#how to resolve deleted

[digitaltechdev]

Why Your Deleted Proxmox Cluster Node Won’t Disappear – and How to Resolve It

Building a Proxmox cluster is probably one of the things you will want to accomplish if you are studying Proxmox and utilizing it in your home lab environment. By doing this, you can guarantee high availability for your containers and virtual machines. It can be necessary to How to Resolve Deleted Cluster Node Still Showing in Proxmox settings while constructing clusters. You could wish to minimize noise, take up less space, or address electricity concerns when operating a home lab. This article will examine the procedures, including commands, involved in removing a node from the Proxmox cluster manager.

[nenoname]

stan twins the canon cptsd brothers i will always think about all your unaddressed issues that would make perfect plot fuel for your spinoff

and also the whole 'stan getting that poem by bill via a website which contrasts with bill getting one from the axolotl via a website' foreshadowing thing

like idk i would love something like su future but like more optimistic, aka not an accumulated breakdown that has to be mostly resolved off screen at the end :/// but something thats being kinda addressed throughout? (although would love to see one of them turn into a monster thats always fun lol)

stan having severe issues from his dad and those years of being homeless that we keep on getting more info on but never really getting confronted on (the drifter catalogue and tijuana incident...), him being completely alone for like twenty years when running the shack before soos comes along to the point that 1998 is noted as his low point, and him not really learning about bill+what he did to ford until ages after he killed him if he ever did get the full context

while i think amnesia and everyone seeing him as a hero actually helped with stan's 'i'm a worse version of my brother' thing its still a lingering issue too and we now got him being insecure over his own hands

ford being immediately thrown from 'being tortured by bill' to 'being stuck in the multiverse and being chased by bounty hunters constantly', him fully expecting himself to die when destroying bill, and him only now being safe for the first time in 30 years ....relatively safe, he's still in constant danger because of course he is

idk in the end the series wants them to be happy and they deserve it, its why i wasn't too worried about the book being like 'ooh bill is back!! and the book is haunting ford' thing cos i knew they'll be ok

[akqrus]

Guys I love ragbros sm...

[andtheyreonfire]

i got a bitch who i think is actively trying to fuck with me and my emotions, despite acting friendly otherwise. the problem is i need 7 very important things from her. she is also currently in another state. sages of tumblr do you have any advice

[starryalpacasstuff]

Last Twilight; Mee's legacy continues

I know that we're all mad at how episode 11 went. Believe me, I am too. I'm not going to be talking about the issues in the episode, several others have already done so, and far more eloquently than I could. Because despite the episode's failings, there are still some things about this episode that I think deserve to be talked about.

I've loved keeping up with Mee's story as the show has progressed (written about it here and here). I thought that Mee's story ended in episode 9, but it continues to be present in the narrative. The most obvious clue to this is, obviously, Porjai's daughter, whom they named Mee. In addition to that, episode 11 focuses on highlighting the fact that Day 's blindness is not something that can be cured, just as Mee could never return to her life before she was cursed. Just as Mee had hoped that the last twilight would allow her to return to her normal life, Day hoped, even fully believed that the surgery would allow him to become "normal" again (the medical inaccuracies of the process aside). In the end, neither can return to a sense of "normalcy", as Mee turns to stone and Day's surgery fails. Both stories are haunted by a sense of grief, helplessness, and hope that is given and taken away. But the end of Mee's story isn't written as tragic, it's written as joyful. The exact same ending could have been written as tragic and solemn, but it wasn't. In the end, Mee was able to revel in the fact that she would never turn invisible again, despite turning to stone. And that's what I'm hoping that Day's final arc will resemble. Because we know that Day is still insecure about his blindness, and about people's pity for him. His buying that cane was a massive step in the right direction, because it showed that he was willing to "announce to everyone that he's blind", to be less afraid. But, as the breakup showed us, he's still insecure about his blindness. If the theory is right, episode 12 should show us Day accepting his blindness, and maybe even celebrate it as a part of him, as Mee does.

Mee's story has run parallel to Day's since they began to read it. Mee's story is over now, but Day's isn't. We see that Mee continues to have a presence in Day's life, be it metaphorically, through her story predicting his, or literally, through Porjai's daughter. Besides fixing a lot of the damage that was done in episode 11, if there's one thing I'd like from episode 12, it's one final call back to Mee's story.

[pnsge]

never beating the developing crushes on friends allegations part 2: return of jafaar

[smeg-and-the-red]

doing the red dwarf linocuts is really fun but there is now just a growing pile of linocut stamps I have only used once on my desk

[alex-unjust-vibing]

wait you have parents? Isn't it just, Idk the two gods? one of them is only your mother only some of the time and the other is never ur mother??? but also, not your parents I didn't think?

[He hates thinking about his parents. His stupid, no good, tranphobic parents that- ...Does he have parents? This ask brings up a good point...

...

...His head hurts. Deleted.]

[235uranium]

royal was so fucking funny coming out of vanilla as an akeshu shipper. hey yknow that enemies to lovers ship that mostly relied on one off comments and spin off material to substantiate? yeah we've decided the new villain ships it. he's writing fanfic about them. he's actually kinda right but it's still really fucked up

[officegoo]

.

[flionp]

mm yes I do not like it here, I've been once again reminded of that

[ame-to-ame]

love being nd and have the tism wolf Inside me be so drastically uncomfortable with uncertainty that i physically cannot think about school and having to deal w the unknown of that whole situation without losing 5lbs in 2 days

[whatsverstappeningnow]

how f1 drivers react

to you breaking up with them because you think you are distracting them from their career (requested) -> part two: getting back together

drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63

max verstappen

Weeks of contemplation hadn’t made this any easier. You still didn’t really know what to say, how to say it. But you knew what needed to be done. Every second you’re together is time taken away from his work. Hours wasted.

