Mr.Petrov

Substitute

Third period, algebra. An annoying teacher, an annoying class. The only thing you're fond of is your friends who stay with you in your class. You walk, tired and unamused to your third hour class but see an unfamiliar face at the door. You only see a blur of the tall figure as you rush past it, people pouring into the class after you.
                "I'm closing the door now. Exuse me." The tall man shuffles past a desk, his accent thick. What is it? Russian? Your suspicions are confirmed when he bumps into an inconveniently placed bookshelf.
"Yebat'," the man curses, the Russian word for fuck. I assume he's cursing so openly because he thinks no one understands.
                Y/N has a Russian best friend who she's known since childhood, her knowing her family for a long time allowing her to learn Russian naturally. However, the language had never sounded so attractive to Y/N before. His voice was low pitched, deep, almost a growl.
You finally get a good look at the man,  his hair long, past his shoulders and dark. His eyes are a peircing black and between them lay a hooked nose, a trait attractive to Y/N. His skin is pale, contradicting his style. All black, not even a touch of color. Black dress pants, black dress shirt, black coat, and black combat boots. The outfit was conservative, but his sleeves are rolled up so you can see the tattoos on his hands and wrists, only his sleeves cutting them off. I'm fucked.
"Welcome class, I'm substituting for Ms.Camoron. I hope you guys don't mind my voice, I've been told it's intimidating," he chuckled, even his laugh is sexy. This is somehow worse then usual. In my usual class at least I can pay attention, but how am I supposed to pay attention when the world's most attractive man is teaching my class. "I'd like to get to know you guys. Camoron got Covid so she'll be out for awhile. I'd like to know all of your names. Could we go by desk? You, then you, then you and so on and so forth," the man pointed left to right, from the front row.
I picked a desk in the middle of the class at the beginning of the year because my best friend Anya sat there. To my dismay, she's not at school today. I'm SERIOUSLY fucked.
"You?" Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice it had been about two minutes, enough time for the name train to reach me.
"Y/N L/N."
His eyes linger on you for a second before he continues, him peeking at you randomly as the names continue.
"Seems I know you guys a bit now, do you guys understand this concept?"
The pale figure continues, but you still can't pay attention.
He's so attractive this should be illegal.  All of his movements smooth and perfect. You squeeze your thighs together, attempting to create some kind of friction between your legs, your heat throbbing and dripping with lust.
The bell rings. You're zoned out, thinking about the lewd things he could do to you, his voice purring vulgar words as he pounds you.
"Y/N."
You look up, the Russian man standing in front of your desk, his buldge above the railing of the desk he's towering over. 
You flinch.
"Ah, are you feeling alright? You haven't payed attention the whole time. I have notes for you to take."
"I'm sorry. I was just..zoned out." You avoid eye contact and ...groin contact so you don't get flushed. 
"Stay here." He purrs, walking briefly to grab a piece of paper before he walks back to you.

This is going to be awhile.

623 words, hope you guys enjoyed the short chapter.