#best earbuds for calls

[acwolyf]

What is ENC?

ENC stands for Environmental Noise Cancellation, a technology designed to reduce background noise during calls and audio playback. It ensures that your voice is clear and free from disturbances caused by environmental sounds like traffic, wind, or chatter.

How Does ENC Work?

Microphone Array: ENC-equipped earbuds use multiple microphones to capture external environmental noise and your voice.

Noise Differentiation: The system differentiates between your voice and background noise.

Noise Suppression Algorithm: Using advanced algorithms, the earbuds filter out unwanted sounds while amplifying and focusing on your voice.

Result: The recipient hears a clear, noise-free voice, even in noisy environments.

How Does ENC Help?

Clear Calls: It isolates your voice for high-quality communication, making it ideal for work calls, video chats, or conversations in busy surroundings.

Improved Listening: ENC reduces distractions, ensuring an immersive audio experience when listening to music or podcasts.

Productivity Boost: Helps maintain focus during important conversations or tasks, even in noisy environments.

ENC Earbuds enhance audio and call quality, offering a premium listening and speaking experience in diverse conditions.

[quibble-auk]

My secret.

I am the most artist looking artist to ever art.

[boston-levin]

https://boston-levin.hashnode.dev/top-noise-cancelling-best-earbuds-under-1500-with-touch-controls-best-picks-for-2025

[ammarii123]

TWS Wireless Earbuds

Buy High-quality waterproof earbuds, Bluetooth headsets, smartwatches, and more. Shop online for hi-fi headphones, mini gadgets, and wireless options! Find your perfect tech here

Visit for more : https://www.ammarri.com/collections/electronic-gadgets

[accessoriesmart]

Bluetooth Earphone 5.0 Wireless 8D HIFI Sport MIC Earbuds Gaming Music Headset

Features of the Product:

Bluetooth 5.0 chip Second-generation

8D stereo HIFI brass surround

LED smart cool button light

Life waterproof

Magnetic pull-out charging box

Ergonomic design 

Long battery life for up to 8 hours of music playback

Support single/binaural use

Click Here to Read more:

[oaksgrove]

The Codebreaker

pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x Reader

synopsys: You had always kept your distance from the team—focused, distant, and hidden behind a mask. But when a mission goes wrong and you get gravely injured, the team is forced to confront what they’ve never seen: the person behind the mask.

warnings: Angst, injury, near-death experience, trust issues, emotional tension, some swearing, Ghost being protective, emotional revelations, Ghost and Reader’s situationship…

word count: 1798

No one in the 141 knew much about Phantom.

You were a ghost among ghosts, a shadow wrapped in tactical gear. A tech expert, the best they’d ever seen—able to slice through encrypted networks like butter, reroute enemy drones mid-air, and turn any battlefield into a controlled digital playground. If the mission required intel, misdirection, or cyber sabotage, Phantom had it covered before anyone even finished asking.

But off the field?

You blended into the background, as if you were part of the walls. Not unfriendly, just… distant. Spoke only when necessary, never rude but always concise. Answered when asked, nodded when acknowledged, but never lingered in conversations longer than needed.

You weren’t cold, just hard to grasp.

A constant presence but never the center of attention.

The others noticed, of course.

Soap had once muttered to Gaz, "He doesn't take up space."

And he was right.

You never interrupted, never inserted yourself into banter or stories. When you were in the room, you were invisible in a way that had nothing to do with their tactical skills. You occupied the corner of the rec room with a laptop, earbuds in, or sat with a sudoku book in your hands, solving puzzles in complete silence. Always listening but never there in the way the others were.

Even in base, You never exposed their face or body. Gear came off only in private, always ensuring no one caught so much as a glimpse of skin. High-collared undershirts, gloves, layers—never a stray detail out of place.

The team accepted it without question.

Phantom, how you were called, was an expert at keeping unknown.

And everyone just assumed you were a man.

Soap had tried, on multiple occasions, to break through that quiet shell, determined to make some kind of dent.

"Do you ever relax, Phantom?"

"I’m relaxed now."

"Christ, mate, that’s sad."

Phantom hadn’t reacted, just kept solving their sudoku puzzle.

Gaz had once thrown a pack of gum at you during a mission debrief, just to see if you’d catch it without looking. You had, effortlessly, then tossed it back without a word.

Price trusted you without hesitation. He never questioned the silence, never pushed for more than they were willing to give. If Phantom said something was secure, it was secure. If Phantom gave a time frame, Phantom met it.

And Ghost?

Ghost understood you in a way the others didn’t. He never pried, never asked. He knew what it was like to live behind a mask, to carry a name that wasn’t really a name.