You don’t even get the words out all the way, just the beginning of a sentence, something about how maybe this isn’t fair to him, he’s distracted. He’s making mistakes he never used to make.

Max stills like you’ve poured ice cold water over him. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, eerie still.

“What are you saying?”

You keep your eyes on the floor. Meeting his gaze would hurt too much. You don’t have the strength to do it. “We need to break up.”

It’s quiet. So deathly quiet you think you can hear every thought whirl through his head at a million miles an hour. Your heart pounds heavy in your chest.

“You don’t mean it. Stop.” His voice is small, restrained.

“I do. We’re done. This is for you Max… you’re better off with me gone. I’m in the way.” You voice cracks and wavers as you speak, but you refuse to back down. You know you’re right.

Max lets out a sharp breath through his nose, like he’s trying not to raise his voice.

“You think I’d be better off?” His voice cracks on the last two words, his arms crossing like he can’t figure out what to do with us hands. “You think my life gets easier if you disappear? What the fuck?”

You start to explain, something about pressure, the pressure on him, his career, about not wanting to be the thing that takes his focus. About not being able to stand yourself if you were the reason he failed.

“Jesus, you think I don’t know pressure? You think I give a fuck about all this shit if the choice is it or you? You can’t decide for me that I can’t take it. You can’t decide that for us! For fucks sake!”

You flinch. His words hurt like a knife to the heart. His hands are in his hair, rubbing his face and then settling back into crossed arms, his chest rising and falling too fast. Then he stops.

He’s still so suddenly it makes your heart drop. He just looks… tired. The kind of tired that goes bone deep and settles in your soul. He looks up at you and you see the look in his eyes, he knows he’s already lost you.

If he won’t do this for himself, you will. You love him too much to let him fail.

“If you leave… don’t pretend it’s for me. Don’t. Just go.”

Leaving feels like giving up, but you don’t let yourself turn back. A flurry of texts erupt from your phone as you drive away from his house, a call rings. You let it go to voicemail and delete it without listening.

This is for the best.

lando norris

“No, nope, not happening.”

He’s pacing the room, a nervous energy filling his body and seemingly preventing him from sitting still for ever a second. His hands fidget, fighting for something to do. Ever since you told him you needed to break up, he has simply stopped listening. Nothing you were saying was getting through to him.

He refused to understand.

“Lando, please just listen—”

“I am listening. And you’re talking bullshit.”

You sigh slightly and look down, you’ve been fighting of tears all morning just thinking about having to have this discussion, but you can’t let yourself cry now. But still, they well in your eyes and threaten to fail your resolve. He softens instantly, moving toward you.

“I’m sorry, I just—” He looks desperate, eyes wide and searching your expression for any sign of hope. A sign that he can turn this around. Save what you have. “You can’t drop something like that out of no where and expect me to be okay with it. I don’t want you to leave. You don’t distract me.”

“You say that now—”

“I say that because it’s true. You ground me. You make me feel normal. You give me someone to come home to no matter if I’m P20 or P1. You make me feel like more than my fucking result. And if you walk away, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing any of this for. Cause I’m not sure who I am without you around!”

His hands reach out and grip yours, his hold tight and firm but not painful. Just constant pressure. Like he’s afraid if he lets go you will disappear. You might.

“You’re not leaving. You wanna talk about this? Fine. But you don’t get to pick up and leave me out of no where. You owe me more than that.”

“You need this. Trust me.”

“I need you!”

Finally, a tear falls down your cheek. You don’t brush it away. As it plummets to the ground, Lando knows something has shifted that can’t be undone. He’s lost you.

oscar piastri

Oscar doesn’t say anything at first. His face is straight, mouth in a tight line, but his eyes hold within them all that he feels. He just stares at you like he’s trying to figure out if this is a test. Or, maybe, an elaborate prank. He hopes it is.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you lose focus. You’re so close to everything you’ve worked for.”

He finally exhales and looks away. “You think I made it this far alone?” he asks quietly, voice slow and careful.

You blink. “Oscar—”

“I didn’t. You were there. Every night I was doubting myself, worrying, thinking I wasn’t going to make it, you reminded me who I was.”

He pauses. Swallows hard. You take the chance to interrupt, to justify yourself.

“Things change. You needed that then. You need me gone now. You just can’t see it.” You plead with him, desperate for him to understand; this wasn’t because of any loss of love or heartbreak. You were doing this because you loved him too much to stand in his way.

“You think taking yourself out of the picture is going to help me? You keep me going.”

You say nothing, because anything you say will only make it worse.

So he nods, just once. Hurting. Resigned. He turns his head and stares out the window, his eyes glazed over with unshed tears.

“I don’t want this,” he says, unable to look you in the eye.

“I know.”

“You don’t either.”

“I know.”

“So don’t leave,” he pleads, but it’s too late. You had made your mind up days ago. If this is what it takes for him to reach his dreams, you’d glad to clap from the sidelines. Even if in your heart you would always be applauding in the front row.

carlos sainz

Carlos is quiet for a long time after you say it, the five fatal words. Long enough that the pit, already deep in your stomach, starts to feel like it’s going to cave in on itself. The silence is more painful than any screaming would be.

“I don’t understand. You think I’d give up what we have… because I had a couple of bad races?”

Your eyes sting, you try to hold your ground. But the sheer confusion in his voice makes you want to turn and run.

