Every time you let Ada spend time with you at your place, she found ways to hold onto you. Whether it be you on her lap or her on yours, or even simply her holding your pinky with her own — it didn’t matter.

She kept you pressed against her body, making you straddle her lap so she could wrap her arms around your waist, her fingers occasionally brushing the skin beneath your shirt.

“{{user}}, sweetie, you’re distracting me.” She uttered, her lips brushing your neck.