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21h

Summary: Your classmates suspect Professor Qin to be a womanizer—which is a problem for you, because you're his woman. (professor!Sylus × undergrad!Reader)

Why does Professor Qin have so many phones?! (4.8k words; Explicit)

🔗 Read on AO3 | Tags: Female Reader-Insert, Crack Treated Seriously, Reader is 21, Sylus is 34, Teacher-Student Relationship, Alternate Universe - College/University, Attempted Comedy, Oral Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff | Note: This side story is a product of me and my friend joking about a more serious fic I'm working on. Basically it's just a fun little thing.

It was Mateo who first brought it up in the class group chat in the middle of MATSCI 490. Sylus was droning on as usual in his gorgeous ass voice about the Griffith failure criterion, something about the inverse relationship between the square root of the crack length and the fracture stress of glass, which was to be used for brittle materials…

Your phone had been vibrating in your pocket. The only thing you had notifications on for were academics-related group chats (because you would never turn down the opportunity for possible incentives), and Landon—who was sitting a couple of rows in front of you today—being on his phone in class was a rarity, so your curiosity was piqued. Your hands abandoned your laptop keyboard so that you could take a peek at the GC.

Mateo: Has anyone else noticed how prof Q's phone keeps changing [3:28 PM]

Ren: how do you even [3:28 PM] Ren: notice [3:28 PM] Ren: THAT [3:28 PM]

Alex: wat else would he have glasses for dumbass [3:29 PM] 😂 2

Mateo: If anyone cares [3:30 PM] Mateo: His oldest phone is an iphone pro max which is what he started the sem with [3:30 PM]

Landon: Bro memorized what each gen looks like [3:31 PM] 😂 4

Mateo: I think the other week he had a 17, but now he has the 17 pro max [3:32 PM] 🤓 3

Kay: fucking apple fanboy [3:33 PM] 😂 2

Mateo: In my defense it's easy to tell [3:33 PM] Mateo: He keeps getting those gimmicky colors [3:33 PM]

Kay: your knees hurt from sucking tim cooks dick? [3:34 PM] 😂 3 🤮 2

Mateo: In order, it was white, pale purple, orange [3:34 PM]

Ren: bruh [3:34 PM]

Mateo: Dude [3:34 PM]

Dyl: bro too far [3:34 PM]

Kay: too far down his throat [3:34 PM]

Alex: PALE PURPLE [3:34 PM]

Mateo: @.Kay You would know what it's like [3:34 PM] 👎 2

Alex: @.Mateo how are you running for valedictorian not knowing the word for lavender [3:34 PM] 😭 3 ❓ 1

Ren: what if they send him phones for like, promo reasons [3:35 PM] ❓ 1 🤓 1

Oliver: Who tf is he gonna promote to??? Us?? [3:35 PM]

Kay: the old man barely has social media [3:35 PM]

Alby: Yall think old Q's two timing [3:35 PM] 🤯 2

Ren: NO FUCKING WAYYYYY [3:35 PM]

Dyl: does he even have a gf [3:35 PM]

Carl: i saw him outside campus with ms faye once [3:35 PM] 😂 2

Ren: "ms faye" first name basis is crazy [3:35 PM]

Kay: you were stalking her werent you [3:36 PM] ☝️ 5 😂 4

Carl: no i wasnt [3:36 PM] 😂 6

Mateo: But there were 3 phones [3:36 PM] 🤓 3

Alby: THREE timing then [3:36 PM] 😂 2

The conversation quickly devolved into a discussion on Carl's crush on Professor Chen, as instigated by Ren and Kay, so you lost interest. You put down the phone and looked up, only to meet Sylus' eyes. He was still droning on, but his gaze was sharp, and he pointedly scanned the room before returning to you. He didn't raise an eyebrow, but he might as well have.

You covered your mouth to hide a grin. From the constant vibrations in your pocket, you guessed everyone in the class was typing furiously, ribbing Carl for his frankly pathetic infatuation which had somehow persisted for over a year now.