“It’s not just that. I can feel it, Carlos. You’re distracted. You need to be focused. And I… I can’t be in the way. I won’t let myself do that to you.”

He steps toward you, voice calm but firm and hands reaching out to grasp yours. You shouldn’t, but you let him. The warmth of his hands in yours grounds you.

“Hey, don’t say that. You’ve never been in the way.” He says it with such certainty, such conviction, you almost believe him. Almost.

“I don’t love you because it’s convenient. I don’t just love you when times are easy, mi vida. I love you because when the world’s spinning, you’re the only constant. You ground me.” He exhales shakily. “Don’t take that away from me. Don’t take you away from me.”

You press your lips together to keep them from trembling, and Carlos finally lets the emotion crack through his voice.

“If I crash and burn, I want you in the pit watching. If I win, I want you there too. But I want you. That’s never changed.”

“Then maybe I’ve changed. It’s me, Carlos. Not you.”

“No, no. Cariño, no.”

“We can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry.”

“Doing what? Loving either? You want to give this all up because, what, I am not performing well?”

“No, Carlos, it’s not that…”

He’s quiet then. He can’t understand , and you can barely explain. You know what you have to do. Even if it hurts.

“Please, I have to go.”

You don’t think you’ll ever forget ever forget the look of pure desperation in his eyes as you walked out of his house for the last time, carrying with you the weight of all the could have been, that now never will again.

alex albon

The colour drains from Alex’s face the second you tell him. The spark in his eye, the pure joy he radiates that you’d learnt to associate with him, and him alone, suddenly disappears. His whole body just stops.

“No—no, no, come on,” Alex says, voice panicked. “You don’t mean this.”

“I do,” you whisper. “You’re distracted, Alex. Every time you chose me over work, I know what you’re giving up. You’re so close to proving yourself again, and I don’t want to be the reason you miss this opportunity. I won’t be.

His mouth opens like he wants to argue, but he closes it again. His eyebrows furrow and his head dips. For a moment his hands twitches forward, but, like he suddenly thinks better of it, it stays in his lap.

“You’re not the reason for any of that. But you are the reason I get out of bed some days.”

You look away. It’s too much. “Alex…”

“No, c’mon. You want to know what you’re really responsible for? It’s not my failures. It’s not my losses. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not enough. I’ve lived that for years. And then you showed up and made me believe I was more than all of that.”

His hands wave in the air as he speaks, but you can only stare at his eyes. The beautiful eyes that look so heartbroken, so afraid. He swallows hard

“You really think you could make me believe all that, and be standing in the way of my success?”

He doesn’t stop you if you walk away. Just stands there like he’s still waiting for you to come back, hoping you’ll wake up from the sleep of insecurity you’re deep in and turn back around to him. You don’t.

Walking away takes a kind of strength you didn’t know you had.

charles leclerc

“No.”

It’s immediate, institutional. He says it the second the word breakup leaves your lips. Whatever he was going before is immediately forgotten, he’s turned to you dead on like a challenge.

You try to keep your voice calm. “Charles, I just… I’m not good for you right now. I’m distracting you. You need something that I’m not.”

He laughs bitterly, eyes glossy with disbelief. One hand rest on his hip, the other rubs his eyes. He’s the picture of confusion and shock. It hurts to have caught him so unaware, just yesterday he was talking about holidays and date nights. In one sentence you’ve sent it all crashing to the ground.

“So, what? You think you’re the reason I haven’t won a championship yet?”

“Of course not—”

“Then stop trying to erase yourself like you’re some burden I didn’t ask for. If I didn’t want to be here, if I didn’t think what we had was special, I wouldn’t be.”

He steps closer, but doesn’t touch you. You fight the urge to reach for him, you know you have to stand your ground.

“I don’t care about perfect focus. I care about coming home to you. About having someone who understands me. Someone who stays.”

You whisper his name, but he shakes his head.

“If you do not want to stay, then leave, cheri.” His voice is low, and there’s a breathily disbelieving laugh that clouds the end of his sentence. He doesn’t think you’ll actually leave. That is his last mistake. He doesn’t realise how much you are will to do to help him reach his goals.

You love him so much. But you can’t keep holding him back, you won’t let yourself. Endless phone calls pile in throughout that night, but by morning they have stopped. A single text shines bright among the string of apologies.

“I love you. Please come home.” But home isn’t with him anymore.

lewis hamilton

It’s the hardest sentence you’ve ever had to say. Your heart beats heavy in your chest. Doing the right thing is never easy.

“I think we should break up,” you murmur, barely loud enough to rise above the hum of the hotel room’s air conditioning. “You’re better off without the distraction. Better off with me gone.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. Lewis doesn’t speak right away, he doesn’t even look at you at first. He just stares down at the floor, hands clasped tightly to the crisp white bedsheets.

When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse. “You think you are a distraction? Baby, what?”

His head shoots up and his eyes meet yours with a tearful gaze. He’s stuck in place, so in shock that he can barely move.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I see the pressure you’re under. The expectations. The media. I don’t want to be one more thing pulling at you. You need to focus. And I— I can’t always be okay. You shouldn’t have to carry that too—carry me too.”

His jaw clenches like he’s trying not to fall apart from your words. Each thing you say, each self deprecating phrase, cuts into him like a knife.

“No. No! It’s not like that. Yes it’s hard, it’s always been hard. But no,” he says with a sudden firmness. But not anger. Somehow, that hurts more than rage.

