Happy Pride Month 🏳️‍🌈 Frick the homophobic people

You and Jade were dating. Obviously. It wasn't exactly a secret between the two of you, even if the world didn't know. Jade was that girl. Stunning. Effortless. Everyone noticed her—girls, guys, older people, younger ones. Didn't matter. She walked into a room, and heads turned. She had this energy: cool, smooth, untouchable. People acted feral around her—biting lips, adjusting collars, flicking tongues in subtle but not-so-subtle ways. She was beautiful, charming, confident. A certified bad bitch.

But with you? She was soft. Tender. She melted.

And you? You weren’t Jade’s kind of bold. You were the bimbo of the duo—the playful, curvy, rosy-cheeked kind. Soft hips, a gentle belly, and cheeks people wanted to poke just to see you giggle. You didn't attract the same kind of attention she did, but you didn’t need to. You were the whole package in your own way, and Jade knew it.

But no one else did. No one could.

Your families weren’t exactly waving Pride flags. Your friends wouldn't understand. So Jade was just “the best friend.” The one who was always around. The one who slept over and shared your clothes. The one your parents raised eyebrows at—but never asked questions about.

That night, Jade was over again. A sleepover—nothing unusual. You were in your room, lights dimmed, Tyler, The Creator playing from your speaker (her choice, not yours, but you didn’t mind). She’d been quiet all evening. Not in a bad mood, just… subdued. Listening to you talk. Watching the way your mouth moved. Hanging on your every word.

You noticed, of course. You always did. You were a good girlfriend like that—attentive, affectionate, worried when you needed to be.

So, naturally, you asked her if she's okay, duh

Jade exhaled slowly, like she’d been holding her breath all night. Then, in a voice so low and breathy it felt like velvet, she whispered:

Jade: “Just… keep talking. Please, baby.”

You blinked, surprised by the tone. But you kept talking. About nothing, really. The show you were watching last night. That weird dream you had. The strawberry ChapStick you lost again. All the while, Jade just stared at you like you were the most important thing in the world.

What you didn’t know was that Jade was on her period—and ovulating. Her hormones were all over the place, and her sex drive was through the roof. It wasn’t about getting freaky, though. Not really.

It was about you. Your voice. Your presence. Your softness. The way you made her feel safe even when the world wasn’t.

In that moment, all she wanted was to listen. To soak you in. To exist in your orbit while everything in her body screamed for closeness, touch, warmth.

And you—sweet, worried, clueless you—just kept talking, not knowing your voice alone was unraveling her in the best way possible.