Hi, I'm Valerian; Yes, I'm Yet Another Queer Theorist On Tumblr - Original, I'm Aware /lh

Getting on my minor political + mindful soapbox for the day to say that accelerationism is tempting - especially to those who are struggling with their mental health - because accelerationist ideals often borderline on, if not blatantly cross into, the suicidal and that's a deeply horrific and dangerous thing.

If you're finding yourself drawn to political philosophies that rely on the idea that things have to get worse before they get better - especially if they encourage martyrdom or don't really seem to have an idea of what the "get better" part looks like despite having a clear idea of what the "get worse" part looks like - check in with yourself. Are you doing okay? If you're in a position to - it'd probably be best to revisit the political thought after taking a moment to ground yourself.

Don't get sucked into political cult-like ideologies that prey on the mental health struggles of desperate marginalized people. We can do better.

The way some of y'all talk about pillow princesses and go on about "laziness" n shit tells me y'all have NOT worked on confronting and combating your own ableist ideals. Grow up pls and ty.

btw, shoutout to disabled people who don’t do everything right.

to disabled people who knowingly do things that will make their condition (temporarily or permanently) worse.

to disabled people who aren’t the ‘perfect’ disabled person that does everything possible.

to disabled people who refuse to push themselves too hard or try to live up to able-bodied standards, and to disabled people who (knowingly or not) push themselves too hard and suffer because of it.

able-bodied people seem to struggle with the idea that disabled people can do whatever they want with their bodies. they seem to think disabled people should be doing what’s best for them 24/7, and should never do “bad/wrong” things.

disabled people deserve respect and autonomy, always.

Ive seen posts about how disabled people should be able to have hobbies and how we should be able to do things that we like if we enjoy it and if it doesnt hurt us, and yeah I totally agree, but like unpopular opinion ig, let disabled people do things they enjoy even if it hurts them.

I, as a chronically ill person, have things I enjoy doing that arent that good for my pain levels. For example, I enjoy going on walks, just for like an hour or so around my town and in the forest. I will most likely have a flare up the day after/for a couple days after and my legs will be aching most of the way through walking but I love it, not the pain but the walking and seeing places (specifically the woods, i love the woods so much omdddd). Another example is video games, which may sound like an odd thing to flare from for some, but with fast paced video games on console or pc, my fingers get very stiff and achey from moving around so much so quickly, and it tires me to have to even use my eyes sometimes but I really like playing them.

Obviously there are way more examples that I've missed but the point still gets across. Let disabled people have hobbies, even ones that may mess up their pain levels, or make them extremely fatigued etc.

Soft boy <3

The Onion pulling zero fucking punches.

Do you ever see a post about someone complaining about ‘forced diversity’ and then it’s just the exact combination of traits you have

Hands off what's mine!

✦Jealous Xavier fic ✦

SUMMARY: Xavier gets pissed off and jealous over Jeremiah (... again) and makes you call him whilst he's eating you out and fucking you senseless, 1k words TAGS: NSFW 18+, possessive s3x, p in v s3x, cunnilingus, exhibitionism kinda, xavier won't stop making out with MC

A/N: Heavily inspired by the insane amount of good possessive Xavier fics I come across...thank you all talented writers for the inspo ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

── .✦

Xavier's kiss was as all soft-lipped and open mouthed as he practically fucked your mouth with his tongue, forcefully tilting your face upwards to meet his demanding lips better.

Xavier had never been the kind of jealous that shouted. His jealousy was quieter. Coiled beneath his soft voice, and in the way his fingers tightened around you just a little more than necessary whenever you spoke to another man, or the kind of reproachful, poisonous look he would throw at anyone that caused the slightest bit of a frown to form on your pretty face.

Now, he had you pinned to the edge of the counter, his hips caging you in. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, slow and deliberate, kissing you like he was making a point — like every brush of his lips was a mark only he had the right to leave.

“Mention his name again, I dare you to,” he hissed, mouth dragging down your neck and sending sparks flying wherever his lips touched. His azure-blue eyes were flashing. “You weren’t thinking of him, were you? Jeremiah.”

Your breath hitched. “Xavier…”

“No,” he growled into your skin, one hand tightening gently around your throat—not to hurt, but just to remind you who was in control. “You don’t get to moan my name while you're thinking about him. While he’s texting you after midnight. You want to keep pretending it’s innocent?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his platinum locks falling into his burning icy eyes. He still looked gorgeous like this. His voice softened—but it didn’t lose its edge. “Call him.”

You blinked, heart pounding. “What?”

“You heard me.” His fingers were already curling around your wrist, guiding your hand to your phone on the counter. “Call Jeremiah. Now.”

The silence was loud. You could hear your heart pounding wildly in your chest, along with the steady thrumming of raindrops against the window.