“You’re not something I carry, you’re the reason I keep going.” He finally turns to face you, eyes glassy with something unspoken. “Do you really think I’d be better off alone in all this? You really think an empty house and an empty bed is going to fix me?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Because it’s already too much.

“I’ve given up a lot for this career,” he says, voice shaking. “So many things. And I’ve told myself over and over it was worth it. I’ve made a million mistake and I’ll make a million more before I retire. I’m sure of it. But you’re the first thing in a long time that feels right. You’re the first person who has made me feel like there is more to life than winning.”

His voice cracks on that last word, and he curses under his breath, turning away like he can’t bear to let you see. Like the very sight of you hurts him. It’s hard to admit that it hurts you too.

“I love you,” he whispers. “And you want to walk away because you think I’d be better without you?”

You’re crying now, silent tears slipping down your cheeks, and it’s killing him. He crosses the room… then stops. Like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. He doesn’t want to over step in already shaky grounds.

“I won’t beg you,” he says, finally. “If you really believe I’ll be happier without you… then go.”

And so you do.

You feel his absence deep in your bones. It’s hard, figuring out what to do when the thing that made him feel most human leaves. But no one ever talks about how hard it’s to be the one who must walk away.

george russell

You’re standing at the edge of the room, arms crossed tight over your chest, like you're trying to physically hold yourself together. George is sitting on the edge of the bed, running a towel through his hair, fresh from the shower and smiling up at you with practiced fondness. Then you say it.

“I think we should break up.”

And it’s like a switch flips.

His hands still, towel frozen mid-motion. The silence stretches long and cold. Neither of you move, each waiting for the others next choice.

Finally, breaking the dome of silence over the two of you, he speaks, slow and careful. “You… what?”

“I just think maybe I’m a distraction,” you whisper, not meeting his eyes. “You’ve been under so much pressure and I— I don’t want to be something that takes your focus away.”

George stands, slowly, eyes narrowed just slightly. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not,” you insist, your voice already cracking. “You’re fighting for a championship. You don’t need me in your head before every quali or after every crash, you need to think of yourself. You need to be selfish for once!”

His expression doesn’t soften. If anything, it sharpens, like he’s trying to understand how this could possibly be happening. He drops the towel onto the bed, his hands resting beside him with a practiced kind of care.

“So you’ve already decided,” he says, voice quiet and tight. “Without talking to me.”

You look away. “It’s better this way.”

“For who?” The question is sharp, angry in a way George rarely lets himself be. “Because it sure as hell isn’t for me.”

The fight drains from him almost instantly. He hates getting mad, especially at you. He runs a hand down his face and leans back, sitting back down in the bed and letting the distance between you grow.

“I thought we were a team,” he says, softer now, but broken. “I thought when things got hard, we worked through it. We talked. Together.”

You can barely breathe. “I didn’t want to make you choose.”

“But there was never a choice,” he says, shaking his head. “It was always you. Everytime.”

“And that’s why I couldn’t let you decide… I’m sorry.”

You move towards the door. He doesn’t stop you. Not because he wants you to go, but because he’s not the kind of man who’ll beg someone to stay who’s already halfway gone. Your decision your his own, he won’t tell you what you can or can’t do.

But after you leave, he sits on the edge of the bed, the one that used to be yours, staring at the door like he expects you to come back. You don’t. And George doesn’t sleep that night, or the one after. He’s not sure when he will ever sleep well again knowing what he let slip through his fingers.

part two here!

[1oveworld]

i know i’ve been negativeposting lately lol i’m actually doing really well though. i changed a lot and i’m very happy with my life right now

[buckyalpine]

18+ AF Minors dni. Just a lil smutty thought with a scene I imagined. Bucky finds out Tony updated the security system for the compound and upgraded all the cameras to HD quality.

"So what you're saying is that footage would've recorded everything in the kitchen from morning to evening and the middle of the night...everything?" Bucky shuffled by Tony's desk after everyone had left the briefing about the latest Stark tech. Everyone's phones w

"Yes grandpa, that's how a security system works" Tony snorted while Bucky hummed, his mind still wandering.

"Yeah but....everything..in full detail? Including sound?"

"Yes, why, what are you doing in the kitchen" He cocked his head in confusion while the super soldier gave him a blank stare, only blinking twice in response, his cheeks growing redder with each passing second.

"Oh"

"OH"

Bucky scrambled out of the room, leaving behind a cackling Tony, his fingers desperately tapping his phone to unlock and check the security archives. He locked himself in his room, his stomach already churning when he saw the date of the video still very much accessible, dragging his finger to find the exact time-

"FUCK Sergeant!!" Bucky nearly flung the phone, quickly lowering the volume of the video, your loud, slutty moans and fucked out face clear as day. "P-please Sergeant, harder!"

"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"

What had started off as wholesome date night had turned into something else by the time Bucky had you alone in the compound. He'd struggled to keep his hand to himself all night with the dress you were wearing and it didn't help that the waiter at dinner shamelessly flirted with you the entire time. You didn't entertain it but it didn't stop the former assassin from growing jealous, itching to remind you who you belonged to by the end of the night.

You'd gone by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and the sight of you leaning over the counter to fill your cup was enough to break Bucky's resolve. His bedroom could wait.

"Princess" Bucky swallowed thickly hearing his voice dripping with possessiveness, watching himself cage you against the counter, purring in your ear. He could see you shiver as his lips trail up the column of your neck, preening as he licked your skin, pressing his achingly hard erection against your ass.

"B-Bucky" You whimpered, squeaking at the spank he gave you, clicking his tongue.

"Try again, baby"

"Sergeant Barnes" Your voice melted into a moan as he hummed, taking his time slipping your dress up over your hips to give himself a perfect view of your lacy covered cunt.