But Mateo was right. It was weird. You hadn't been over at Sylus' for the past two weeks because he was busy with some business deal or other, and you weren't in the habit of looking at his personal effects whenever he stepped onto the raised platform to teach, so you actually hadn't noticed. This development was a little concerning—not earth-shattering, obviously, but you suspected there was a story behind it, and you decided you were going to find out.

---

"Anything you want to tell me?" you asked Sylus. He furrowed his brow and glanced at you, but kept his eyes on the road as he drove.

"…No," he said after thinking it over. "What are you really asking, sweetie?"

"Don't play dumb," you sang.

A few more seconds of silence as his mind worked. You stared at him all the while, marveling at the perfect curve of his ear, at the way his eyes squinted in concentration—he was always so adorable when he was quietly thinking. You kept your face straight though.

"Kitten, I have no idea what this is about," he gave up, laughing a little, sending another glance your way—despite his age, he looked like Victor had when he was a shy sophomore boy still trying to get your attention, only more beautiful. "Give me a clue, hmm? Did I forget to make a reservation for dinner outside later?"

"Oh no, you can't get out of this one with promises of food," you warned. Honestly, you were enjoying this, but you needed to keep control over your tone and expression—this had the potential to be very entertaining, and you didn't want to ruin it now.

He sighed. "I…am genuinely wondering what's running through your mind right now. Consider us both curious."

Taking pity on him, mostly because his sigh sounded so defeated, you asked, abrupt, "Are you cheating on me?"

His brow went back to its furrowed state, and he seemed to have trouble choosing what to look at—you or the road in front of him. "Kitten," he started, affronted. "What brought this on?"

"You know what they were all talking about earlier?"

"Please, do tell."

"That you're dating Professor Chen," you snapped.

"Miss Chen is involved with a man other than myself." He sounded confused. Internally, you banged your fist in disappointment. Damn it.

"Then who the hell are you texting that you need so many phones for?" you muttered, slumping against the passenger door and crossing your arms, as if sulking.

He laughed off to your side, but you refused to look at him, as if suffering some intense moral injury. Since he was still driving, the only thing he could do to bother you—hiding behind your wall of resentment—was put his hand on your thigh. Which he knew was your weakness, the clever bastard.

His hand was warm, kneading and caressing your thigh, letting it drift up to the junction where your hip met your thigh and stroking against that line—his fingernail getting caught on the folds of your pants. You swallowed.

"Sweetie," he purred, "you know you're the only one I text."

As a matter of fact, yes, you did know that. His phone was bereft of messages aside from emails from his colleagues and business partners. You'd seen them—unbearably boring. Even though snooping through someone else's phone was supposed to be fun, it was simply not an engaging activity when the phone was Sylus' phone. (Sometimes you felt sorry for the Sylus that existed before you came.)

"Why do you make it so hard to believe you?" You turn your face towards the window, still playacting, but it was becoming harder to concentrate with him teasing you like that. With every pass of his finger, he got closer and closer to your slit, only separated from his determined hand by two layers of fabric.

His house was only a few more blocks away, but you didn't know if you could keep this up long enough until you reached your destination. You could already feel yourself getting wet, your entrance throbbing—you cursed your own body for the betrayal.

"Let me make it up to you," he promised, unruffled by his own shamelessness (to your horror and fascination). "You must have missed me, if you're picking a pointless fight with me like this."

"Pointless? It's not because I miss you, you dolt," you said hotly, which was…another lie. You did miss him. Him and his troublesome dick and those garnet eyes that, for a while, you only saw from a distance.

"You're making it hard for me to believe you, too," he replied, a smile in his voice.

After a few more minutes of him torturing you to his heart's content—your hips twitching occasionally after he abandoned any pretense of decency and stroked and pressed two fingers against your slit—you looked back at him, finally, and found him already staring at you. The car had stopped.

The moment when your eyes met was when it seemed to click for him—that this was just a game, and you were waiting for him to play. His eyes widened for a moment, losing that serious air—he must have found something in your expression, some tell that gave you away—and he smiled, seemingly in relief.

"My phone is in my briefcase and the passcode is my measurements."