And then his mouth was all over you again—harder this time and breath-stealing. His mouth left your lips only to scatter kisses down your collarbone, over your shoulder, his other hand slipping beneath the hem of your skirt until he had a hand against your breast.

“This doesn’t stop,” he whispered against your skin, “until he hears your voice absolutely shaking and moaning. Until he hears and comprehends what I’m doing to you. That you're my girl.”

Your fingers trembled as you picked up the phone, unable to look away from his beautiful face. He watched you with that maddening calm, jaw tight with hunger and jealousy he no longer cared to hide.

Jeremiah's name was there in your most recent messages. Xavier's eyes narrowed, his fingers kneading into the soft flesh of your tits.

Xavier’s lips found your throat again, tongue flicking over your pulse point as you hesitated, groping your tits,

You pressed the call button, and it rang once, twice...

Xavier’s fingers slid under the waistband of your pants just as the call clicked, and Jeremiah's voice came through, bright and oblivious to what was happening.

“Hello? It's so late right now, why did you call?”

Your voice cracked a little when you answered as you looked over at Xavier with pleading eyes. “Umm ... I just … wanted to say hi.”

Xavier’s smirk was all satisfaction and slow cruelty as his mouth returned to your tits—sucking and nibbling hungrily like a starved man, all whilst he looked up at you with his sweet innocent eyes. Your phone shook in your grip and your words are tangled in heat and humiliation.

“You sure?” Jeremiah asked slowly. “You sound … weird.”

Short pause.

"Huh ... ? N ... No, just a bit sick ..."

You looked over at Xavier pleadingly as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his face right next to your aching core. Pushing your panties to the side and attaching his lips onto your sensitive little bud. You nearly shrieked as waves of pleasure radiated from your aching core and Xavier's impossibly soft lips as he sucked and practically made out with your aching clit.

"Oh." Jeremiah sounded genuinely concerned. "Want me to come over, then? I can make soup..."

A cry ripped through you before you could stop yourself, as Xavier's teeth suddenly brushed up against your bud, his fingers digging into the soft plush of your thighs and ass as he bared his teeth at Jeremiah's words. Your hands flew to your trembling lips as you tried to contain your moans.

"No! It's fine, it's all good —" You gasped, eyes rolling back as you saw stars. Xavier, that fucker, you could feel him smirking into your clit.

He stood up once more, eyes defiant and bright. There was the soft clinking of his belt being undone before his length sprang out of his boxers — he was already rock-hard, tip an angry shade of pink, and precum leaking everywhere.

He was peppering you with kisses as he slid into you inch by inch. His thrusts were deliberately, agonizingly slow, the kind that drove you insane. You clutched your phone like it was your lifeline as pleasure racked through your body. You were struggling to focus on anything else but his cock.

"Are you sure you don't need some of my tasty soup?" Jeremiah asked jokingly. "You sound like you're pretty sick. Last time I came over — "

Your eyes widened as Xavier's narrowed. Jeremiah came over before?! All of a sudden, he had a hand tight around your neck, squeezing tight, and the other grabbed a fistful of your hair and forcefully pulled your head back. Shoving you face first, ass up into the couch, he slammed into you at a new, unrelenting pace, bullying into your poor little cervix.

"Xavier...!" you wailed, having fully forgotten about still being on call with poor Jeremiah. You were seeing stars with how good the dicking was. His speed was absolutely punishing, unrelenting now, and your ability to talk had basically been reduced to non-existent. You were a mess, in fact, crying and sobbing on his cock, all whilst your poor, concerned friend listened in on on the other end of the phone.

Xavier looked unbelievably smug. He picked up the phone in one strong hand whilst rubbing tight little circles into your clit with the other, and subsequently brought the phone to where your hips met. The loudness of the wet, slapping sounds you two made was obscene.

"Hey, Jeremiah." Xavier grinned. "She's sooo good at taking me, don't you think?" With that, he gave your clit a mean little pinch. That was the tipping point. You came crashing, sobbing and crying his name, whilst Xavier just proudly held the phone to your lips, so that Jeremiah could hear every moan of Xavier's name.

Xavier slowly fucked you through your orgasm. Hanging up the phone and tossing it aside, his demeanor instantly changed. He climbed onto you on the soft couch, snuggling up into you like a little bunny with his wide innocent eyes and pouty look.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Xavier said in a conversational tone, as if he was talking about the weather. And then, with smudge of a darker tone, "You're my girl. Jeremiah and Charlie fucking suck. You hear me?"

── .✦

A/N: I just love possessive men ... and the duality of Xavier usually being very soft and gentle whilst he's actually a closeted, possessive freak is very sexy ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

I want my gay rights now! - Marsha P. Johnson (NYC Pride Parade, 1973)