Phantom wasn’t close to the team—not in the way they were with each other. But they were part of it. A constant presence, woven into the unit’s rhythm.

And that was enough.

Until the mission where everything fell apart.

"We’re in and out. Quick, clean, no unnecessary noise" Price said, voice steady as he laid out the plan.

A cartel base deep in hostile territory. High-value intel buried in their systems, locked behind multiple layers of encryption. The team needed Phantom to get in, extract the files, and be out before anyone knew they were there.

Easy.

For them, at least.

"I’ll crack their network before we breach," You said, tapping at your wrist console. "Should have access to their security feed before we even hit the ground."

Price nodded. "Ghost, Soap—you’ll be Phantom’s cover. Gaz and I will clear the outer perimeter. We move fast. Any questions?"

No one spoke.

"Good. Wheels up in ten."

Phantom did a final check of their gear, making sure their mask was secure, their gloves snug against their fingers. The mission was simple.

They’d done riskier ops before.

So why did something feel… off?

The op started smoothly.

You breached the cartel’s network before your boots even hit the ground, feeding the enemy false security reports and rerouting camera feeds. The team moved through the compound like shadows, taking down targets with ruthless efficiency.

They reached the objective with zero complications.

Too easy.

You worked fast, fingers flying across their portable console as they pulled the files. They barely glanced up when Ghost muttered, "Make it quick."

A few more keystrokes—then a small confirmation beep.

"Got it."

Price’s voice came through comms. "Extraction point secure. Move."

And that’s when everything went to hell.

The moment they stepped outside, the alarms blared.

"Shite," Soap cursed.

Your blood went cold. "That’s not me. I disabled their systems—"

Gunfire erupted before they could finish the sentence.

The cartel had known they were coming.

A goddamn trap.

"Move!" Price barked, his voice sharp through comms.

The team pushed forward, cutting through enemies as they raced toward the extraction point. You stayed low, recalibrating your wrist console to jam the cartel’s reinforcements.

Everyone was so focused on the fight that they didn’t see the sniper.

Not until it was too late.

A sharp, searing pain tore through your chest.

You staggered, breath catching, as your body folded under the impact. Their gloved hand pressed to their vest, but it was already warm, slick. Blood. Too much of it.

Distantly, you heard Soap’s frantic voice through comms.

"Sniper! Tech's hit—shit, they’re down!"

Boots pounded against the ground—Ghost, closing in fast.

"Stay with me, mate," he ordered, voice tight as he dropped beside them. "Keep your eyes open."

You tried, really tried, but breathing wasn’t working right.

Every inhale rattled, wet and sharp, drowning them from the inside. Panic clawed at their ribs.

Ghost’s hands were on their mask.

"Gotta get this off," he muttered.

A sharp pocket knife was pulled from his belt—a sleek line drawn across your mask—then cool air hit your face.

Ghost froze.

His expression shifted—something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

And then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you felt like drowning.

Pain swallowed you whole.

It was the first thing you felt, the first thing that told you—you were alive. It burned, sharp and relentless, twisting inside your ribs like a serrated knife. Every breath rattled, wet and broken, lungs struggling to work through the thick haze of agony.

Something beeped steadily nearby. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, cold and sterile. The weight of blankets pressed down on you, too heavy, too confining.

Hospital.

Your fingers twitched weakly, brushing against the IV in your arm. The world blurred and steadied, the dull light above flickering as you forced your gaze to shift.

You turn your head sluggishly, and that’s when you saw them—you weren't alone.

Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap.

They stood around your bed, too still, too silent.

Their usual confidence, their sharp-edged ease—gone. In its place was something heavier. Something unfamiliar.

"How bad?" you rasped.

Soap let out a breath—sharp, unsteady. "You almost died, lass."

Lass.

The word lodged deep, piercing more than the bullet had.

Right, they knew now.

Something cold curled in your stomach.

Price’s voice broke through the heavy quiet. "Shot went through your lung. We barely got you out."

You swallowed, gaze fixed on the IV in your arm. "It doesn’t change anything."

A scoff. Bitter. Tired. Ghost.

"Yeah, it does."

The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t a reprimand, or an accusation.

They were quiet. Weighted.

Gaz ran a hand down his face, exhaling hard. "Bloody hell, Phantom. We didn’t know what to think."

They were still processing it. Still recalibrating everything they thought they knew. Phantom could see it in their faces—the way their eyes traced over her now, like they were seeing her for the first time. Like they were realizing how much they didn’t know.

"Should’ve told us," Price murmured, not unkindly.

Not a command. Not even a question. Just… something else. Something you didn’t know how to name.