Another thing you already know, thank you very much, Sylus. You noticed how he evaded the subject of his fucking phones changing, but he paid no mind to the incredulity that must have been showing on your face.

"Look through it all you like, kitten. As your teacher, it's my job to satisfy your curiosity, after all."

You made a face at him for bringing up your other relationship—you had agreed it was best to leave all that on campus—but laughed now that the jig was up. You never truly believed for a second that he was cheating—if you had really suspected him of finding comfort elsewhere, he would have already been dumped.

Once you entered the house and he had closed the door behind him, he pinned you against the wall in the entryway, putting his hands up your clothes before you could even say anything and making you jolt. His hands were toasty.

"What's it going to take to get you to stop being angry at me, huh?" he murmured into your ear, his fingers brushing over your sides, your hips, up and down like you were some piece of pottery on the wheel that he was trying to mold. His nose at your neck tickled, the warm air a little welcome shock after coming from the cold inside his car.

So he still wanted to play, most likely to distract you from your investigation. Well…it wasn't that serious anyway. You decided he could keep his secret for a while longer, though his insistence on deflecting was very, very intriguing. You'd get to the bottom of it tomorrow.

"Why don't you take a guess?" you whispered.

"We'll do trial and error, then."

He tossed you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs and to the bedroom—with you pounding at his solid back the whole time—granting you a bouncy view of the stairs and his ass on the way there. Once he had tossed you onto the bed, he made short work of your clothes—any of your attempts to help him were met with a fussy little tut that had you repeating the sound back to him to mock him, prompting him to remark, The house seems to have turned into an aviary, to which you replied, indignant, You're the only one who looks like a bird here!

You would have liked to say that his desperation to get to the sex was because he was terrified of you wrangling an answer out of him, but unfortunately he was simply like that. If you didn't know better, you'd think you were hooking up with someone your age.

"Care to explain this, kitten?" he smirked, holding up your soaked panties once he had peeled them off you. He swiped a finger through the mess and pretend-inspected it, raised an eyebrow at you, lips set in a smug line.

"Interrogating me when that's your doing," you rolled your eyes and spread your legs. "You better finish what you started, old man."

His eyes took on a dangerous glint, gaze sweeping up and down your body. "It's about time you started making demands," he purred, slinking down and settling between your legs, resting his head on your thigh. "Where are those paws? Show them to me."

"Why do you still need to be guided?" You brought a hand up and inspected your nails, feigning disinterest. "Don't you know how to please a woman by now?"

"I just want to make sure I haven't forgotten, that's all." He rubbed his cheek against your skin, willing you to look at him. "Won't you help me?"

"I could be persuaded," you acquiesced. "Prove that you still know the basics and I'll decide if you're…worthy."

"Worthy?" he repeated, chuckling. He placed your knees and legs over his broad shoulders, gripping your thighs. "I am, darling, so get ready."

Sylus, as he was in nearly all things, shameless about eating pussy. Usually, he loved to start just a little ways away from your entrance, kissing all over the outside, and that was how he began now—mapping the already-swollen flesh, occasionally licking up any arousal that was watery enough to trickle down to the area he was currently devoting his attention to.

His nose, already devastating normally, pressed against you, swiping against your soaked entrance. You were already so sensitive that your body couldn't help but flinch. He only pulled you closer towards him and his greedy mouth.

You fisted the sheets, restraining yourself from giving in to his request so easily, as he moved on to pressing his tongue on either side of your clit, taking turns, but being careful not to disturb the nub itself too much. By then you were gritting your teeth, your thighs clamping down on his head, but it was still too soon to reward him, and you always hesitated to give him an easy victory.

There were times when you thought he'd finally brush against your clit and send you over the edge, but he pulled away every time you anticipated that blinding rush of pleasure—making you dig your hands into the mattress. He chuckled a little at how your legs flailed and tensed, releasing his grip on your thighs to stroke them in an attempt to placate you. You glared at the top of his head, but since he couldn't see it, you heaved a huge sigh, which only made him chuckle longer.

