Neighbor - Tumblr Posts
the chopin compromise // pjm
summary - jimin has had it with you and your loud ass music, he finally snapped
paring - single dad!jimin x female!reader
genre - fluff; neighbor au
prompt - enemies to lovers
word count - 535
warnings - reader is a bit of an asshole, but that’s about it
authors note - another one for the ghostie marathon!! kinda hard to fit an enemies to lovers kinda thing into under 1.5k but i think this worked out pretty nice
“Shhh shh, hey it’s okay! Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here.” Jimin cooed over his wailing daughter, Ara. Picking her up, he slowly bounced her in his arms, trying to sooth her. Jimin glared at the wall that he shared with you, his noisy neighbor.
You moved in a few weeks ago and you had a habit of blasting loud rock music at late hours, not caring at all about your neighbors. He’s only ever met you once, and that was the morning after you had first started blasting music. He had knocked on your door to welcome you into the building but also to politely request that you turn down your music as it was disturbing. Jimin had hoped you would’ve been understanding, seeing how you were new and didn’t want to make a bad first impression. Instead, you rolled your eyes and told him to get earplugs if it bugged him that much, then slammed the door in his face. Ever since, it felt like you were playing the music even louder just to spite him.
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The Garden Thief (M)
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Word Count: 9.3K Genre: Hybrid AU, romance/drama/comedy, enemies to lovers Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (fem. rec.), they get down and dirty outside but no one else is there to see them, cum play? (just a little), there’s also a bit of mud (sorry, but also not sorry, they’re outside what do you want from me?!?!), referenced hybrid neglect and oppression (hybrids are wrongfully deemed as pets by law and the majority of society).
Summary: Your beloved vegetable patch has once again been victimized by a hungry thief in the night. The prime suspect? Jeon Jungkook, your neighbour’s rabbit hybrid. But when you finally confront him, he pleads innocent, and proposes a plan to clear his name.
A/N: I wrote this fic’s premise and opening scene for the ‘A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words Game’ that I played oh so long ago and now I’ve finally finished the tale!
…
“Oh for fuck’s sake, not again!” You swear upon seeing the leafy green remains of several carrots lying in your garden, inches from where they used to be buried. This maddening mystery of the vanishing vegetables has been playing out all summer. You’ve set out deterrents for every possible garden pest, rolling out chicken wire and spraying natural remedies to repel anything from bugs to small rodents. Yet you still wake to find that your garden has been robbed in the night. The only possible suspect you haven’t been able to protect against resides just next door, in fact—
You squint up at the boarded fence, spotting a pair of long dark ears peeking out over the posts. “Jungkook, is that you?”
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Prelude | MYG
Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Genre: angst, fluff, comfort, non-Idol!AU
Rating: T
Warnings: mentions of a break-up, mentions of loneliness
Word Count: 1.9k
Disclaimers: None other than obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me
Summary: You're all alone in your new city, save for the handsome man you keep seeing around your neighborhood, and the mysterious pianist who lives upstairs.
A/N: I wrote this back in November and then just let it sit for a while, thinking I might add more. But now I think I like it as a short one-shot, so here it is, in time for Yoongi's b-day! The inspiration came from this tweet:
Tell me hoooooooooooow I wrote a letter to the pianist upstairs and said how much I love hearing them play and they came downstairs to thank me ONLY TO FIND OUT IT WAS THE CUTE DUDE I KEEP BUMPING INTO?!?!
Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕
Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜
It's your third night in your new apartment when you hear it.
Hushed at first, then gradually growing louder as the song crescendos–someone is playing the piano. The music swirls around you, and you sit up in your bed, the book you were reading resting on your lap as you crane your neck to better hear the enchanting melody drifting down through the ceiling above.
It happens again the next evening. And the one after that. Almost nightly, you find yourself the unwitting audience for a performance from the pianist who lives upstairs. You can't help but wonder if that was the reason the previous tenant was so eager to break their lease, allowing you to move in sooner than you'd originally planned. Most people might not enjoy a near daily private concert.