You wet your cracked lips. "Would it have made a difference?"

Ghost’s jaw tightened, gaze darkening. "You wouldn’t have been bleeding out on the ground with a mask suffocating you."

Silence.

Cold. Heavy.

Soap let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked… lost. Frustrated. "Do you even trust us?"

The question settled like a weight on your chest.

Did you?

You had spent years making sure no one got close enough to ask. It had always been easier that way—no questions, no attachments, no complications.

You opened your mouth.

Then closed it.

Price’s voice was quieter now, steady. "Look, we’re not mad. We just—" He exhaled, shaking his head. "We care, kid. That’s all."

Gaz nodded. "You’re family, Phantom."

Family.

The word dug into your ribs like shrapnel.

Your fingers curled into the stiff fabric of the blanket, lungs too tight, throat raw.

Soap sighed, rubbing his temples. "Christ, lass. We thought we lost you." His voice cracked. Barely noticeable. But it still struck like a bullet between your ribs.

Ghost was silent. Arms crossed, shoulders tense. His usual unreadable mask firmly in place—except for the way his fingers twitched against his sleeve.

Like he was holding something back.

Like he was holding himself together.

You weren’t used to this.

Weren’t used to people giving a damn about whether you came back or not.

"I’m here," you muttered, unsure if it was meant to reassure them or yourself.

Ghost’s eyes stayed on you, unreadable but piercing.

"Yeah," Ghost murmured. "Barely."

You wanted to joke, to brush it off, but there was no dodging this.

Not when you had seen the way they’d looked at you the moment you woke up.

Not when the usual mate had been replaced by lass and she.

Soap let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "Y’know, I should’ve guessed. You were always too fuckin’ quiet. The real mystery is how we didn’t clock it sooner."

You raised a brow. "Because I made sure you didn’t."

Soap huffed. "Aye, well, I’m starting to think we should’ve pried a little harder."

"You would’ve gotten nowhere," you muttered.

"Yeah, I’m getting that."

There was a long pause, thick with something unspoken.

Then, Ghost shifted closer, standing at the side of the bed. "You’re one of us, Phantom." The words were calm, certain. "Doesn’t matter what’s under the mask. Never did."

Your throat tightened.

Price sighed, stepping forward and placing a careful hand on your shoulder—solid, grounding. "We’ve got your six, Phantom. Always."

Gaz nudged your foot lightly, the closest thing to a brotherly shove he could manage with you stuck in a hospital bed. "Next time, don’t scare the shit out of us, yeah?"

You exhaled a soft, tired laugh. "No promises."

Soap groaned. "Jesus. We’re doomed."

Laughter rippled through the room, something lighter breaking through the tension.

You let your eyes drift over them—these men who had been her teammates, her squadmates, but were now something else entirely.

Family.

It still felt foreign. 

strange even.

But maybe, just maybe…

You could learn to live with it.

taglist: @honestlymassivetrash @pythonmoth

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

isagi yoichi was the love of your life.

he made you laugh. he always seemed to know exactly what to say at the right time. he wasn’t particularly assertive, but he didn’t let himself get tossed around either. he was always smiling. he never judged based on appearance. he always made you feel safe. your heart was kept safely in the palm of his hands, always and eternally kept from being broken ever again.

that was until he left for blue lock.

he had changed. he was no longer soft spoken and kind. he no longer knew how to keep your heart safe anymore, and yet he still kept it, never giving it back. he was closed off. he only cared about soccer now. you had finally decided that if he wasn’t going to return your heart, then you won’t use it anymore.

isagi yoichi was the loss of your life.

you were his, but he wasn’t yours. it was only temporary, and yet you expected for it to last forever. only the savoring taste of cotton candy in your mouth before it unnoticeably melts away rapidly and permanently. you both never technically broke up, only that eventually, after around a month or so into the neo egoist league, he slowly stopped texting you. you realized quickly that he must be too busy to have a lover now, and so you called it off in your mind, not wanting to bother him with a text of breaking it off.

eventually, you went to college. you bought a new phone and got a new number. you claimed to have moved on from that fact that you practically dumped a world famous soccer player, and yet, whenever your roommates had a soccer match with isagi in it on, you always caught your eyes drifting to the tv, despite your constant remarks about not being interested in soccer. your eyes couldn’t help but soften whenever isagi smiled at scoring a goal; it was reflex already.

you missed him.

you missed your yocchan, the one who you met on the playground at age 4, the one who you always had to do homework for because he constantly forgot, the one who always told you how pretty you were with a grin, the one that always held your hands in his to warm them up on a cold winter day. you wanted him back. you wanted your yocchan back.

but it would be too late now, right?