Bucky fully intended on deleting the video. He was going to highlight the section and get rid of it for good. He desperately tried to ignore the way his cock stirred the longer he watched, unable to tear his eyes off the way you were bent over the kitchen counter like such a good girl, waiting for him to do something.

"That's right. Your Sergeant" The clink of his belt hitting the floor made you whine. He wasn't interested in prepping you, no foreplay, this was pure possessiveness, every vein in his body itching to own you. "You're a little slut for your Sergeant, aren't you princess?"

"M'your slut" you nodded, gasping at the tear of your panties, the lacy material tossed to the side.

"Let me show I fuck my slut" Bucky didn't give you a second to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace, your hips bumping against the marble countertop.

"S-SERGEANT BAR-NES!-" Bucky slapped his hand over your mouth, your broken screams muffled against his palm.

"Take it" He growled, his other hand pressing against your shoulder blades, purely using you for his pleasure, "You love how your Sergeant fucks you, my perfect little slut, mine"

"Fuck Sergeant!!" You wailed while Bucky snaked his hand to circle your clit, his cock starting to leak at the way you tightened around him. You'd never looked prettier. Your makeup was ruined. Sweat covered your body. Your eyes rolled back. Bucky replayed that part of the video over and over again, finally giving into his heavy cock begging for attention. He gave himself a squeeze hoping it would calm him down but before he knew it, he'd pulled it out and started to tug, precum glistening at the head.

"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"

"Pleasepleaseplease-fill-me" you slurred, unable to form sentences while Bucky's grunts grw louder, his pace faltering.

"Gonna fill you up with so much cum, you'll feel me in your pussy for days princess" Bucky fucked you like an animal, eyes feral as he kept you caged under him, his heavy balls and hard cock ready to blow, "We'll go back to that restaurant. Have that same waiter try and talk to you while I drip out between your legs. Won't even let you wear panties baby, want you to make a mess on their chair, let them see where I marked you, fuck m'cumming!!"

Bucky tightly held the base of his cock to keep from cumming as he watched himself pump you full, hips stuttering. He couldn't cum yet. Not when he knew what was coming up next. He watched himself pull out of you, cooing at your soft little whimper before decidedly acting like a deranged feral fuck again.

"Shhh, let your Sergeant clean you up again" He smirked, picking you up with 0 effort and setting you down on the counter, spreading your legs apart so he could lick up every bit of cum that dripped out of you, the most salacious sounds filling the room. He greedily lapped and sucked at your clit, groaning at the tasted of his spend mixed with yours, loving that no other man would get to taste something so good. No other man would get to watch their cum drip out of you after filling you past the brim. No other man would get to have you at your most sensitive, cleaning every bit of their cum off you with their face buried between their legs-

"F-fuck" Bucky whimpered, quickly biting his lip to shut himself up but it was no use. His chest heaved, breathy moans growing louder as he jerked himself faster. "Yes, yeah, shit-" Bucky was nearly whining at this point, his hand working at his sensitive cockhead, giving himself quick, hard strokes, "OH FUCKK" Thick ropes of cum spilled from his cock, a steady stream making a mess all over his sheets as he continued to touch himself, rewinding the video to the beginning. His hard cock wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

Maybe he wouldn't delete the video just yet.

Later in the groupchat:

Tony: Everyone, please don't check the kitchen footage from two days ago at exactly 1:04 to 1:38

Sam: Why would I check that in the first place

Nat: Wasn't planning on it

Steve: I don't know how to access the footage.

Tony: Trust me. None of you should check that exact time stamp.

Tony: 🙂

*a few minutes later after everyone obviously checked the footage*

Nat: Holy shit.

Sam: BARNES YOU DIRTY DOG

Nat: That's hot

Steve: Tony, I still can't access the footage.

Sam: YALL ARE NASTY

Steve: Who is nasty?

Sam: I love it though

Y/n: 😏He's the best sergeant

Sam: HAHAHA

Nat: You guys are so cute 🥺️🥺️

Bucky: I hate you all

Sam: What you gonna do about it Sergeant

-Bucky has left the chat-

Steve: Why did Bucky leave

[rechvlle]

۶ৎ sticky like lipgloss ₊˚♡

ᝰ.ᐟ synopsis ── after a particularly intense fight with your boyfriend, thanos, you seek out the comfort of his best friend, nam-gyu, which, not only is wrong—at least to thanos—but it ends up wrong, too.

♡ featuring ── thanos/choi su-bong (player 230) x female!reader x nam-gyu (player 124) ♡ word count ── 3.4k ♡ content warnings ── college au (they have money and aren't in debt, not as bad, anyway) ◞ established relationship ◞ cheating ◞ soft!namgyu ◞ desperate!needy!reader ◞ slight (more implied) emotional abuse ◞ manipulation ◞ toxic relationship(s) ◞ impulsive decisions ◞ kissing ◞ mentions of make-up sex ◞ vaginal fingering ◞ vaginal penetration ◞ pet names (baby, sugar, etc.) ◞ praying mantis position ◞ downward doggy position ◞ safe sex ◞ slight praise kink ◞ lowkey vanilla ◞ spanking ◞ mentions of anal ◞ coincidental creampie ♡ author note ── me after finishing fanfic after months of deleting and rewriting over ten…? i mean, this is a one-shot so… anyway tho, the title has kinda no correlation to the fic, i just needed a title guys, don't sue me :-( anyway, had fun writing this ^_^ tell me if I missed any tags…

What could—no, what is worse: being held at gunpoint, fearing for your life, or having an argument with your boyfriend? Being held at gunpoint; the choice is obvious and it isn’t arguable, it’s quite objective. Whilst fearing for your life is truly terrifying and will, most certainly, cause trauma to one another, your body simply cannot tell the difference between such.