You aren't most people.
It's never the same song twice. One night, it's a buoyant contemporary piece that you identify as the theme song to a prestigious arthouse film. The next, it's a mournful classical solo that has you nearly weeping into your dinner. Your mystery performer's talent and range astound you, and you feel fortunate to hear every note.
Maybe it's a good omen. A sign that you've made the right decision coming here to the big city, striking a tiny chord of hope within you that there may be more amazing discoveries just waiting to be found.
A month after you've moved in, you are still finding your way around. You've taken to wandering the streets on early morning walks, trying to orient yourself better. Earbuds replace the hustle and bustle of the city with the soothing sounds of classical music, a new interest that you directly link to your unseen neighbor's recitals. Each day, you watch the sun rise over your new hometown to the stirring strings of a symphony, letting the orchestra carry you away.
As much as you like your new place, you're rather lonely. Your coworkers at your new job are nice, but most live outside the city and don't stick around after hours, commuting home to their families as soon as the work day ends. The only person you know here is your boyfriend, but he's so busy that you've only seen him a handful of times. The two of you had been doing the long-distance thing for over a year, and while your job is what lured you here, he is the reason you ultimately decided to accept the position.
A new movement begins, a minuet that has you stepping quickly in time with the music. Humming along under your breath, you round a corner, heading back to your apartment, and promptly collide with something. No, someone. A minty-haired man, not much taller than you, slender, with the loveliest dark eyes you've ever seen.
And the most intimidating scowl that makes you immediately apologize.
"I'm so sorry!" you gasp, as the man releases his tight grip on your arms. One glance at your fretful expression and his face relaxes. He almost looks sleepy now as he peers at you, and you try not to stare, awestruck by how gorgeous he is.
"S'alright," he mumbles, "no worries. Wasn't watching where I was going, sorry." The corner of his mouth twitches as he gives you the tiniest of smiles, but it's enough to ease your mind. "Have a good day, ok?" he calls over his shoulder as he passes by, and you smile too late at his retreating figure before shaking yourself and heading on your way.
You see him again a few weeks later, queuing in line at this little coffee shop you'd discovered a few blocks from your place. It's sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a bank, easily overlooked in a city where the big chains are located on every other corner. He's ahead of you, and when he turns to leave, he spots you and inclines his head, lips curling slightly in recognition. You nod back.
He's at the diner where you eat your lunches on the weekend, sitting in the window, watching the crowds roll by. He's at the basement bookstore where you load your basket with more books than a person could possibly need. You notice him all over your neighborhood, that pretty hair catching your eye like a beacon, reminding you of spring and new beginnings, and every time there is a nod or little smile offered, you accept each one eagerly.
He's technically a stranger, but the gesture still makes you feel seen. A little less alone.
"You're breaking up with me?"
You don't mean to yell the words, but you're caught by surprise. When you'd answered the phone, you’d expected to hear a lame explanation from your boyfriend as to why he was over an hour late to pick you up - traffic was awful (it was always awful in this city), or he had to stay late to close that big sale (he was always working late), or any one of the other million flimsy excuses he seemed to rotate through lately.
But you hadn't expected him to break your heart.
You beg him to reconsider, but he ignores your pleas, telling you that it's been over between you for a long time, that it was so evident to him long before you'd moved here. But it wasn't evident to you. Lying on your bed as you bawl into your phone, you don't notice when the music above you stops, the peppy, upbeat composition breaking off mid-note.
"I just don't understand. I love you! I thought you loved me! But you couldn't even break up with me in person? After all we've been through?" you howl, nearly beside yourself with despair. More words flow from your boyfriend's mouth, but you don't hear any of them as you try and fail to understand. It's several minutes before you realize that he said goodbye one last time.
The room fills with the sound of you sobbing your heart out.