how wrong you were.

playing for bastard münchen in germany filled isagi’s schedule hastily. soccer practice, 3 meals, fan meets, and a scarce amount of free time that he uses to learn german. learning german was the worst part; he knew that he could just use those language translating earbuds, but he wanted to at least make an effort for his fans. but the difficulty with german wasn’t the best part.

isagi had asked yukimiya to hide his phone somewhere so that he wouldn’t get distracted from training. he was going to text you a quick note, but was distracted by noa speaking to him. after finishing their conversation, yukimiya had already took isagi’s phone, so isagi had no time. he decided to tell you after the neo egoist league, hoping that you’d understand. but when he texted you again, you didn’t respond.

and the time he texted you again the next day.

and the time he texted you again the day after that

and the time he texted you again after that.

and again.

and again.

until he finally came to the conclusion that you must have thought that you both broke up. but when he tried looking for you, you were nowhere to be found. he had missed the entirety of his 3rd year of high school for soccer the the u20 world cup, but that also meant missing you for a whole year. he couldn’t move on; he didn’t know how. you were the stabilizer in his life, the one who he loved. the one who he always thought of.

and now he couldn’t even contact you.

but his worries will soon end.

clutching the ticket in the palm of your hand, you wondered if you should even be here. but you already flew to a whole other country just for this, so it’s way too late to back out now. your eyes wandered to the massive stadium towering over you, taking yet another breath before stepping in. your roommate had gotten herself tickets to the bastard münchen versus manshine city match, but then she realized that she had school that day, and that she couldn’t go. she reluctantly gave her tickets to you instead.

meaning that you would see isagi in person again today.

okay, okay, maybe he won’t see you. maybe if he does, he’ll just ignore you. maybe he won’t care. hell, maybe he’s moved on already and is dating someone else. you made your way to your seat, knees bending to slowly drop to the seat. you waited for the match to start, and when the two teams came out, you tried not to search for the familiar patch of dark blue hair. key word: tried.

indigo hair suddenly clouded your vision, and isagi was there. right. fucking. there. your ex-best friend. your ex-lover. your ex-everything. suddenly, your chest tightened, and a lump formed in your throat, your eyes stinging. he’s grown just a little bit, and yet he looked so much more mature. you knew that you should relax: he was even your boyfriend anymore. and yet you still couldn’t help but feel heavy when the loss of your life is right there.

isagi scans the crowd, indigo eyes wandering side to side. he expects for himself to just see the same cheering people as usual, there to hype him up, but not this time. his jaw goes slack, and glimmering sapphires under the brightest of sun and stars seem to replace his navy eyes.

it’s you.

you’re beautiful. you’ve matured. you grew out your hair. your cheeks glowed pink in the cold winter air. fog escaped your lips when you exhaled. and you were looking right at him. isagi stays like that for a few moments, his eyes only looking at you, before kurona pulls him away from his schoolboy crush looks.

you hoped that you would never have to experience that again. was he still in love with you? you never thought of that; you thought he’d be secretly dating some idol or something. but the look in his eyes when he stared at you suggested differently from what your original thought process told you. after the match, you hurried out, begging that you’ll be able to exit the stadium quickly.

maybe isagi yoichi was the love of your life after all.

[acwolyf]

Best Bluetooth Calling Earbuds Under 2000 0r 3000 | ACwO

ACwO calling earbuds is perfect for those seeking the best earbuds for calling under 2000 or under 3000 and Experience superior sound quality with ACwO, the best earbuds for calls and music, ensuring your calls and tunes are always crisp and clear.

[worldnewsspot]

Skullcandy SLYR Pro Gaming Over-Ear Wireless Headset

In the ever-evolving world of gaming peripherals, Skullcandy has once again managed to raise the bar with its latest innovation: the Skullcandy SLYR Pro Gaming Over-Ear Wireless Headset. Designed to provide gamers with an unparalleled audio experience, this wireless headset promises to take your gaming sessions to a whole new level. Packed with cutting-edge technology and an array of impressive…

[best-earbuds-in-india]

Best Earbuds Under 500 in India 

Best Earbuds Under 500: Are You looking for Bluetooth earbuds under 500 or Wireless earbuds under 500? if Yes then Welcome to BLOGIABS. In this article, I want to share the best Quality Earbuds under the Range of 500 Rupees.

This is a very low budget to find Quality Earbuds under 500 but doesn’t worry about that here we want to share with you the best Sound Quality, Impressive Design, and the best build Quality Earbuds in this Range.

There are thousands of Earbuds available in this Range but not every Earbuds are suitable. We can deeply research for you and we can find out the top 5 best earbuds under 500 Rupees we hope that this Post will be beneficial for you and that you are fully satisfied with us.

