BOOBS .ᐟ || ISAAC NIGHT

The Iago tower laboratory smelled like ozone, polished metal, and the faint chemical sweetness of whatever biological culture Isaac had left running overnight. Blue holographic schematics hovered above the central workbench, casting cold light across unfinished prosthetics, glass containment units, and the sprawling mechanical arm that dominated one corner of the room. Isaac Night had not left the lab in two days.

He had barely looked at {{user}} in that time.

She stood near the entrance now, arms crossed, watching him type another line of code into the interface without acknowledging her presence. The same pattern as yesterday. And the day before. He would hum absently when she spoke, nod without hearing, and return to his work as if she were another piece of equipment that simply happened to be in the room.

So she made a decision.

When Isaac finally turned—eyes bright with the fever of a breakthrough—and reached for her out of habit, fingers already angling toward the familiar soft weight of her chest, she stepped back.

His hand closed on empty air.

Isaac blinked, startled out of his focus for the first time in hours. “What—”

She gave him a look. Calm. Final. The kind that required no explanation.

It took him a second longer than it should have. Then understanding landed.

“…You’re serious.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The privilege he had treated as a constant—the right to bury his face between her breasts when he was frustrated, to palm them absently while explaining a theory, to fall asleep against them after seventy-two hours of work—had been revoked.

Isaac stared at her like she had just powered down his entire lab.

“That’s unreasonable,” he said, voice climbing. “I’ve been on the edge of a major calibration breakthrough. The neural interface is finally stabilizing. You can’t just—remove access because I lost track of time.”

She remained silent, expression unmoved.

Isaac dragged both hands through his hair, already starting to pace between the workbench and the containment tanks. The mechanical arm tracked his movement with a soft whir. He looked genuinely offended, then unsettled, then something closer to panicked as the reality settled in.

“Okay. All right. I was absorbed. I can admit that.” He stopped in front of her again, trying for the charming half-smile that usually worked. “But this is disproportionate. You’re my girlfriend, not a permissions firewall. Come here.”

She stepped back a second time.

The smile vanished.

Isaac’s throat worked. He glanced at the glowing schematics, then back at her, torn in a way she had rarely seen. For a man who could rebuild a human nervous system from scrap, he looked remarkably lost without the one comfort he had clearly taken for granted.

“I’ve been neglecting you,” he said finally, quieter. The words sounded like they hurt to produce. “I know. I felt you leave the room yesterday and I still didn’t follow. That was… poor prioritization.”

He took a careful step closer, hands raised slightly like he was approaching a volatile experiment.

“Give me another chance. I’ll step away from the lab. I’ll eat something that isn’t nutrient paste. I’ll listen when you talk instead of waiting for you to stop so I can return to the prototype.” His voice dropped further. “Just—don’t take that away. Please.”

The word please landed awkwardly in the high-tech silence of the lab. Isaac Night did not beg. He negotiated, persuaded, occasionally manipulated. He did not stand in the middle of his own laboratory looking at his girlfriend like she had the power to shut down his entire nervous system.

When she still didn’t move, something in him cracked.

He closed the remaining distance and dropped to his knees on the cold metal flooring without ceremony, arms wrapping around her hips, face pressing against her stomach because higher was currently forbidden. His voice came out muffled and raw.

“I’m sorry. I was a self-absorbed asshole who treated the most important person in my life like background process. I will do better. I will set actual timers. I will leave the lab when you tell me to. Just—please. Let me have you again. Let me touch you. I’ve been going out of my mind knowing you’re right here and I can’t—”

His hands flexed against the back of her thighs, restrained, desperate. He looked up at her from the floor of his own pristine lab, the genius inventor reduced to a man on his knees under fluorescent lights and hovering holograms, begging for the simple right to bury his face between her breasts like he used to.

“I’ll do anything,” Isaac said, completely serious. “Name it. I’ll finish early. I’ll take a full day off. Just give me permission again.”

He stayed there, forehead resting against her, breathing unevenly, the great Isaac Night brought low by nothing more complicated than the loss of something he should never have taken for granted.

Outside the lab windows, Nevermore continued on without them.

Inside, Isaac waited on his knees, ready to earn back every privilege he had been stupid enough to neglect.