And then the piano begins again. It's not the same bubbly tune from earlier. Softly, tender notes fall like gentle rain, cascading down upon you. Your tears slowly subside, and you inhale a shuddery breath as you focus on the melody. Thanks to your morning walks, you recognize this one. Arabesque No. 1, by Debussy. It's your favorite of his works, even more cherished than the much-loved Clair de Lune.
The pianist upstairs has no way of knowing that it's your favorite, but you can't help but feel like they do. Like they're playing it just for you. Tonight, you're not the audience by default, but by choice. Their choice.
Your breathing begins to even as you lie on top of your blankets, listening intently. You are wrung out, exhausted, but cannot help but lose yourself in rhapsody. The pianist plays so delicately, almost lovingly, and you imagine their fingers dancing lithely over the keys as your eyes flutter shut, the peaceful sonata lulling you to sleep.
Weeks pass. The performances go on. And slowly but surely, you begin to heal.
Hindsight is perfectly clear, of course. Looking back, you see that the distance between you and your ex was more than just physical. And it really was obvious. Just as obvious as the fact that you are now completely alone.
Yet that tiny chord of hope still rings within you, sustained by the music floating from above. Day by day, week by week, you keep moving forward, putting your ex behind you as you truly start anew.
You make friends with another recent hire at work who lives just a subway stop away. A neighbor down the hall introduces herself in the elevator, and by the time you've reached the lobby, you've been invited to her weekly book club. The man with the light green hair is still hanging around your periphery, a few casually exchanged hellos encouraging you enough to ponder asking him to coffee someday-not today, but someday.
The chord swells. It's no longer just a few notes. It becomes a measure, a verse. A song.
And you realize it all started with the first strike of the piano above.
Though you have no idea who lives upstairs, you decide that they should know how much you appreciate them. You need them to know. So, you dig out some old stationery buried deep in your desk, and you write them a letter.
Unsure of what to say at first, you start by thanking them for their captivating performances, stating how lucky you are to have moved in so close to such a talented musician. Before you know it, you've told them how their music has given you hope when you needed it the most. Anonymity emboldens you, allowing you to spill your heart without fear of being too earnest, too vulnerable.
Once it's finished and you've signed it "your neighbor," you trek upstairs and slip it under their door before you can lose your nerve.
The next morning, there is a rap at your door.
You peek through the peephole and draw back in disbelief. It's the handsome minty-haired man from all your favorite neighborhood haunts. Why is he here?
"Can I help you?" you call out.
"Uh, yeah," he replies, his low, rich voice surprising you. "You wrote this letter, right?" He holds up a piece of paper, which you immediately identify as your stationery.
You open the door so quickly, he jumps in alarm.
"You," he breathes, as recognition sweeps over him. "I didn't know you lived here."
"You live upstairs?" you ask timidly. His dark eyes examine you from beneath his shaggy hair. Long fingers clutch your letter, and you can't help but stare at them, thinking about how they must look as they caress the keys of his piano.
"Yeah. Hi. I'm Yoongi," he introduces himself.
You give your name, then pause. "So... how did you know I wrote that?"
"Process of elimination. No one has moved in on my floor in over a year. And little old Ms. Choi above me has told me multiple times that she turns her hearing aids off at night, so she can enjoy some peace and quiet," he informs you, flashing a smile that is all gums and rather endearing. “She says she means that to be encouraging, that I can play as loud as I want.”
Not knowing how to respond, you remain silent.
"I just wanted to thank you," he declares, glancing at the letter. "The things you said about how I play... how it made you feel...." He turns his gaze on you, regarding you carefully before he finishes his thought. "I, uh, don't get a lot of opportunities to perform for any audiences. So to know there's someone listening, and actually enjoying my playing, is amazing." He laughs, a shy chuckle that pleases your ear as much as any sonata he's ever played. "It made me feel seen. Or I guess heard. Damn, I don't know if I'm making any sense. Do you know what I mean?" His expression is so earnest that you feel your heart seize up.
You nod. You absolutely understand.