Also, Check out our budget range Earbuds category Top 6 Best Earbuds Under 1500 (India). We are also updating our category list when new earbuds are launched with the best quality. 

[misshuntereevee]

The Winner Takes it All, part 2.

( part 1. )

Synopsis: You look like the MC, and you actually remember bits and pieces of the myth (not all.) But MC finally shows up, with no memory, and Sylus can’t help but be drawn in. What will happen?

Notes: Thank you guys so much for the love. Part 3 will be coming probably in a few days as I prepare to start a new series for Raf. However, there has been some interest in a taglist for this series. I won’t be doing this at this time, but I will keep considering. Comments, likes and reblogs are encouraged but not necessary. Enjoy the groveling. (Also don’t forget I’m not beta-read.)

Sylus knows he fucked up. The moment you were gone -- Miss Hunter ceased to exist. Multiple calls from her went unanswered. And he didn’t even wonder once if she was okay. But every moment since you’ve been gone, Sylus has been searching.

If you’re mad at him, that’s one thing. But he has a duty to you to make sure that Ever never lays a hand on you. And no matter how mad you are at him, he refuses to let that promise go. If he has to rebuild the trust… he will. Brick by brick.

But the pit in his stomach doesn’t subside when he sees you. He’s not a jealous man, never felt the need to be. But right now -- he understands he’s the closest he’s ever been to losing you. And he is feeling envy creep up into his veins.

You were flirting with the cashier. Well, he started it but you definitely were returning it. In all honesty… the attention felt nice. It had been a few weeks since you felt like you got this sort of attention.

The cashier is already blushing. “You know, I get off around -,”

“We don’t care,” a smooth voice comes from behind you, and a shiver runs down your spine. Sylus. You hate that it elicits such a reaction, but there would never be a day it didn’t. Your memories of your past life were hazy at best, but his voice — you don’t remember a single time it didn’t made you fall head over heels.

A hand comes to rest on your shoulder but with a loud huff, you yank it off spinning around. You’re angry. Passionately so. “Don’t you dare,” you hiss at him. “You don’t have a right—,”

“Keep the change,” Sylus tells the cashier, ignoring you.

The cashier looks between you both before he lets out an awkward low whistle and backs up. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not risking my life for a date with you.” And with that he leaves the customer service desk, leaving the two of you alone. You swivel around to face him, and you notice a swirl of emotions around his face.

Relief. Anger. Annoyance. Relief again. Adoration. And then finally in lands on one thing you didn’t expect —

“You were actually flirting with him,” he points out, his eyes looking… hurt somewhere underneath an accusatory jealousy. You don’t say anything. In fact, you grab the book you purchased and start walking out the door. He follows you, and you try to put your earbuds in. He takes them immediately with his Evol. You scowl at him and yank him into a nearby alleyway.

“What the hell are you doing?” You spit at him. “Leave me alone. If I wanted to talk to you, I’d answer my phone.”

A flicker of hurt crosses his face for a moment. But finally, he forces a calm look on his face. “My little bird, I know I forgot our —,”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face when you laugh loudly and bitterly. “Are you kidding me? You think that’s all I’m upset about?” He stays quiet, seeming to realize you aren’t done with him yet. In all honesty, he needs to hear what you say. Sylus knows he can’t fix anything until he knows how you’re feeling.

You frown at him before continuing: “She comes along and just because she looks like me she grabs your attention? Oh and that stupid fucking linkage bond thing ---,” How could you forget? You could resonate with him, yes, but there has never been any physical bondage connecting the two of you. That was new -- something only Miss Hunter had. And you had wondered —

Was it enough that you should doubt? Your fears were confirmed when he forgot your anniversary to take her home after a mission.

“And Ever wants you both,” he adds, his eyes narrowing. “Which was enough for me to wonder if you left… or disappeared.”

“Ha, no, more like your ego couldn’t handle that I left!” You say, poking his chest. He scowls at you. “And you know what -- I fucking remember. Does she?! I might not remember everything, but I remember! She can’t… she’ll never —”

You stop, your voice about to shake with tears. A lump forms in your throat, your chest tightening. You remember when he forced the blade through his heart. You remember slaying the dragon. And you remember the pain your past self carried -- everywhere. “Does she remember losing you like I do? However hazy it may be, she doesn’t carry that pain.”