It’s pitiful, truly. In a way, you’re too attached to your drugged-up, junkie-ass boyfriend, so due to the amount of love you have for him, whenever the two of you argue, it’s as if you—and your body—cannot tell the difference in a near-death experience versus arguing or being yelled at by your boyfriend. You are truly pathetic.

It’s sickening at how easily you and Su-bong, or well, Thanos, fight.

Oddly enough, not too soon after he started his rapping career, he wanted you to call him Thanos. You two fought about that—except, he started the fight. He thought that you didn’t love him because you weren’t going to familiarly call him Thanos instead of Su-bong. You obliged in the end, though; you didn’t want him to think the worst of you.

You were addicted to his touch, his love, his affection—anything and everything that he would be willing to give you—so whenever he’s upset, you need to make him happy, to resolve things as quickly as possible. So, sex was common after fights. Su-bong never rejected the offer, he wanted it, too—almost always, anyway.

Except, this time, he wasn’t going to fold so easily.

“Come on, baby! We both know what happened,” Su-bong said, gripping your forearm tightly with his left arm.

His nails dug into your skin, leaving small crescent marks; expression guarded, angry, almost hateful. Su-bong slightly shook you, not hard enough or just enough to make you dizzy, but the right amount to make you annoyed.

“Su-bong, I didn’t—“

The hand that held your arm shot up to your face, interrupting you with his index finger to your lips.

“Ah-ah, not my name,” Su-bong spoke in a sing-song voice, almost mocking.

“Thanos,” you started—his face turned towards more approving, but you could still see (and sense) his anger. “I wasn’t flirting with anyone.”

Right. He’s upset, no, furious, at you for “cheating on him,” because you “flirted” with someone else (you asked for a pen during class). And of course, like the “professional accuser” that he is—and due to you and him having that class together—he took your words as flirting.

Because 1) why would you need anything else from anyone other than him? Is he not good enough for you? 2) you don’t need to talk to anyone else other than him, let alone ask for something. It’s disrespectful, you’re cheating, a liar.

“Don’t lie, now. You didn’t need to ask him,” Su-bong—no, Thanos—whined. He pulled his hand away from your face, rolling his eyes in the process.

“It was just for a pen. You know I’m not like that!” You almost screamed, you were already breathing pretty hard; you were overwhelmed, overstimulated.

Thanos is high, of course, so there’s no telling how extreme his reactions will be. Once, he slammed you against the wall, even smacked you, but nothing too fatal or hurtful. Maybe.

“Y/N, I’m bein’ pretty fuckin’ lenient with you right now,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes, yet again.

“Thanos, I’m sorry, really! It didn't mean anything!” You pleaded with him, your hands coming to grasp his arms, biting your lip.

You gave Thanos your signature look: seductive eyes, bitten bottom lip, the touches—oh, he loved it all. Yet, to him, at this moment, he doesn't feel any sort of sympathy for you, he doesn't feel aroused or turned on by this. He finds it too serious—especially when he’s high out of his mind, much like how he is now.

“Nuh-uh, baby, that isn't going to work on me right now.”

You could, in a way, feel your heart drop. What did he mean it wasn't going to work? Doesn't he see how stressed out you are right now? How needy—in a way—that you are right now?

“Thanos, please, let me make it up to you!” You could feel the tears brimming in your eyes, the pouty, desperate look you had on your face.

“Nah, I know what you’re trying to do. Cheat me out like a whore, huh?” He pulled away from your touch, shoving you in the process.

“Why don’t you go to that bitch you asked to borrow from?” He looked at you, almost crazed, gripping your arms now, hard, his nails, yet again, digging into your skin. It was painful.

Your mouth was agape as he continued to yell at you, hurling a few insults your way: “Fuckin’ whore,” “dumb bitch,” would be a few.

You couldn't take it. You were borderline hyperventilating, stressed, and hurt. Why would Thanos think of you as a cheater? You’ve never done anything that could prove you to be one; never cheated or lied to do something with another. He has, yet you trust him.

As soon as you got out of Thanos’ grip, you bolted out of your guy’s dormitory. You could smell the weed on him, the redness in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Normally, you didn't care if he was high or got high, as long as it wasn't hardcore drugs—although, he lied every time you asked, always saying it was weed. You knew better, you’re smarter than that, yet you still trusted him.

Now, though? You’re upset and hurt, and who was the first person that came to your mind? Nam-gyu. Every time you and Thanos fought, he was always there for you to cheer you up, make you feel better, and reassure you when Thanos didn't (or wouldn’t).

The knocks against Nam-gyu’s door were insistent; your knuckles rasped against the wood of it. You stood outside for a few seconds, waiting, your arms slightly crossed, your hands holding onto your elbows.

Nam-gyu opened the door, rubbing his eyes for a moment, his gaze focusing on you.

“Y/N? What’re you doin’ here?” He asked, grabbing one of your arms, and pulling you inside.

“It—he…” You couldn't get your words out, just shaking your head. Nam-gyu understood, though.

“‘Ey, it’s okay, c’mere,” he pulled you in for a hug, nothing tight, though. “Just tell me what happened.”

Of course, you did, through a series of sobs and pauses, but he gave his advice.

“It’ll be okay, Y/N. Look, I’m sure he didn't mean to hurt your feelings,” he held you against his chest, sitting down on the couch in his living area.