That gummy smile returns.
"Anyway, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciated it." He rubs the back of his neck, looking down. "Maybe some time, I could play for you? In person, I mean. Not through the walls."
"Okay," you answer, not hesitating, making his head snap up. He grins, and you can't help but do the same. "But do you want to start with coffee first? I know a great little place."
© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.
Question: how did you become a cannibal?
I was hungry
I couldn't stop laughing for almost 4days
Derek have just fucked my wife Carol and is enjoying a can of cold beer and a nice cuban cigar — one of those I had got as a birthday present. He moved into the house next door a few weeks ago. I immediately felt his superiority over me. Being 6'5" tall hunk he easily dwarfed my small 5'7" frame.
He easily took control over my house and my life. He got his own set of keys to my home and made me move into guest bedroom. Now, only he has a privilege to sleep with Carol. I tried to protest at first but Derek quickly showed me my place.
First he was just making me suck his cock — it was humiliating but it didn’t hurt that much. But two weeks ago Carol was having a girl night with her friends and Derek was horny as always. He made me get naked and then started making fun of me. He teased me and made me worship his massive body as he always did. But then he picked me up and brought up to the master bedroom. He threw me on the bed and laid down atop of me, pressing me with his whole mass. He then lubed my ass and thrusted his fleshy cock inside of me. It hurt, hurt so much I actually cried. But the worst was to lose the last part of masculinity I had and in addition it all happened on my own bed, the bed where I used to have sex with my wife. But it was in the past — in the old times when I used to be a man of the house.
I was on my morning walk when I saw my neighbor Cody. I hadn’t seen him often after I left for college. He was four years younger than me and I remembered him as a small child that would always follow me and my friends, whenever we wanted to go. But now I was shocked. There was a grown man standing in front of me. He must’ve been only 18 but looking at his tonned dark haired body and thick stubble on his face, it was me who seemed more like a child now.
“Hey, long time no see”, I approached him. “Do you need any help?”
“No, thanks. Don’t think there would be much help from you”, he turned away putting the pumpkins on his truck.
“Hmm, sorry? What do you mean?”
He turned around and made a few steps to me. Being only 5’7” I had to look up at him. He was easily half a foot taller than me now. Cody raised his arm and flexed it, revealing a ripe bush in his armpit. The smell of his sweat hit my nostrils. It felt so good. It felt like a smell of a real man.
“You see that bicep, boy?” he didn’t stop looking into my eyes. “Touch it. I know you want it”
“I don’t understand what you’re talk…”
“I said TOUCH IT” he repeated calmly but with authority in his voice.
I obeyed. I grabbed his bicep with both of my hands. It was hard like a rock.
“Now squeeze it”
I tried but I couldn’t do anything. His muscles were strong as granite. “I can’t”
“Try harder”
I put all my efforts but he just laughed.
“You’re so pathetic, boy” Cody put his free hand on my neck. “I’ve just turned eighteen but I’m already more of a man than you’ll ever be”. His hand started to tighten around my throat.
I grabbed his forearm and tried to pull his arm off. “Please, stop”
“Hahah, you’re afraid?” Cody again raised his arm, this time above his head, and pressed my face into his hairy armpit with the help of his orther hand.
“Mhmm!..” I struggled to get free from that trap but he was too strong.
“Sniff on that smell. Taste it” he rubbed my face in the bush in his pit.
Cody than grabbed me by hear and pulled my head off, “You enjoyed it?”
I just nodded with embarrassment on my face. I now smelled like Cody — I was now owned by him.
As the next, he pressed my face into his chest and his other hand wandered down my back and into my underwear. He squeezed my ass and then I felt his finger pounding agains my asshole.
“No, please” I tried to mumble with my face rubbed against his meaty cheast.
But Cody didn’t hear that or didn’t want to hear. He continued pressing against my whole until it slipped inside. Fuck. He started fucking me with his middle finger. My cock started stiffening. Deep inside I knew I liked it. My head reached down to touch my penis but instead I felt Cody’s other finger getting inside of me and my hand involuntarily reached down to my ass.