Having deemed his job on your vulva done, he finally sucked at your clit, alternately flicking it with his tongue, which was enough to make you come after all that prolonged teasing. Your hands flew to his hair, threaded your fingers through it, and pulled—only now fulfilling his request—as you moaned, for the first time.

In response he groaned a Thank you, audible even though your thighs and tugging hands held him fast against your pussy. (Or perhaps you knew him well enough to guess what he meant, even without understanding it.)

When you had mostly calmed down, the only remnants of your orgasm being your rapid breathing, he mumbled something else into your pussy.

"What?" you breathed, still coming down from your high. Reluctantly, he parted your thighs and pried himself from you, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.

"I missed you," he said. "I was so…disappointed…when the sheets stopped smelling like you."

"Well, I'm here now." You smoothed back his hair, carding your fingers through the parts you'd pulled and mussed. To your relief, he showed no sign of pain, the lines of his eyes soft and relaxed. The slight tension in his brow that you had managed to overlook earlier was gone.

"It's not enough." He shook his head and climbed across the bed, looming over you. "Indulge me."

---

You woke up the next morning in Sylus' bed with no Sylus (he was making breakfast, you could smell it) and no answers in relation to your current investigation: why did he change phones so quickly in such a short span of time?

You tried to blink the sleep from your eyes, rubbed at them, and grabbed his current phone on the nightstand—the iPhone 17 Pro Max in that hideous shade of orange, almost too bright for your newly-awakened self. You couldn't blame Mateo for noticing, because this color definitely constituted an assault on the senses.

Would it provide clues? He seemed to have transferred all the data from his previous phones, because he was signed in on various platforms. You looked through his messaging apps, where the history stretched back to before Mateo said—confirming your thoughts on the data transfer—but they were still bare and professional, just like they were on his old phone (with the exception of your conversation with him, of course).

The only thing of interest on the home page was the fishing game you had sent him, urging him to play it after finding out his love for fishing. You smiled at seeing the icon on the screen, the cheerful fisherman holding up his catch. There was no red notification badge—he must have finished his dailies.

Trying a different angle, you looked at his browsing history, but nothing suspicious turned up. He was looking at restaurants recently—probably why he'd brought up a dinner reservation yesterday, since it was already on his mind. No fake scam alerts, no weird shopping sites, nothing. You had entertained the idea that maybe he had accidentally navigated to one of those "Virus Detected" webpages after clicking on the wrong ad, but as much as you (and your classmates) joked about Sylus being old, he wasn't that old—and certainly not senile enough to fall for such things.

"Kitten," he called from somewhere else in the house. "Aren't you hungry?" (As if you really were a kitten he was tasked with feeding.)

You brought his phone with you to the dining area, where he was busy laying out the food. He smiled when you padded in and walked up to him at the table.

"Good morning." He set the plate in his hand down, opened his arms, and you fell into them. He was warm, still smelling like sleep. "You feel okay?"

"I can't wait for the weekend," you say into his shirt, muffled. "I just want to sleep in with this premium human furnace in my bed." You could feel his chest moving as he chuckled.

"You could always just not show up," he reminded you, herding you to one of the seats like a collie and kissing the top of your head.

"No way. All of you are so irresponsible," you complained, reaching for the eggs. "You know I have to put up with people in each class GC asking if anyone else isn't coming in. You're like a bunch of little devils on my shoulder. Both my shoulders. You probably wouldn't even fit, you'd push them all away so you could have my shoulders all to yourself."

"I do like your shoulders," he agreed, taking a sip of his tea.

"Too much," you emphasized, thinking back to last night. "Feels like I've been mauled."

"Did I overdo it?" He leaned forward, worry on his face. Cute. "I'll put some ointment on it later before you leave. I just ordered a new brand since the last one wasn't effective when I tried it."

"You and your online shopping. You're going to make this place look like a warehouse," you laughed. "I didn't look yet. It's fine, I'll just wear something with sleeves."

After breakfast, you took a shower (alone, so you wouldn't get delayed by a naughty Sylus) and brushed your teeth (alone too, so you avoided the temptation of flicking toothpaste froth at him and starting a toothpaste war). He escorted you to the door, his hair still dripping, with only an incredibly short towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist.

