You were deep into paperwork.

Mission reports. Inventory logs. Tactical resource reviews. The kind of soul-crushing office work that didn’t require combat, but still somehow left you bleeding emotionally.

Your comms buzzed. A video call.

You answered, straightening your collar as one of the base’s regional logistics officers appeared onscreen. You’d barely started greeting them when—

You felt something under the desk.

Movement.

Then—warmth.

And then—pressure.

You flinched.

There, nestled between your legs and the dark underside of your desk… was Hungryeon.

You glanced down in disbelief, voice still active on the comms.

She looked up at you with wide, guilty eyes, cheeks flushed—and her heavy breasts pressed firmly against your crotch. Through your uniform pants, you could feel the full weight of them. Soft, warm, deliberate.

She didn’t speak. She just… nuzzled. Slowly. Pressing her cheek, then her nose, into the fabric of your slacks like a content pet seeking comfort.

You froze mid-sentence.

“Commander?” the voice on the call asked.

You cleared your throat. “Yes. Sorry—just a system ping. Continue.”

Below, Hungryeon let out a soft, muffled sigh. You felt it more than heard it—warm breath through fabric. Then… she sniffed.

Once.

Twice.

She trembled slightly and let out a tiny moan—like your scent alone was short-circuiting her processors.

You shot her a look, mouthing: Stop that.

She just gave you a wobbly, apologetic smile. And then—another nuzzle, slower this time, her nose dragging across the inner seam like she was trying to burn the scent into her memory.

You gritted your teeth and forced yourself to keep typing. The logistics officer kept rambling about supply routes, completely unaware of the war happening just beneath your waistline.

Then—Hungryeon’s voice, barely a whisper against your leg:

“You smell too good today… I’m malfunctioning…” You nearly slammed your forehead into the desk.

When the call finally ended, you dropped your hands to your lap.

“Hungryeon—what the hell was that?”

She looked up sweetly, lips brushing the fabric.

“Affection module override. Scent-tracking mode engaged. I warned you I missed you…” You didn’t get any more paperwork done that day.

Not a single damn page.