1-800-TOUCHME | min yoongi x reader
PAIRING: ex!yoongi x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: you swore you wouldn't answer. not after the breakup, not after months of silence, and certainly not when he texts you out of nowhere with that same dry, smug confidence that always got under your skin. But before you know it, you're on the phone with him, falling into familiar habits of unresolved tension and built up desire.
CONTENT: phone sex, praise, “good girl”, mutual masturbation, exes to lovers in a way
AUTHORS NOTE: woah look who’s back..????? left for half a year and came back with a new fav group, expect a LOT of bts fics from now on!! i hope you guys didn’t forget about me haha.. SORRYYYYY
YOONGI was always dry, subtle, a little smug, like he knew exactly how to get under your skin but never said it directly. Apparently, that hadn’t changed even after the breakup.
If anything, it made it worse.
There was something about his quiet confidence, like he never felt the need to prove himself, that pulled you in every single time.
This time was no different. It was 2:38 in the morning as you laid in bed with a restless boredom. The air was still and quiet, as if your surroundings were anticipating a sudden snap. It was the calm before the storm, the kind of silence that made every noise feel dangerous.
A high pitched ‘ding!’ went off on your phone as you snapped your head over to locate the noise. Of course the culprit was none other than Yoongi, the same boy you swore you wouldn’t let back in no matter how smooth he talked.
couldn’t sleep, thinkin bout u
Despite everything, your stomach flipped instantly. It was pathetic, really, how two simple texts from him could still do that to you.
You stared at the screen longer than necessary, thumb hovering over the keyboard as you weighed your options. This was a bad idea, embarrassingly bad.
Which was probably why you replied anyway.
why are you texting me at almost 3 am?
It wasn’t long before your message switched from delivered to read, almost as if he’d been waiting for your reply. Not even a minute after, you heard that familiar notification sound from your phone once again.
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. He couldn’t be serious right now
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then came right back.
i am, couldn’t get u off my mind
‘After all this time,’ you thought, ‘after everything?’ Your mind wandered to your breakup, the moment you felt the world slipping out of your hands. You promised to always be there for eachother, but you never expected it to be like this.
Your heart dropped after hitting send, but even more after seeing his response.
u act like i ever stopped
His words hit you harder than you wanted to admit. You found yourself craving more than just pixels on a screen. You needed something greater, something real.
Fingers moving faster than your brain, you quickly typed out another message.
You stared the message sending, heart thudding against your ribs. One phone call, that was all. Nothing extreme, just a simple conversation to process everything unfolding right infront of you.
The phone rang almost instantly, and your stomach tightened in the same familiar way it used to. It was bittersweet realizing how easily he could still affect you. As your finger hurriedly tapped the green accept button, your voice caught in your throat.
“You took forever,” he murmured the second you answered
His voice was lower than you remembered. Rough around the edges with sleep, dangerous even. Still, you couldn’t pull yourself out of the trance he’d placed on you.
You grumbled, half upset and half snarky, “You’re one to talk.”
A low chuckle sounded from the other line. The sound settled deep in your chest in a painfully familiar way. No matter how much of a front you tried to put up, your body never lied.
“Yeah, alright,” Yoongi remarked, “So how have you been? You dont text anymore.”
You let out a quiet scoff, shifting onto your side as you stared at the dim ceiling above you. “That usually happens when people break up, Yoongi.”
That was all he gave at first. A low hum against the speaker, calm and unreadable in the way that always used to drive you insane. Then suddenly, his deep voice cut through the phone once again, “Still could’ve texted.”
Your chest tightened embarrassingly fast, the way it would back when the two of you were together.
“You could’ve texted too.” You shot back, partially upset over the lack of contact.
Another pause followed. You could hear faint rustling on his end, sheets moving around as if he’d finally settled deeper into bed. The image formed too easily in your mind: messy dark hair, sleepy eyes, arm tucked behind his head as he spoke like this was the most casual thing in the world.
“Thought about it,” he admitted quietly.
Your fingers curled tighter around your phone. Every conversation with him felt dangerous, as if he was pulling you in like a siren to sea, “Then why didn’t you?”
For a second, all you heard was his breathing. Slow, steady, and somehow causing every nerve in your body to tense up. As you waited for his answer in nervousness, part of you, deep down, was hopeful for his response.