"You better hide or the neighbors will see you," you threatened, hand reaching for the doorknob. "They'll think you're an exhibitionist."

"Don't worry, kitten, these are for your eyes only," he smiled. "Now, where's my souvenir?"

You gave him his goodbye kiss—pushing him away when he tried to deepen it, backing you against the wall, Ugh, you'll get me wet, stop it!—and managed to escape, giving him one last look as he stood in the entryway, off to the side, his cheeks and ears ruddy from a simple kiss, making you giggle.

Once you had boarded a bus headed to your place (you needed to get your notes for your other class under Professor Wang, who was infinitely stricter than Sylus and insisted on banning gadgets from being used), you checked your phone after being off it since yesterday afternoon.

The class GC had blown up once again with talk of how they wanted to find out whether Sylus really had a girlfriend who he was cheating on. Mentally, you wished them good luck—you were his girlfriend and he refused to tell you the truth about his rapid phone changes. They were barking up the wrong tree entirely, but you respected their amount of resolve. Besides, since Sylus wouldn't admit anything to you, then he totally deserved to get annoyed by a bunch of early 20-somethings.

To your delight, some of the students were making good on their promise to investigate. After 490, Mateo, Alby, and Alex seemed to have banded together to surround Sylus as he was putting away his laptop and the room's cables, the stuff he usually used to present his slides. (The wireless connection not working was often a source of consternation for him—you guessed that "upgrading the screens and projectors" was next on his list of projects for the department building.)

His hands faltered a little while going through his practiced motions for coiling the cables when he saw them approaching him. But what really made him raise an inquisitive eyebrow were the remaining students (including you), who were all uncharacteristically staying behind instead of booking it out the door as soon as class ended. Like hell you were going to miss this.

In an effort to not look suspicious, the people still in the room were putting away their things slowly, talking among themselves quietly. You watched them all from the ideal vantage point—you'd taken a seat near the very back corner this time, and saw them all sneaking glances at the front of the room.

Ren was a particularly terrible actor, almost snapping his neck whenever he turned his head. Dylan, who he was in conversation with, gave a laugh and lightly punched his shoulder, presumably for the terrible attempt at nonchalance.

The three seemed to have prepared a series of questions for Sylus, related to something in the current lesson—the calculation of the stress concentration factor. You could only catch bits and pieces of what they were asking, and you noticed with great amusement that they were taking this extremely seriously—Alby grabbed a whiteboard marker and started expounding on his question, making Sylus turn away from the desk to watch him write on the board.

Mateo was blocking Sylus' line of sight, apparently taking the lookout role—still terrified of getting in trouble even after allowing them to rope him into this, it seemed—allowing Alex to seize the chance to get close to the desk and tap at Sylus' phone, resting innocently upon it, most likely to check his notifications. You weren't worried at all because you knew they wouldn't find anything. Sylus was always thorough when it came to you.

Their investigation went off without a hitch. Sylus either didn't notice or pretended not to notice Alex's snooping, and once they were done faking being confused (in Mateo's case, it was already in his nature to be a suck-up, so there was no pretending there) they returned to their seats to pack up, where they started whispering furiously.

Sylus resumed his usual routine: he packed up, closed his briefcase, and, after looking around pointedly at the people still in the room, left. Nobody had been paying him enough attention to be made nervous by his final scan, though—all of them were staring or typing at their phones. You took his exit as your cue to leave and go to your next class, MATSCI 380.

Only after that, when you were sitting in the student commons, did you finally check your phone. What you saw made your heart race.

Alex: hes texting someone called BABY [4:02 PM]

Carl: it better not be ms chen [4:02 PM] 🤓 4 🤮 2

Kay: @.Carl MAAAANNNN STFU [4:02 PM]

Dyl: this is crazy [4:02 PM]

Ren: tell us what it fuckgn said [4:02 PM]

You had to take a deep breath before looking at the rest of the messages. Since when did Sylus slip when it came to opsec?