Than I felt how my feet left the ground and his fingers got even deeper inside of me. He cared me to the open door of his truck and thrown me inside on the seat. In a moment he pulled my shorts off leaving me only in my briefs.
But it wasn’t like that for a long. Cody reached down and ripped my white briefs into two. He grabbed my legs and raised them. With one hand he his pants down. His meaty shaft jumped out pointing up.
“Noo! Please, don’t do that!” I started begging him, knowing what was about to happen.
“I’ve always seen how you’ve been looking at other guys. Even back then I knew you was a fag”, he pulled me closer to him. I could now feel the tip of his penis at my entrance. “Now it’s time to show you what a real man can do to such a fag as you”
He thrusted his cock into me and started moving it in and out of my boy pussy. It hurt. Tears started to run down my face. I wasn’t sure I would be able to hold it any longer. But then he pulled his cock out. For a moment I felt so empty but then he thrusted even more deep into into me. It continued for some time. I felt his member growing inside of me and the whole time felt like eternity.
Cody was getting faster and then I felt my butt cheeks touch his abs. He got all into me and stopped. Then I felt around half a dozen of loads shooting inside of me. He filled me with his warm cum.
With his cock still in me, Cody opened the glove compartment and grabbed something from there. Then he slowly pulled his cock out of me. Again I felt that sense of emptiness. I wanted to have him back inside of me. Instead I felt something being plugged into my hole. It was the butt plug that he took from the compartment.
He picked my shorts from the ground and thrown them on me. “Gonna see you at my place this evening”, he looked at me as I was getting out of the passenger seat and pulling my shorts on. “And you better don’t try to take that thing out of your ass, boy”, he gave me a goodbye slap on my ass
Phasmophobia
we got the wrong house
La Squadra and a friendly oblivious neighbor who cooks for them
We know that La Squadra doesn't have fair payment and with my previous thoughts about how much Risotto usually eats, they are probably struggling with food sometimes (Leader, your muscles need too much energy)
Living on energy drinks and instant noodles aren't good for you especially when you gotta go out and kill somebody.
Their base is in a cheaper part of the town and it's shady so no one really wants to be around there. They're mostly by themselves.
Until one day, they have a neighbor. They secretly check on the person to make sure they're not a threat.
They turn out to be a harmless civilian. So they leave them be and go on with their lives.
That is - when they smell freshly cooked food coming from the house, they have their attention. When was the last time they get to eat nice homemade food?
Formaggio shows up at the neighbour's door, acting like a good friendly neighbor all at once. He's pretty good with words and thinks he might get a bite or two. No harm getting to know them more huh?
The neighbour is more than willing to give him a big slice of pie. Formaggio swears he wants to kiss them.
Formaggio acts like a messenger for a while. The neighbor hasn't met all of them but learns that there are many men living in the house. So they give them more food.
If the neighbor can get pregnant, Melone will show up next to see if they can be his potential 'mother'
The neighbour is taken aback by how thin this guy looks and gives him lots and lots of foods.
The neighbor notice a lot of empty bottles of boozes outside their doors and start to feel concern.
One time, one of them is so drunk out of their mind. He gets a good chicken soup for their hungover.
Illuso likes to snoop around their house through the mirror world and steals a bite of foods before anyone else.
The neighbor feels a sense of safety when they meet Prosciutto. He seems like a well-respect reliable business man! Why is he here is beyond their understanding. But they are also here because of the cheap renting too.
They can cook traditional food that Prosciutto asks and he gives them gifts in return.
Pesci once met them on the street carrying bags of groceries. He helps them out and got sweets as a treat.
The neighbor has heard of angry shouting from the house for a while but is so surprised to see the voice owner. They imagine him with more... 'fiery look'
They call out for him and say they have something to give to them: it's a honey lemon😂😂 Ghiaccio is offended because he thinks they want him to quiet down or that his throat will be sore from shouting.