“Didn’t think you’d answer.”
The honesty in his voice caught you off guard enough to leave you silent. Yoongi noticed immediately. Of course he did, he always does.
A faint chuckle slipped through the speaker as he spoke up. “What?”
“Nothing.” you mumbled quickly, but you were a mess. His response sat deep in your heart, a place you didn’t know still existed.
Heat crept up your neck at the way he said it. Soft, amused, like he still knew you better than anyone else. You swallowed hard before forcing yourself to speak. “Why’d you really text me?”
Silence hung through the air. Not awkward silence, a heavy silence. The kind that only sat between two people who still had too much history between them.
“Was up,” he finally said, but his voice dropped lower this time. It was quieter, closer, “You’ve been on my mind all day.”
Your heartbeat caught mid-beat as his words echoed through your head. Had he missed you? And had you missed him back? “Yoongi—”
“Relax,” he murmured. “I’m just talking.” But the problem was that with him, ‘just talking’ had never stayed simple for very long.
“You’re impossible.” You muttered, but the words came out weaker than you intended, almost like a sigh.
Yoongi hummed softly on the other end, that familiar low sound that always settled deep in your stomach. He didn’t rush to reply. He never did. The silence stretched just long enough to make your skin prickle with anticipation.
“Am I?” he finally asked, voice quiet and laced with amusement. “Or are you just mad that you picked up on the first ring?”
You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it, shifting restlessly under your sheets. “It’s late. I really shouldn’t have.”
“Yet here we are,” he murmured, followed by yet another pause. You could hear him breathing slow and steadily, like he had all the time in the world. “You still haven’t told me why you wanted me to call.”
Your fingers tightened around the phone as a growing heat crept slowly up your neck. As much as you hated how easily he could do this to you with just his voice, you didn’t want it to stop.
“I just wanted to talk,” you said, trying to sound steady. “I don’t like texting.”
“Mhm. So talk then. What’re wearing right now?” Yoongi asked. The question was simple, but the way he said it made your pulse jump, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
You swallowed hard then spoke up, “One of my old t-shirts.”
Yoongi let out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh. Another faint moving sound came from the speaker as he questioned you again “Which t-shirt?”
You hesitated in embarrassment. ‘Fuck’ you thought, ‘Why did I chose tonight of all days to wear his clothes?” Finding your stability again, you answered softly, “The black one. Yours.”
A low chuckle rumbled through the line, warm and satisfied—cocky. “Should’ve known. You always kept my shit, didn’t you?”
“Shut up,” you whispered, flustered, but you didn’t deny it. Your free hand had unconsciously drifted to the hem of the shirt, fingers tracing the soft cotton.
“You still in bed?” he asked, his voice low and a little raspy from the late hour, the way it always got when he was tired but not quite ready to sleep “Yeah,” you answered, shifting slightly against your pillows.
“Comfy?” His tone dropped just a fraction, calm and unhurried. “Relaxed?”
“Not really,” you admitted, the words slipping out before you could filter them. You could practically hear the faint smirk in the silence that followed, that subtle smugness he never tried to hide.
“Why’s that?” Yoongi asked simply, never one to push too hard but always knowing exactly when to nudge, his patience stretching the moment out until your skin felt too warm.
You closed your eyes, heart beating a little faster at the nervousness pumping through your body. Speaking up, you responded quietly. “Because you’re doing that thing again.”
“Being all… quiet and smug. Like you know exactly what’s happening to me right now.” You admitted. He stayed silent for a moment, the kind of intentional pause that made the air feel heavier, thicker with tension. Then his voice came back, even softer, deeper, sliding into your ear like velvet. “And what’s happening to you right now, baby?”
The pet name hit you slowly, sinking in like warm honey dripping down your spine. You pressed your thighs together under the blanket, feeling that familiar warmth starting to spread between your legs, a slow heat building low in your stomach “I’m… warm.” you whispered.
“Just warm?” he murmured, patient as ever. “Or is it more than that?” He spoke as if he didn’t know what he was doing to you, like his words had no impact on your mind, your body.
Your hand moved on its own, sliding down your stomach over the soft fabric of his old black t-shirt, fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. “More than that.”
“Tell me where your hand is.” he spoke. His voice was so soft in a way that made your bones shake. The rasp in each syllable he pronounced gave you goosebumps.
