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slashingdisneypasta · 7 months

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Prof. Aaron Callahan x Reader || Drabble

Plot: How do you react when it seems your rich, smug, cold, older fuck buddy appears to be developing feelings, for you?

Warnings: Sexual references+age difference.

The cold sounds of a suircase clipping closed and a purposeful intake of breath behind you alerts you of the fact that he's out of the shower. And that he's probably judging you.

The suitcase lands carefully on the marble bench next to your plate and Callahan appears beside you, a frown on his mouth and one judgemental eyebrow raised behind his glasses. He sizes up your toast slathered in peanut butter, and sighs. "Yah, that's too much peanutbutter."

"Oy," You point the knife at him, a glob of peanutbutter still clinging to the metal. "You're not eating it- you don't get a say in it." Lowering the knife, you wipe the glob onto your toast then lick the knife while he watches with a baited interest. "So get stuffed."

"Mmm... " For gods sake that fucking growl- you want to hate him but that sound makes you weak at the knees. Turning your head, irritated, you see him grinning smugly as he straightens his cufflinks. "I thought that's what you did- last night. With my co- "

-Immediately you threaten him with the butter knife again; pointing it towards his neck. "No. Don't even. It is too early."

He shrugs, that irritating grin pinned still to his narcissistic, egomaniacal face, and it's almost worse then if he'd continued to speak. Sighing, you look away and put down your knife, picking up a piece of your toast and taking a bite as you lean back on the obscenely expensive kitchen bench. "So- my classes finish up around 6 today but then I have a shift at the restaurant. I'll just go back to my dorm, I think,.. See you tomorrow?"

Rolling his eyes behind the thick-framed glasses that somehow look less nerdy on him and more... asshole-ish, Callahan sighs; rolling his shoulders in that tailored suit, too. "I don't know why you stay in that dungeon. You could just live here."

Ayayayay. "Why would I do that?" You know exactly why he wants that though, and its not because he loves you, or anything- it's because the bastard wants a live-in fuck doll. A sugar baby to play house with.

You're sure that one day he will find that girl, he's very rich after all and that voice, goddang-- but it is simply not going to be you. You're getting your degree, and then you're out of here; sleeping with him is just a nice stress relieving detour along the way. Really nice.

But temporary.

You will look back on this time when you're older with a groan but for now, it's serving you. He's serving you.

Even if that is just with secret sex behind closed doors when no one's looking.

Its good, in a desperate needy way- but it certainly isnt 'move in' good, despite his arguments. "For the amenities? Perhaps?" He suggests, getting an eyeroll out of you as you take another absent-minded bite of your breakfast. "Surely, you have to admit- my house is a lot nicer then your crappy little hole in the wall."

"And how would you know my place is crappy? You've never dained to visit."

"It's a college dorm- I don't need to sully my boots stepping into it to know that it's garbage, Y/N."

Slowly you sip your coffee at him, an unamused look written all over your face, eyes peering at him over the brim. He doesn't seem bothered.

"You know I'm right," He picks up the suitcase by the handle and slides it off the bench, checking his watch. Oh he thinks he's important, you think, shaking your head in bemusement as you set your coffee mug down again. Which- you suppose, he is. He runs a billion dollar law firm afterall, which is how he can afford this ridiculously shiny clean home. But, still. What an obnoxious ass. "Anyway, I have to go. Fine, come over tomorrow. I'll be at a luncheon from 12 to 3... but you have your key, right?" He's not rushed at all, but he still doesnt wait for you to respond. Dismissive old bastard. "Right. Okay, bye- "

"-Actually I'll be a little later." You quickly butt-in, setting your fingers carefully around a corner of one of your toasts; but not picking it up. It's wierd how you feel uncomfortable telling him this, you're not dating, but it is awkward. Peering up at him looking expectantly at you for the rest of what you just had to cut him off for, you take a short, huffy breath. "I have a date, around 4. Evening market."

"... a date?" He blinks, slow. Thinking.

"Yeah."

"Who??" The incredulousness in his tone annoys you, for why would he be confused about this (He certainly finds you attractive!! Why wouldn't someone else want to date you??), but you pace yourself and let it go.

"You don't know him, he's in one of my classes." Not apart of the law department. "Does it matter??"

"Well- I- " He looks like he wants to move and put his suitcase back down for some reason, appearing actually very put out about this development but trying to act like he's not. You watch him suspiciously, narrowing your eyes. What?? "I certainly don't want to be, what's that frat boy term??- " The man makes a show of thinking, before going 'ah!' and clicking his fingers- being obnoxious and theatrical for no other reason then because he's an asshole. "tunnel buddies, with some hippy english student, now do I?"

