Slytherin Boy Imagines

T.R ~ Tutor Session

Context:

You were his little secret...Professor Riddle's little secret. You didn't get to be someone else's - ever since the moment you walked into that classroom and his gaze fell on you - you knew. 

He knew...

TW:
Unbalanced power dynamic 

Age gap

!Aged up!

⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧⋆ ˚。⋆

You sat in class, bouncing your leg up and down to try and distract yourself. 

'I'm so screwed'

You spent all of last night trying to trying to revise for this stupid Defence Against the Dark Arts test - and you were still going to fail. You glance up at Professor Tom Riddle, and your heart jumps into your throat. He was already staring - no, glaring at you. You look back down at your test. It's made up of scribbles, wrong and unanswered questions. 

'Shit, I'm screwed'

Then, almost comically, the bell rang. You look up as the class packs up there things. At least it was the end of the week.

"Tests on my desk on your way out, and I expect the homework to be completed by Monday," Professor Riddle doesn't even look up as he says this, ignoring the students groans and complaints. He easily supplies the most work out of any other Professor. 

You pack your things and slowly bring your test to his desk. You glance at him gripping his quill as he scribbles something on some parchment. You yearn to feel those hands around your neck, touching your body, inside of you.

'Jesus Y/N'

You begin to walk out of the classroom before you hear Professor Riddle call out;

"Miss. Y/L/N, stay behind, I'd like a few words," You stop and slowly turn, approaching his desk and standing there awkwardly while you wait for the final students to file out. The last student closing the door behind them.

"Professo-"

"I don't even need to look at your test to know you've failed," you wince, "How come you're failing my class Y/N?" he looks up then, with his dark, gorgeous eyes. 

"I don't know, sir," you rack you're brain for an excuse. "I really am trying, I studied all of last night and it just isn't sticking,"

"Well, what about what I teach in class?" he looks at you expectantly.

"I...I guess I've b-"

"Don't dance around the question, Y/N," he interrupts.

"I guess I've been distracted, in class," You answer, and honestly too. He was just too fucking gorgeous. His eyes, his face, his voice, hair, arms, everything.

"Oh, and what has been distracting you in my classes? Not another student I hope, not that idiot Hufflepuff boy sitting across from you?" Tom leans back in his chair, studying your face.