being stripped away, undressing. "You seem... upset." That's one of the things Sasaki /adores/ at Osamu. He's always been /perceptive/ for an Alpha, never