"... I'm sorry-- are you insulting my date or me??"

"Either way." He admits openly, quickly, making your jaw drop. Getting heated, you push off the side of the bench and turn to face him, a cross look all over your face.

"And- tunnel buddies?? You are a grown fucking man, are you serious!??"

"Unwaiveringly, sweetheart."

Swee- what is this man on!?? Who does he think you are, his 6 year old daughter in ponytails asking for a pet!? How dare he?? Why is he acting insane all of a sudden?? After taking a slow, deep breath- you gather yourself and just give him a dark look. "... don't you have somewhere to be?"

Evidently he does not, not anymore. "Look- I'm just curious, why you're dating the boys at this campus when you're already fucking me? There's no way this, well, this child-- can do you the way I can."

"Do me?? How eloquent, professor."

"I guarantee you no boy in this college is going to go down on you, that's for sure."

"You don't know that!" Where is this coming from?? Also... he's exaggerating, right?? He just thinks very little of his students right?? Surely-

Chuckling, he shakes his head and finally sets the suitcase back on the bench- though he doesn't let go of the handle. After licking his lips in thought, he looks back at you and holds up a finger to you- at you- like he's offering a point of view in court. Jesus Christ, if this is how he is during arguments at home it is no wonder his ass is divorced... not that you didn't already have a million other reasons someone wouldn't want to be married to the jerk. "Listen, fine, go ahead. Take the kid to your squalid home, your- well, what is no doubt a single bed. And wet his cock there, whatever- " A shrug of those broad shoulders and your jaw drops. "but don't come crying to me when you have to fake your own climax."

"Hey!- it's not like you haven't left me high and dry before, you ass!" He's done it multiple times, claiming he has to be somewhere urgently or he needs to get his sleep for work the next morning- or just bluntly telling you to handle it yourself. "Don't pretend like you're some gift to women in bed."

Immediately, he attempts to push on- offer a new argument locked and loaded in his brain- but its your turn. "And, I don't have to explain myself to you- but maybe I want to find a guy I actually could have a future with past college?? I'm sorry if I'm not dead inside yet like you and still think I can find someone nice. Someone more then just a regular fuck."

He squints at you reproachfully from beyond his glasses, thinking hard at that, while you cross your arms and glare at him back. "... whatever, I guess!" He finally sighs, flippant while picking up his suitcase again; finality in his tone. "Do what you want, but mark my words- when I see you tomorrow night, whenever that will be," he rolls his eyes upwards towards the ceiling and huffs out a dramatic sigh, referring to the fact you didn't mention how late you might be. Because he didn't give you a chance! you want to add, but stay silent glaring at him. "I just hope you're not too needy. I might not be in the mood, to fulfill you."

You scoff. "Then maybe I won't come."

He gives you another, momentarily reproachful look because you both know you'll come anyway- even just to sleep (It's just... routine). Then turns to leave you in his home, like he's done so many times before, aloof and nonchalant.

You watch him stop in his tracks, though, his back to you, shoulders taught in that tailored suit. For a moment he stays that way, then curiously turns half around to look at you again, a peculiar and skeptical look in his dark eyes. You raise a brow expectently, wondering what he wants now.

When he doesn't move for a few seconds too long, you open your mouth to ask him what the hell he's doing- still beyond frustrated by him. "Why are you- "

As soon as you start talking its like he makes his decision and comes all the way back to you, wrapping an arm suddenly around the back of your waist and dragging you directly against him while also trapping you against the kitchen bench. His lips fold against your own like kisses in those old movies; that perfectly deep make-out that has your mouths sealed together and all the way open and almost all-tongue. That 50's era 'goodbye honey, I'm off to work now but our unscheduled Thursday night missionary sex put me in a spectacular mood, have a great day til i come home again' kind of kiss. You're confused but your head is fuzzy because his lips are always so surprisingly soft and so warm and kill every little lick of sense inside you- you can't help but kiss him back.

When he abruptly dissapears from you just as quick as he came- you're even more confused by the look on his face; still peculiar and skeptical but, almost... pleased. A tiny tiny grin perks at the corner of his mouth.

You want to know whats going on in that evil little mind. What is he thinking? What was that kiss for? He never kisses you goodbye, its too... sentimental. "... what- "

"Lock the door on your way out." Then he's gone, sweeping out of the apartment swiftly like none of what just happened- happened. Like it was just any Friday morning and he didn't just break all the goddamn rules.

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