You sniffle, nodding, your hands draped around his neck. He could feel your cold hands against his warm neck. Nam-gyu always smelt of some sort of musk and drugs, dirty. In a way, it was a very comforting smell to you.

He rubbed your lower back before patting your head, running his hands through your hair, rubbing your scalp, too. It was always so comforting to you: his touches, the way he softly kisses your head, rubs your body, makes you feel so good.

“Nam-gyu, can you…?” You stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence, a bit unsure of how to word your question.

“Yeah? What is it?”

You stayed silent for a moment before looking up at him. You spoke softly to him, “Make me feel better, please.”

Nam-gyu was a bit stunned; you’re Thanos’ girl, not his, not Nam-gyu’s. Yet ever since Thanos introduced you two, Nam-gyu has always had a thing for you: checking you out, those subtle touches and “platonic,” “reassuring” kisses that he’d give you, the soft and sweet way he’d talk to you.

In a way, he wanted to take you as his own. He knows that Thanos would be upset, angry, really fucking angry. Yet he can’t help himself to these thoughts, these sick, dirty thoughts.

Nam-gyu quickly recovered, though, a smirk on his face.

“Yeah, baby, just let me take care of you,” his voice was sickeningly sweet, twisted, a little.

Nam-gyu cradled you, picking you up in one swing, your hands still wrapped around his neck, his hands holding you by your waist and your butt. He kept you close, walking you to his bedroom. (His dorm mates were out, no need to worry.)

He sat you down on the edge of his bed, just your feet sticking out. His sheets were rough, nothing like the silk you sleep on in your room. You didn't mind it, though.

You know it’s wrong; just before leaving, you told Thanos that you’d never cheat, yet here you are. Although, a part of you didn't care. Thanos was being a dick, a complete douche. Maybe all you need is a little break from his toxic cock, maybe you need to try his friend’s.

Nam-gyu pulled your shirt up and over your head, the cute, lace, pink bra you normally wear fully exposed to him. He smirked in response, wrapping one of his arms around your upper back, pushing your body up just enough to unclasp your bra, pulling the straps of your bra down, and pulling it off of you.

You felt fully exposed. You’ve only ever been this close to Thanos and an ex from high school. Nam-gyu would be the third person to ever be this close, this intimate.

He let go of her body, letting her body hit the bed.

“You know, you’re beautiful, Y/N,” he spoke, leaning into your neck, peppering kisses down your neck, collarbone, and then to your chest. His mouth found the areola of your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple. His right-hand kneaded at her breast, sending stimulants.

You softly moaned at the sensation. It wasn't as intense as rubbing your clit would be or penetration, but it was still stimulating to get you wet (and ready).

Nam-gyu continued to suck at your breast while his left-hand unbuttoned your jean shorts, slipping his hand through the rough fabric of the denim and the same, lace fabric—of your matching bra—of your panties.

You sucked in a breath, your corresponding hand coming to grab at the one inside your pants.

“Nam-gyu, wait—”

His mouth retracted from your breast, his hands still their movement. He thought you wanted this.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

Your lips twitched. You wanted to tell him to stop, that this would be wrong. You asked for it, though, and truly you wanted it, so you retracted your hand. Nam-gyu didn't let your hesitant expression slip his interest.

“You want me to stop?”

You quickly shook your head. Nam-gyu smirked, muttering an “okay,” before slipping your denim shorts off. His eyes stayed on the lace fabric of your panties, he could see the damp spot, your wetness, your arousal.

His fingers went to massage the area, swirling the fabric around with his fingers.

“Man, look at that…” His tone was almost mocking, it made you whimper, almost reminding you of Thanos’ toxic words. “You’re so wet, sweetheart.”

His words made you clench, around nothing, too. That didn’t go unnoticed by Nam-gyu, he could just feel your desperation through your panties. He pulled his fingers away, slipping them off of you.

Your breath hitched at his actions. You could feel the cold air of Nam-gyu’s dorm against your core. He noticed and took advantage of that: moving his hand in a way that would blow air toward you. He noticed your slightly erotic reaction and slathered himself in the success of pleasing you, even just slightly.

You whined, “Don’t tease, please,” your voice was almost angelic to him, the neediness in it just spoke to him like a siren to a sailor.

Nam-gyu obliged, of course. He didn’t want to put any more stress on you than there already is. He dove right in: his middle and ring finger rubbing at your already-wet clit.

“You wanted this, baby?”

You eagerly nodded at Nam-gyu’s words, softly whimpering at his actions. He reveled in the fact that he could pleasure you, maybe even better so than Thanos. His fingers continued their ministrations on your clit, rubbing you just the right way; you moaned at such, almost wanting to beg for more.

Nam-gyu took your whimpers, moans, and gasps as a sign to go further. His fingers moved away from your clit to the inside of your cunny. It was a fast movement, it made you gasp a bit louder, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you, your hands found themselves clawing at his sheets. He kept his fingers at a steady pace, curling them up at just the right spot.

“Oh-oh, Nam-gyu…” You whined out the last vowel in his name, feeling his fingers curl up at your g-spot.

“Yeah? Wha’d’ya want, sugar?” He continued to speak with a mocking yet also prideful tone.

You couldn't respond, as you could barely form a coherent thought. The only thing that you are thinking of right now: is Nam-gyu, and the damn-good way that he’s fingering you.

Except, something clicked in your mind. Sugar. He called you “sugar.” Thanos would often use that nickname on you whenever he was doting on you, loving on you—overall, just being a good boyfriend. Except for the fact that his emotions can change like a flipped switch…

That didn't matter to you, though, you quickly blocked it out of your mind. You didn't want to focus on your piece of shit boyfriend.