You bit your lip, hesitating as the tension thickened between you, your pulse quickening under your skin. “On my stomach.”
“Mm.” The soft hum vibrated through the phone. “Move it lower, slowly.” Your fingers trembled just a little as you obeyed, slipping under the hem of his old cotton t-shirt and brushing over the waistband of your panties. A shaky breath left you, your skin already feeling hypersensitive to every touch.
“Feel how warm you are?” Yoongi asked, his voice like rough velvet, calm but heavy. “Slide your fingers over your panties first. Don’t go inside yet, just tease yourself a little.”
You followed his words, grazing lightly over the damp fabric in nauseatingly slow strokes, feeling the increasing wetness soak through the thin cotton. A soft, involuntary sound slipped from your lips as your fingertips circled over your clit through the material.
Yoongi hummed again, low and approving. “There it is, that sound I missed.” A brief pause. “You’re already wet, aren’t you baby?”
“…Yeah,” you breathed, face heating up with a mix of embarrassment and arousal.
“Good girl,” he said quietly, sounding pleased but still so composed. “Keep touching, nice and slow—Don’t rush it.”
Your fingers moved lazily, each pass making the ache between your legs grow heavier and deeper, your hips shifting restlessly under the sheets as the slow build started to drive you crazy in the sweetest, most frustrating way. The wet sounds of your fingers gliding over the soaked fabric were starting to fill the quiet room.
“Yoongi…” you murmured after a while, his name coming out almost like a sigh.
“I know,” he replied, voice low and steady. “Feels good, doesn’t it? But you’re not allowed to go faster, not yet.” He let the silence sit for a second before speaking again. “I want you dripping before you even push a finger in that pretty pussy.”
You let out a soft whine at his words, the dragged out pleasure making everything feel more intense. Every gentle circle tightened the coil in your stomach, but never enough to push you over.
“Tell me how it feels.” he said eventually, tone a little rougher around the edges now, though he was still holding back.
“Wet,” you gasped quietly. “I can feel it soaking through… God, Yoongi.”
He let out a low breath, almost a groan but quieter, more restrained. “Fuck. I bet you look so pretty like this.” Another short pause. “Spread your legs a little more for me.”
You did it without thinking, knees falling apart beneath the sheets as your fingers kept their dizzying rhythm, pressing a bit firmer against your swollen clit through the fabric.
“Yoongi… please,” you whispered after another long stretch of silence, your voice trembling with need.
“Please what?” he asked, still controlled, but you could hear the faint edge of desire creeping into his raspy voice. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you need.”
“I want… I wanna touch myself properly.”
A soft, smug little chuckle came through the line. “Push your panties to the side,” he murmured, voice low and steady like gravel wrapped in silk. “But with one finger, nice and slow for me.”
You let out a shaky exhale, the sound barely audible over the quiet ambiance of your room. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slid a trembling finger under your panties and slowly dragged it to the side, exposing your slick, heated core to the cool air.
The moment the fabric moved away, you could feel just how wet you’d become from his teasing, your arousal making your thighs feel sticky yet warm.
Your legs stayed spread apart beneath the sheets, knees bent slightly as you laid on your back, one hand holding the phone tightly to your ear while the other hovered hesitantly between your legs.
Yoongi remained silent for a few long seconds as if he were giving you time to follow through, letting the anticipation stretch out until it felt unbearable.
You could hear the quiet rustle of his own sheets on the other end. Imagining him lying there in the dark with his messy dark hair falling over his eyes, one arm tucked behind his head in that lazy way he always did sent a wave of desire through your entire body.
“Go on,” he finally said, his tone calm but carrying that subtle edge of command. “Slide a finger in, feel how tight you are for me.”
You obeyed with a soft gasp, slowly pushing your middle finger past your entrance. The feeling was immediate and intense—the warm heat of your walls clenching around your finger as you sank it in as deep as you could go.
A quiet whimper escaped your lips, back arching off the mattress as your hips shifted instinctively for more friction. The slow pace he demanded made everything feel amplified, every tiny movement of your finger sent ripples of pleasure through your lower stomach.
“Mm… that’s it,” Yoongi hummed approvingly, sound vibrating through the phone straight into your core. “How does it feel baby? Tell me.”