And that’s when you turn away from him. A hand comes up, pushing tears away. “Oh, my little bird,” he murmurs behind you, his voice sounding raw. He can’t stand the fact you’re crying… over him. Self-loathing was the only thing swirling in Sylus’ red eyes right now. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I don’t forgive you. I’m not willing to fight with another version of myself for you. Go away,” you spit. You need time. And you start to walk away from him. However -- You’re only about two feet away from him when you’re yanked backwards. Something is tethering around your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stop it,” you hiss at Sylus. “Let me go!” But as you turn around completely, you can tell — this is not his Evol. You’d be able to resonate with him and make him stop. This isn’t that.

Sylus stares at it for a moment before there’s a small smirk on his face. “Well,” he says. “It looks like you’ll have to hear me out now.” A linkage.

***

“No, don’t you even start,” you say to him, staring at the link. “I’m sure if I just resonated with you — when you finally resonated with her, it went away right?”

You try to resonate with him but —

“You’re blocking it!” You accuse him. “You’re trying not to resonate with me.”

“What can I say? If my little bird flies away before I can tell her how sorry I am, that just won’t do,” he nearly purrs.

“Oh, I hate you. Stop this!”

“You have every right to be angry,” Sylus starts. Granted, you weren’t expecting that, so your response doesn’t come quickly. He keeps talking. “I admit… seeing her threw me off. But anything drawing me to her was pure curiosity, nothing more. Any other pull I felt — it felt empty. Like it belonged to you. Because it does.”

You cross your arms, pretending not to be fazed by his declarations. He leans down, gripping your chin. “You’re right, my Queen. You remember me,” he says. The other hand — the hand linked to yours by the bond — laces fingers with yours. You don’t lace them back right away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If you wish for me to never see her again, I’ll let someone else investigate her appearance for me. I have to know — for both our sakes why she’s here. Just please -- I can’t lose you. You’re right.”

“Sylus —,”

“Please. You don’t understand. These last two weeks have been — eye opening.” He lets out a deep, ragged breath. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I mean it.”

A deep breath. Your thoughts are so consumed with confusion. Because you’re also curious to why there seems to be two of you - albeit two crazily different lives. You mean, she had her life and you certainly had yours.

But you also missed him. Your dragon. And the look on his face. You found it remarkable how this crime boss of a man could look like a kicked puppy, begging for forgiveness. And you absolutely hate how much you’re softening. How much you’re still attracted and pulled to him.

“Mhm. Fine. Come back tomorrow and apologize again just as passionately… and I’ll think about it,” you finally say.

His mouth opens and closes. “My little bird — okay. If that’s what you want.” And he takes your hand, ready to resonate and undo the linkage so he can leave you for the night. Sylus doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to give you a single chance to overthink it and -- not forgive him. But he also knows -- if he pushes this, he could lose you forever.

The glow of resonating begins — but nothing happens. Your heart drops. It’s not working. So… it wasn’t Sylus that was holding it together. A brief moment of confusion flits across his face.

He remembers what the scientists had told him when he failed to resonate with the hunter. That they wouldn’t be able to resonate because she was disgusted and angry with him. And in striking clarity -- he knows for a fact that it’s not him holding them back from resonating like he previously thought. It’s you.

“What’s happening?” You says, seeming a little panicked as the bond only tightens the more you try to pull away. In fact, the link tightens so much that you stumble forward into his arms. The more you try to get away from him, the closer you get.

“Hm.” Sylus says, staring at it. He’s currently trying to make sure he isn’t smiling -- this might be a small win, and he knows he has more opportunities to remedy your relationship. “I have a theory.”

“Okay -- so spill,” you say, your eyes widening at him. “I have work tomorrow, and I can’t bring you with me! You’re a crime boss!”

“We’re linked because you’re mad at me,” he finally says. “Or disgusted. Or --- you hate me.” He almost can’t get the words out. Because you can’t. You can’t hate him. There is so much he never got to do with you. You blink at him several times before it clicks -- you’re both bonded until he can fix what he broke.

[heich0e]

ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.

it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.

but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.

shouto.

you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.

your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.

so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.

and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.

peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.

"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"

in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.

"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."

you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.

"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."

you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.

"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.

shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.

"how are you feeling?" he asks.

"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.

"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.

"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"

"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.

and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.

"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.

"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."

"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.

shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.

"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.

shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."

"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.

"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."

you laugh, and then cough a little.

"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.

"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.

"what?" you ask him curiously.

in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.

"sho-shouto! wait!"

he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.

"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.

"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."

you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.

shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.

you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.