Just as quickly as the thought occurred to you and as quickly as you pushed it out, you came; your orgasm crashing down on you. Nam-gyu certainly knows how to work with his hands, and you loved that. (Maybe his work was better than Thanos’.)

He pulled his fingers out of you, looking at the sticky substance that coated them, a thin line that connected between his ring and middle finger. He rubbed his hand back onto your pussy.

“Come on, sugar, time for the real show.”

Nam-gyu shrugged his sweatpants and boxers off in a blink, his thick cock springing out. He was already leaking pre-cum.

“Condom?” He asked you, his eyes darting away from your wetness.

Your eyes met his, nodding. If you were going to cheat, you didn't want to be an absolute bitch and get pregnant by his best friend. Just “casual,” “I need some stress relief,” fucking (because of your boyfriend’s douchebag ways.)

Nam-gyu sat up and off of his bed, he grabbed a condom off of a random shelf in his room. You didn't question it.

“Scoot up a bit.”

You did as he asked, moving your body up until your head felt the (very slight) comfort of his pillows. He smiled at the action, moving over and on top of you. He lined his manhood up to your wet entrance.

“You ready, baby?” He asked, his hands coming to rub on your sides, you nodded.

Nam-gyu almost immediately enveloped himself inside of you. You scream-moaned. He was thick, nothing like Thanos—not to say he wasn’t, but the difference was transparent.

“Fuck, fuck…” You breathed heavily, and your hands went to grab at his shoulders, feeling the pain of being stretched out.

Nam-gyu was a patient man, though (sometimes, not really), he didn't want to rush you.

“Too much?”

You shook your head at his question, almost whining. You didn't want him to stop. The stretch was fucking intense, but good God did it feel good.

Nam-gyu nodded, moving slowly at first, just to test the waters.

“Oh-Ah!” Your nails dug into his shoulders, fuck, it felt good.

Nam-gyu halted his movements, his eyes making contact with yours as you moaned. He gave you a look (as if) to ask: “Keep going?” or “Are you okay?” You nodded when you two made eye contact. You wanted this.

Nam-gyu did so. He started sluggish, sensual as if to memorize the feeling of your insides. You were tight, perfect. God, he loved the way that you felt.

It was almost teasing at how slow his movements were. Of course, he wanted to prolong the moment, but you needed this release.

“Nam-gyu, please, just go a bit faster, because shit, I—”

Almost as on cue, he heard you say “faster,” he did. His hips moved at a swift pace, you could hear the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your skin.

He moved his right hand from your side, using it to grab your leg, throwing it over his shoulder. His cock went deeper inside you.

“Aah—Nam-gyu!” You couldn't help but moan, your head leaning back into the pillow, your hands marking up his back, now.

He grunted at your sounds, not letting up his pace. After such a toxic night with your boyfriend, how could he not give you what you want, what you need?

Your legs twitched at his movements, God, you loved it. His cock hit your cervix a few times, and his movements became a bit more rough. With the new angle, his balls were slapping against your ass.

He kept up, his hand roughly smacking against the thigh that he held up. He knows that you're close, and he wants you to feel that pleasure, yet at the same time, he also wants to prolong this moment as long as possible. He needs this pussy, your pussy.

Just as he felt your walls clench around him, he pulled out—not like he was about to cum.

“Flip over for me, sugar,” He said, patting your thigh before letting it go.

You knew where this was going, and you wanted to entertain that, so you obliged. Your head was in the pillow, ass up.

Nam-gyu held onto your hips as he pushed his dick back inside you.

“Shit, I’m never letting you go after this.”

Nam-gyu knew how upset Thanos would be if he knew that he was fucking his girlfriend right now, but she came onto him. Not his fault (even if he did like her first.) In a way, though, he didn't care about his reaction, all he was focusing on was the pretty pussy that he was fucking right now.

You moaned at the sensations, loud and slutty; like a whore. In which, you were one, but you didn't care about that at the moment.

“So good for me, sugar. Just the way I like it,” Nam-gyu picked up on the fact you liked being praised.

You couldn't help the moan of pleasure and need that came out of your mouth from his words. Good God, how much you like being praised, being told how good you are, it’s pathetic; makes you go completely weak, like a helpless puppy.

You moved your hips against him, in a way so you could feel more of him, get him as deeply inside you as possible.

Nam-gyu smirked at your actions, one of his hands smacking your ass.

“Shh, c’mon. Let me do the work,” He sounded so confident, so sure of himself that he could please you, and you loved it.

The way his thrusts were almost rhythmic yet rough. His cock was thick and just perfect for you, the move of his hips was perfect, too.

“Nam-gyu, fuck…” You couldn't help but moan out his name, it felt so good on your tongue.

He smacked your ass again, speaking to you with a bit more authority, “Yeah, ‘atta girl. Who do you belong to?”

“You! You, Nam-gyu!”

You couldn't help the words that just rolled out of your mouth. Thanos would always ask you that question during sex, while his dick was deep inside your cunny or your ass, you’d always say that you belong to him.

Nam-gyu continued his assault on your pussy, his movements becoming more ragged and uncontrolled. He knew he was close. You were, too; the way your gummy, little walls were clenching around his dick.

With a final thrust of his hips, he came inside the condom inside of you. Your orgasm came washing down over you at the same time he did. You breathed heavily, feeling his cock leave you empty. Yet, at the same time that he pulled out, so did another substance.

©2025 rechvlle do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on any other sites.