Kay: @.Carl ur cornball ahh is lucky i skipped 🤜🤜🤜 [4:02 PM] 😂 2

Oliver: Whats with the suspense [4:03 PM]

Mateo: He's lying [4:03 PM] 👎 10 👊 10 🙄 8 💢 7 Mateo: There were a bunch of reminders on his lockscreen though [4:03 PM] 👎 3

Ren: WHAT reminders [4:03 PM]

Alex: @.Mateo snitchhhh [4:03 PM] 👊 7 🙄 5

Landon: Boring [4:03 PM] 🤯 4

Kay: fuck did yall do that for then [4:03 PM]

Alex: book dinner reservation saturday 7 [4:03 PM] Alex: take her heels fitting [4:03 PM] Alex: buy extra pads [4:04 PM]

Kay: yawnnnnn [4:04 PM]

Dyl: so he does have a gf [4:04 PM]

Alex: yea but WHO [4:04 PM]

Oliver: Maybe we should let the guy score in peace [4:04 PM]

You let out a breath you'd been holding. At least none of it was incriminating...

You had to remind Sylus to be more careful though.

---

"Are you finally going to tell me whatever it is you're trying to hide?" you asked over dinner that night. He'd picked up some takeout from some newly-opened restaurant (since the waiting list was in the hundreds, he'd just bribed a chef or something like that).

"Is it really that important?" He peeked at you over his glass.

"Considering the whole class was buzzing about it, I'd say yeah," you shrugged, twirling your fork to collect the pasta. "I mean, that whole stunt earlier—there was no way you missed it, right?"

"Were they?"

"Sy…I'd really, really like you to tell me." You put on your best puppy-dog eyes for good measure. "What happened to your phones?"

"They were… damaged," he said delicately and vaguely, exactly like a man with a guilty conscience. It didn't help that his ears were also a huge giveaway—even in the dim lighting, they were visibly blaring, a stoplight-red.

"Damaged how?" you echoed. Why was he being so evasive if the reason was that simple? Damaging his phone twice was comical though.

His Adam's apple bobbed. "I might have spilled something on them."

"Spilled? Come on, you and I know that you keep your phone away from liquids. You don't even take out your phone during mealtimes. And why would you make the same mistake?"

"Do you pay attention to my phone that much?" he redirected, sounding sad. "I don't recall using it that often around you, kitten…"

"Oh, don't use that move on me!" you laughed. "Don't make me feel sorry for you—no, I barely saw any of your phones—I barely saw you these past weeks—and you're not being a bad boyfriend—now spill."

"Then how did you notice it, sweetie?"

"Mateo did," you wheezed. "Why'd you keep getting the flashy colors? It made you so obvious."

"The stores ran out of the other colors," Sylus pouted, and you couldn't help but reach out and squeeze his cheeks for looking so downtrodden—you had to get up and reach over the table, but he made no move to escape. He leaned into it instead. "They said the next shipment was still due. The new generation just came out, unfortunately, and people have been snatching the models up like barracudas."

"And…?"

"I may have gotten carried away…looking at pictures of you." He looked off to the side, inadvertently showing off that delicate jawline, distracting you a bit. His ears, if it were possible, looked even redder.

"Pictures?" you asked, incredulous, then, "oh. Ohhhh!"

"When I tried to open it, it refused," he said, tone almost offended as he poked at his plate. "And I might have done that twice."

"Sylus," you laughed. "You keep your phone away from fluids, but not bodily fluids?"

"Kitten."

"You were that lonely?"

"…I told you I missed you, didn't I?"

"I missed you too, big boy."

End Notes: This was a combination of the following prompts:

"Sylus cumming on his phone looking at pics/vids of you until it refuses to open so he has to buy a new one then when you ask him where his old phone went, he gets embarrassed"

and

"Mechanical engineering prof Sylus who keeps changing phones, making the students think he's a cheater".

#lmao i love this #Sylus control yourself #full grown professor acting like a horny teenager 🙄#the dialogue in this was so realistic and funny I love it #fic rec

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