Dahyun Oneshots

Fundraising Gala - Mihyun

"I hate these things," Mina mutters under her breath. She's stuck in a fundraising gala, and all because her mother just got a job at Korea's medical department. She was supposed to be schmoozing the big wigs, but she's at the bar downing another whiskey rocks.

She turns to face the crowd, leaning against the bar and crossing her legs under her tight strapless red dress. It's a charming old building, plenty of history, plenty of room. She scans the crowd, and her eyes catch on a figure leaning against a nearby marble column.

It's not something Mina sees everyday. A slender woman in a dark as night suit with a black button up, slightly glimmering red slim tie, matching pocket square. Long pants hugging her hips, ending just a bit short on purpose. Her feet are encased in supple black leather shoes, a slice of red socks peeking out. She lets her eyes travel back up. Her suit jacket is held together with one button, well tailored specifically for her, a hand on a whiskey glass, one in her pocket, casually nonchalant. When Mina reaches her eyes she feels a heat touch her cheeks, but she doesn't look away.

Sparkling chocolate eyes are boring into her own, a devilish smirk on her full lips. Her hair is falling down past her slim notch lapel. Soon she's swaggering over, the picture of confidence.

She extends a long fingered hand, and Mina catches sight of a silver class ring and a diamond encrusted Rolex.

"I don't believe we have the opportunity to meet. Kim Dahyun," she says, voice a tick higher than Mina had expected.

"Myoui Mina. We haven't. I would remember you," she husks, lingering on the hand in hers before dropping it.

"Are you a Korean graduate as well?" Dahyun asks, leaning one arm around Mina to rest on the bar, the other finding her pocket again.

"Pratt. I'm in Greenwich Village now. In a shoebox."

Dahyun laughs, she's never lived in a shoebox, but she can sympathize none the less.

"Seoul, as you know, then SNU Law. I live in Hannam Hill, in a penthouse."

Mina barely manages to keep her mouth from falling open, but Dahyun reads her face like an open book.

"May I get you a drink, Miss Myoui?"

Mina recovers herself only slightly to nod, then Dahyun's leaning in, fingers trailing down her pale arm. Her head is swimming with Dahyun's perfume, or is it cologne, whatever it is it's more intoxicating than all the drinks in the world. It's woodsy with a hint of deep rose, and Mina finds herself unconsciously leaning into her neck, back coming off the bar.

"A bottle of your best champagne," Dahyun calls to the bartender, a thick wad of hundreds placed down. All proceeds from the gala are going to Seoul's medical scholarship fund, but she'd spend any amount of cash on this gorgeous blonde.

Dahyun does the honor of popping the champagne, getting it in one try, and Mina brings the bottle and Dahyun's hand to her mouth, sucking the bubbles overflowing then taking a long forefinger into her mouth. She swirls her tongue around it, and Dahyun feels her pants get a bit tight.

They make it to two glasses each, talking mostly about Mina's artwork. Dahyun instantly commissions a self portrait of Mina, says they can discuss details over dinner next week, and that's when Dahyun starts waxing poetic about turbot with château chalon sauce. She seems to be an obsessive foodie, Mina notes. As the topic turns back to Mina (her beautiful dress, her hair, her eyes, those legs), Dahyun almost has Mina pinned to the bar, in the middle of a huge crowd. Mina is twirling a lock of brown hair around her fingers, glass abandoned, the other pressed against the red tuft of her pocket square, ready to to tug her in impossibly closer. Dahyun has one hand on Mina's hip, the other in her pocket, trying and failing to conceal her semi erect dick. Mina's lips start ghosting over the shell of her ear, and hot breath is pounding through her brain. There's no way she could get herself to speak at the moment.