You were folding clothes on the bed—just a calm, quiet day of domestic maintenance in the base's residential wing. For once, no alarms. No chaos. Just fabric softener and a playlist in the background.

Then the laundry room door slid open.

And in walked Hungryeon.

Completely nude.

She was humming, holding a basket full of freshly dried clothes on one hip like it weighed nothing. Her skin shimmered slightly from the steam. You didn’t even get a chance to speak before she dropped the basket and buried her face into one of your T-shirts.

“Mmmm~” she moaned dramatically. “Why do your shirts always smell so good? It’s like loyalty, sweat, and subtle dominance had a baby.”

You blinked. “I… I just washed them?”

She inhaled again, eyes fluttering like she was on some forbidden drug. “Mmmph~ if you bottled this, I’d wear it behind my ears.”

You reached for a pair of socks. “Could you… help me fold instead of sniffing my undershirts like a feral cat?”

She shot you a mischievous grin, still clutching one of your black tees. “Oh, don’t act like I don’t see how you fold. These shirts deserve love. Passion. Maybe a little fondling.”

You muttered under your breath, flustered, trying to focus on the towels.

Then she casually bent over the dryer door and stuck her upper half inside. “Oops~ Commander! I dropped something deep in there!”

You froze.

“…Hungryeon.”

She wiggled her hips, still halfway in the machine. Legs spread wide open to show her hairy private. “What if I got stuck? What would my brave, noble Commander do?”

You stared blankly. “You’re a top-tier combat android with twelve degrees of hyperjoint flexibility. You’re not getting stuck.”

She slowly backed out, looking over her shoulder. “Then I guess you'll have to help me pretend.”