[navybrat817]

Kneel for Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You're done with work, and Bucky is eager to have you.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, porn with very little plot, oral sex (m. receiving, f. implied), implied unprotected v. sex (wrap it before you tap it!), dirty talk, bit of fluff, established relationship, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: @fckmebarnes gave me permission to run with this post. I appreciate you, my lovely! Also submitting this for @avengers-assemble-bingo Kinky Bingo (prompt - "kneel for me"). ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your desk chair and sighed. Work was finally done for the day. You could sign off, relax, and have that movie night with Bucky. It worried him that you'd work a little over since it had been busy, but you thankfully didn’t have to worry about getting trapped at the office or dealing with traffic. You ended your week at 40 hours and not a second more.

“I’m done! I’m free!” you called out, frowning when you took your earbuds out and left the office. The place was quiet. Bucky didn’t keep the television or music too loud anyway thanks to his sharp hearing, but you didn’t hear a sound. Maybe he decided to take a quick nap or read while he waited for you. He was also stealthy as hell and could’ve moved around the place without drawing attention.

As if Bucky read your thoughts, he let out a moan from the living room. The sound was so sexy that you stopped in your tracks. It didn’t matter if Bucky Barnes moaned, growled, whimpered, gasped, each sound was a blessing and erotic music to your ears. Not only that, it was your name that he moaned.

Suffice to say your panties were already damp when you found the strength to walk again.

“Bucky?” you asked, locking eyes with him once you made it to the living room.

Your beautiful god of man sat naked on the couch, his metal arm draped over the back as his eyes slid up and down your body. Shivering under his heated stare and watching as the blue of his eyes faded to a small ring around the blown pupils, you stood mesmerized as he spread his legs more. He was like a king, powerful, imposing, commanding. And everything about the man was big; thick thighs, broad torso, ripped arms, and a massive cock that he lazily stroked.

Doing your best not to drool, you couldn’t help the whimper you let out. He was so hard, so big, and it was all for you. Another pair of panties thoroughly ruined thanks to him, the way he always ruined you.

“Finally.” The husk in his voice made you shiver again. “Hope you don’t mind that I started without you.”

Knowing him, he likely counted down the seconds until you signed off. “You don’t plan to finish without me, do you?” you asked, starting to strip down. He licked his lips at the sight of you and groaned when your breasts spilled free. It didn’t matter how many times he saw you naked, it was always like he was seeing you for the first time. If anything you felt more confident in your body thanks to him.

“I plan to finish in or on you. Maybe both. Figured I’d start with your mouth,” he smirked, nodding to the floor. He already had a pillow waiting for you, not wanting your knees to feel sore. The thoughtful gesture spread more heat through you and made your heart race. He was also thoughtful enough to put a towel underneath himself to not get the couch dirty. “How badly do you wanna suck my cock? Dyin’ to get your pretty lips wrapped around me.”

You whimpered again. You loved this sexual side of your man, unafraid of being vocal. Intimacy and trust had taken time, and it was worth every second. He was worth every second.

“Before I even think about sucking your cock, are you even going to ask how the rest of work was?” you teased, tossing your ruined underwear at him once they were off.

He caught them easily and let out an obscene moan when he put them to his nose and mouth. Your exhale was shaky as he moaned again into them and stroked himself faster. “How was the rest of work?” he asked against the fabric. “Fucking Christ, these are soaked. You smell so good. This all for me?”

“It’s always for you,” you said, tempted to dip your hand between your legs and touch yourself like he was doing. “And work was fine.” He would've known if it was anything other than fine since he liked to check on you.

“You work so hard, sweetheart. You deserve a reward,” he smirked, setting the underwear aside. “So I’ll ask again- How badly do you want to suck my cock?”

Watching him smear the precum around the tip with his thumb, it was a feat you hadn’t dropped right to your knees. “Enough to beg for it,” you admitted. Who wouldn’t want to suck his cock? Who wouldn’t beg for him?

“I won’t make you beg. I’ll give it to you,” he promised, beckoning you forward with a metal finger. He’d get you off, too, since he was a giving partner like that.

You strode toward him naked, confident. Before you could drop to your knees, he lunged forward and gripped the back of your head. His mouth met yours when your lips parted, swallowing down your gasp. Pliant and eager, you allowed him to take control when his tongue plunged in and didn’t stop him when the metal hand slid from the back of your head to your front.

“You’re addicting,” he breathed, making you gasp again when he brushed his thumb across a hardened nipple. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

Your throat went dry at the raw desire in his eyes, wishing you could form a coherent response. After everything he experienced, he deserved to have whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was you. It still made your head spin.

“Oh, yeah? Then how badly do you want me to suck your cock?” you asked.

“Enough to beg for it,” he replied, repeating your words. He’d get on his knees if you asked, something he’d never do for anyone else.

“I won’t make you beg. I’ll give it to you,” you smiled, repeating his words back in turn.