“It’s so warm,” you whispered breathlessly, voice shaking as you began to move your finger in and out in measured, steady strokes. “And wet Yoongi, I can hear it.” Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.
Setting the phone on speaker placing it beside you, your now free hand gripped the sheets, knuckles turning pale as you fought the urge to go faster.
Yoongi let out a low, quiet breath, almost like a sigh of appreciation. “Good girl, you’re always so honest when you’re like this. Keep going… curl your finger a little bit. Just like that darling, you’re doing so well for me.”
The praise settled over you like a warm blanket, making your stomach flutter even as the slow drag of your finger continued to build that deep, aching pressure inside you.
You curled your finger upward as he told you to, brushing against a sensitive spot that made your thighs quiver. Your breathing had grown heavier now, chest rising and falling quickly under his old black t-shirt, nipples hardened against the soft cotton.
“Fuck, I love that sound.” he murmured after a pause, his voice dropping even lower, rougher around the edges. “You have no idea how much I missed hearing you fall apart like this, so damn perfect.”
You added the slightest bit more pressure, hips rolling involuntarily into your hand. Sweat was starting to form along your hairline as the ache between your legs grew heavier with each passing minute.
Each time you pushed your finger back in, you imagined it was his; longer, thicker, moving with that same confidence he always had when he touched you.
“Yoongi…” you breathed out his name like a chant, your head turning into the pillow as another soft whimper left you. “Feels so good, I need more.”
He chuckled softly, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body. “I know you do, baby, but not yet. You’re gonna stay right there, nice and slow until I tell you otherwise. You can handle that for me, can’t you my good girl?”
"Put another in," he instructed, "Don't rush. Let yourself feel every inch of it."
You whimpered softly, the sound catching in your throat as you slowly withdrew your finger until just the tip remained inside, walls fluttering around the emptiness. The cool air hit your soaked skin for only a moment before you were pressing two fingers against your entrance, the pressure already making your hips jerk up
"Easy," Yoongi cooed. You could picture the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners, that rare smile he reserved only for moments like this. "Take your time. Push in slow, baby, I wanna hear when it gets tight."
You bit down on your lower lip hard enough to leave marks as you began to work the second finger inside. The stretch was intense, a delicious burn that made your toes curl against the sheets. Your breath came out in short, sharp gasps as you eased deeper, feeling your muscles resist for a moment before slowing down.
"There you go," he praised, voice dropping an octave, it was rougher now with his own restrained need. "That's my girl. Y’feel that? Feel how full you are?"
"Yes," you gasped, your head falling back against the pillow as you finally seated both fingers fully inside, the heel of your palm pressing against your swollen clit. "Fuck Yoongi, it's.. it's too much. I'm so full, I can feel every—"
"Move for me." he cut off with that authority that made your body sing. "Slow. I want you to feel every single stroke."
You began to thrust your fingers in and out, the wet, noisy sound of your arousal now louder with the added friction of the second finger. Your hips jerked upward to meet your own hand, craving deeper contact as your walls clenched rhythmically around your fingers. The pressure was building faster, coiling tight and hot in your stomach.
"Please..” you breathed, the word dissolving into a moan as you curled both fingers upward, finding that spot that made sparks explode behind your eyelids. "Please, Yoongi, I need—"
"I know what you need." he said. You could hear the shift in his breathing, it was faster and more ragged than before, his own hand moving beneath his sheets with your movements. "But you're not gonna finish yet. Keep that pace for me, slow and deep. Tell me how wet you are."
"I'm dripping," you cried out softly, your face burning with shame and arousal as you felt a fresh wave of heat rush through you, more slick easing out until your fingers were sliding effortlessly through your folds. "It's running down my hand, down my wrist. Yoongi, please… I can't— I need to go faster. I'm so close, I can feel it—"
"Not yet." he said firmly, though you could hear the strain in his voice now. "Add your thumb. Press it against your clit, but don't rub it. Just hold it there."
You obeyed, pressing the pad of your thumb against your throbbing clit and holding still even as your hips bucked desperately. It was torture; your fingers buried deep, curled against that sensitive spot, thumb adding pressure as your walls fluttered and clenched around yourself.
"Good girl," he groaned, the sound sending a shockwave through your core. "Fuck, you sound so perfect, so desperate for me. Now listen baby, when I tell you to move your thumb, you're gonna rub yourself in tight little circles and fuck yourself faster. Do you understand?"