When they met the leader who thanks them personally for providing them delicious food, they gawk at the massive man for a long while and thought 'OMg Formaggio should have mention that he has a friend this big! A big man like this needs calories!'
La squadra notices that their portion of food is more than usual after that. They start to feel like they need to pay them. It's too much to ask for.
No one touches this neighbor or their heads will roll.
You can imagine it as shipping but I adore the idea of the neighbor being an old retired lady with a poor eyesight. She has cooked her whole life so it's muscle memory for her. She feels happy to be able to cook for these fine young men and cares for them like sons she never has.
La Squadra is now helping her with walking and even sometimes slip banknotes into her drawers. Not too much that she will notice.
Part 2?
My neighbor either summons a demon or throwing a really good party Maybe both
Next door
Pairing: dilf!neighbor!Jungkook x fem!reader (JK is 38, age gap is 14 years)
released: 18.03.24
Summary: For helping you move all your new furniture in, he wanted a reward.
Warnings: blowjob (in front of a mirror), age gap, dilf Jeon, degradation, neighbor jungkook, not proofread!!
Wc: 500+
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“You filthy little whore,” Jungkook grunts, “you like having my cock in your dirty mouth?”
You pull away and look up to him, “Yes, I like having you in my mouth.”
Jungkook let’s out a chuckle and caress your cheek, “Show me how much you love it, make me cum.”
You start sucking the tip and massage his balls at the same time, he lets out a grunt, “fuck,”
It doesn’t take long for you to go further, you take him in your mouth and what can’t find in your mouth, you stroke it.
Jungkook looks down, “fuck, look at you. Lookin’ so pretty taking my cock in your mouth.” He grips your hair and starts bobbing your head at a faster pace, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”
You gag as the tip hits the back of your throat, tears spring free, “tsk look at you, already crying.” He mocks you, “is it too much? Little girl can’t take it?” He devilishly laughs.
He purposely goes faster, more tears streaming down your face. You grip his muscular thighs in order to now lose your balance.
He takes notice of that and stops moving your head, instead he keeps it in one place. His large hands on each side of your face, he starts fucking your mouth nice and slow.
You look up to him, the pleasure is written all over his face. He licks his lips and looks down at you, he goes faster. Thrusting his hips in and out of your mouth.
The tears don’t stop. He looks ahead and smirks at the sight.
A large mirror is behind you. Jungkook moans at the sight. You kneeling down taking his dick so good and him snapping his hips against your mouth.
He bites his lips and starts moving your head again while still thrusting. Your mouth and his hips meeting halfway. The sounds you’re making, turn him even more one.
“You like getting your throat fucked by your neighbor?”
You moan to answer his question, sending vibrations down his dick (?) he lowly chuckles, “yeah, you slut, did you think I don’t see the way you check me out through your window, huh?”
You got caught.
Who wouldn’t ogle at that sexy man? He has his curtains open and walks around shirtless, showing his toned stomach and abs. His six pack is so defined. Who wouldn’t look at him? Especially if he was your neighbor? You can’t be blamed.
You close your eyes in embarrassment but don’t stop sucking him off, “open your eyes, pretty.”
You obey, “good girl.” He praises you.
“Shit, im gonna c—“ he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he spurts out his seeds down your throat.
He takes his cock out and taps the tip on your lips, “open up, pretty.”
He smirks as you open your mouth, “swallow.” He commands. You do, feeling the hot seeds go down your throat.
Surprisingly it tastes…… good.
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Do NOT copy or translate
Thank you for reading 💕
Masterlist
Its been weeks in quarantine and it was the first time i saw my neighbor Mike since.
We just bumped together outside while putting out garbage. I was very surprised to see how big Mike had become and not just muscular, he'd gotten like a foot in height and we used to be the same height.
I asked him how, then he lifted his shirt and said maybe after quarantine when i'm bigger with a very wide grin.