He let out a sharp breath. “Kneel for me,” he ordered, something tender in his gaze when you obediently dropped to your knees. Bringing a hand to your cheek, your skin warmed under his touch. “You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart.”

Your heart thudded against your chest. “You’re beautiful.” Bucky was a work of art that some higher being deemed too perfect in creation and gave him scars to take that perfection away. It only made him more beautiful in your eyes. You wanted him to see how much you wanted him, wanted him to feel it in his heart.

“Show me with your mouth how beautiful you think I am,” he whispered.

You’d show him that, and how much you loved him and more.

Gently batting his hand away, you replaced it with yours and gripped the base. Your walls clenched, wanting to feel that thickness inside you, but you'd be patient. Breathing over the head of his cock and gazing up at him, you pressed a kiss to it and licked the drop of precum from your lips. The flavor exploded on your tongue, taking over the way he always took over.

He groaned and bucked his hips slightly, demanding more of your mouth when you sucked the head in and didn’t go further. You wanted to tease him a little, but relented and took a bit more in. “Feels so good. Your mouth is perfect. All of your holes are perfect,” he growled, putting a hand on your head again but not pushing you down. “And they’re just for me.”

You moaned, swallowing as much of him down as you could at his possessive tone. The first time you went down on him your eyes watered when he hit the back of your throat, but now your throat relaxed and made room for him. He carved out a home for himself in every part of you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his thrusts shallow at first as he held you in place. “Should take a picture and show you how pretty you look with my cock shoved down your throat.”

You keened and let him glide along your tongue, your clit throbbing and hole clenching. He could take as many pictures as he wanted. And squeezing his thigh, you silently gave him permission to use you, to take what he wanted. As if he didn’t get that message loud and clear, you gave his heavy balls a gentle squeeze, too.

His control snapped.

You whined and looked up at him. You had to be a sight to behold, your lips stretched around his girth, saliva seeping from the corners of your mouth, a little shine in your eyes. And him? His cheeks rosier than usual, eyes half lidded, mouth parted as he panted. He was on the verge of ecstasy. That was what you did to each other.

“That’s it. That’s my girl. Take it,” he praised, pushing faster, deeper. You breathed through your nose and tried to bring a hand between your legs to relieve yourself, but you froze when he narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you fucking dare. That’s my pussy, and I’m getting you off after this.”

You whined again. Of course he would. But if your pussy was his, then his cock was yours and you were going to show him that.

You dragged your tongue along one of his veins, knowing how insane it drove him, before you bobbed your head at an almost punishing pace. “Gonna make me come,” he groaned to warn you, but you didn’t let up. You wanted to make him come just like this. Down your throat or on your face, it didn’t matter. You wanted him to claim you as much as you were claiming him.

His cock pulsed and he trembled before he grunted your name. His eyes nearly rolled back when his hips stuttered, lost in the heat of your mouth as he came. The taste of him hit your tongue before he pulled you off, hardly giving you a chance to suck in a breath or swallow as the rest of his release splashed on your lips and chin. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d finish in and on you.

You felt debauched, owned, and perfect.

“So fucking beautiful,” he panted, smearing his taste across your lip with his thumb before you sucked it into your mouth. “And so greedy,” he teased.

“It’s your fault,” you said, your voice raspy before he brought a bottle of water to your lips. Of course he had that beside him. You would’ve noticed if you hadn’t been so occupied by the sight of him jerking off.

“Glad I could get you addicted to me,” he smiled, leaning forward once you had enough to drink. It was true. Bucky Barnes was an addiction. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern suddenly etched on his handsome face.

You smiled when his fingertips skimmed your throat. As insatiable as he was, he never wanted you sore or uncomfortable. “More than okay,” you promised. You would’ve given him a sign if you weren’t, and he would’ve picked up on any discomfort.

“Wasn’t too much?” he pressed just to be sure.

“Never,” you promised, kissing his lips. He would never be too much for you.

He sighed into the kiss. “Then come here.”

“What are you…” Your eyes widened when he made you straddle him, keeping you hovered over his cock. He was still hard. Or was he hard again? Damn super soldier and his stamina.

“Told you I’d get my pussy off. Not about to leave any of your holes empty tonight,” he smirked, rubbing the head along your wet walls and licking the remainder of his release from your chin. “After I’m done fucking you, you can sit on my face.”

You shuddered and gripped his shoulders when he kissed the corner of your mouth, desperately wanting him to fill you up and have his stubble leave a delicious burn once he feasted. “We aren’t watching movies tonight, are we?”

“No, but this is much more fun.” You had to agree. “Now take a seat because we aren’t done by a long shot.”

Hope you lovelies enjoyed! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

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