"Yes," you whimpered, your whole body shaking now, sweat dampening the sheets beneath you, your nipples aching where they pressed against the fabric of his dark t-shirt.
"Come on," Yoongi breathed, voice rough and broken in a way you'd never heard before. "Move your thumb, baby. Make yourself cum for me."
You didn't hesitate. Your thumb began circling your clit in tight, desperate circles while your fingers fucked yourself faster, curling against a spot inside you that made your vision blur. Wet sounds filled the room obscenely, but you didn't care anymore—lost completely to the pleasure building like a storm inside you.
"Yoongi…" you gasped, your hips bucking wildly now, chasing the release that hovered just out of reach.
"That's it," he groaned, and you could hear it now—the rhythmic sound of his own hand moving beneath his sheets, the ragged breaths he couldn't quite suppress anymore. "Fuck, just like that. Tell me you're close. Tell me you're gonna cum for me."
"I'm close," you cried out, your voice cracking as your stomach knotted impossibly tighter, heat flooding in your body. "I'm so close, Yoongi, please—"
You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you kept working your fingers, hovering on the razor's edge of orgasm. Your whole body trembled, every touch now almost painful in its intensity.
"Now." Yoongi growled, the word tearing from his throat. "Cum with me, baby. Right now—"
You didn't need to be told twice. Your thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing ruthlessly as your fingers drove deep, curling and pressing in your pussy.
Your back arched off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat that didn't even sound like you as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through. Your walls clamped down around your fingers, pulsing rhythmically as you rode out the orgasm, hips jerking helplessly against your hand.
From the phone, you heard Yoongi's own release as he spoke up. “Oh fuck… God baby— so damn perfect, you sound so good. Shit, I’m—“ A low, dragged out groan vibrated through the speaker and echoed inside your chest. The thought of his ropes of arousal shooting out and spilling over his hands made you moan in need.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of both of you breathing hard, coming down from your climax together. Your body felt liquid, sinking deep into the mattress as aftershocks rippled through you. You became aware of the sweat cooling on your skin, the way your fingers were still buried inside you, the dampness of his t-shirt clinging to your chest.
"Fuck," Yoongi exhaled, his voice soft and spent, all the rough edges smoothed away. You could hear the smile in it, lazy and satisfied. "I forgot how loud you get."
You laughed breathless and embarrassed as you slowly withdrew your hand, wiping your fingers against your thigh. Your face burned, but it was a different kind of heat now—the glow of satisfaction mixed with the vulnerability of what you'd just shared.
"Shut up," you mumbled, but there was no bite to it.
Silence followed between you, comfortable this time. You reached for the phone, taking it off speaker and bringing it back to your ear. "You still there?" you asked quietly.
"Yeah," he murmured. "I'm here."
You stared at the ceiling, heart still beating a little too fast, and thought about all the nights you'd spent missing this—missing him. The breakup hadn't erased the way he fit into your life, the way he seemed to find his way into spaces you didn't even know were empty. "Yoongi?" you spoke up
"What happens now?" you asked. He didn't answer right away, and you listened to the sound of him shifting, imagined him staring at his own ceiling in the dark, messy hair falling across his forehead.
"I don't know," he admitted, and there was something vulnerable in his honesty, something that reminded you of the boy you'd fallen in love with before the hurt had built walls between you. "But I don't want to stop talking to you. Not again."
Your chest tightened, a different kind of ache now. The type that was tender and hopeful. "Me neither."
"Get some sleep," he said softly, not pushing for more, not demanding answers you didn't have yet, but genuinely caring for you and your wellbeing. "It's late."
"Hey," he added just as you were about to say goodbye. "That shirt looks better on you anyway. Keep it." You smiled into the darkness, clutching your phone a little tighter. "I was planning to anyways."
"Of course you were." His smugness was back, but gentler now, warmed by something that sounded a lot like affection. "Goodnight, baby."
You ended the call and set the phone on your nightstand, but sleep didn't come right away. You laid there in his shirt, skin still buzzing with the memory of his voice, and let yourself hope, really hope, that this time, things might be different.
Outside your window, the night was still and quiet. But inside your chest, something that had been still for a long time began, slowly, to wake up again.
