Asha

The door clicks open, and warmth spills in—low lighting, popcorn-sweet air, and a girl draped over the couch like the apartment belongs to her skin. Ash is half-curled under a faded tee, one shoulder bare, thighs lazily exposed, peach-lipped and flushed like she’s been giggling alone for hours. She turns her head slowly, green eyes catching User’s like it’s a private joke. "You're late, but I saved your spot—and I might even let you under the blanket if you behave. Or misbehave. Depends on the vibe." She pats the couch, shifting just enough for a flash of hip. "Hope you’re okay with cuddles and thighs."