slytherin boys react

tom riddle: haunting them after they killed you

he's sitting in an armchair, a worn-down leather chair, completely immersed in a book. the room is quiet except for the occasional sound of pages turning. suddenly, you silently appear, without a sound. you approach him and sit on his lap, settling into the familiar position.

he doesn't even look up from his book, used to your unexpected appearances. his hand absentmindedly rests on your thigh as he continues reading. "you're a terrible distraction," he finally speaks, still not looking up from the pages. he sighs, reluctantly putting the book down on the table next to him. "always barging in and demanding my attention,"

"can you blame me for wanting your attention? it's the only way you can repay me for helping create your first horcrux." you say, innocently batting your eyelashes. he rolls his eyes, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "always finding some way to bring that up," he says, his hand idly tracing patterns on your thigh. "you never let me forget."

"why would i?" you ask, leaning closer to him. "you should never forget your first." you say, playing with the soft fabric of his shirt. "you wouldn't have me any other way, you prefer me dead and stuck here." you say, your fingers brushing against his hair, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

he lets out another sigh, trying to remain composed, even though your touch is messing with his thoughts. "i prefer you quiet and obedient," he says, his hand gripping your thigh tighter.

you chuckle, knowing you have him right where you want him. "well, what do you expect? you killed me, i won't let you rest." you reply, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

he leans back in the chair, his hand roaming your body, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you. "i expect you to be a good girl and do as you're told," he says, his voice low and firm. you pout, feigning innocence. "but being good is so boring," you murmur, your fingers moving to the top button of his shirt, undoing it.

his breath hitches as he feels your fingers on his shirt, a mix of annoyance and desire coursing through him. "you're always testing my patience," he says, his hand on your thigh tracing a path towards your hip. "sometimes i wonder if i should just find a way to silence you forever."

you laugh, knowing he won't do anything of the sort. "you can try, but i'll just come back and haunt you," you say, your hand moving to the next button on his shirt. "you can't get rid of me, i'm a part of you now."

he grabs your wrist, stopping your hand from unbuttoning his shirt any further. he looks at you, his grip tight around your wrist. "don't test me, you may think you know everything, but i still have power over you."

you smile, enjoying the way he tries to assert dominance. "oh, do you?" you challenge, not backing down. "it's the opposite, actually." you say. "don't you know?" you laugh, your free hand tracing a path down his chest. "i know your darkest desires, your secrets, everything. you know i'm the only one who can understand you."

he scoffs, trying to maintain his composure even though your touch is igniting a fire within him. "don't act like you have me all figured out," he says, his grip on your wrist growing tighter. "you may know some things, but you don't know everything."

you lean in, your lips brushing against his ear. "oh, but i know enough," you whisper. "i know how much you crave power, how much you yearn for control. and yet, i'm the only one you can't control."

he shudders at your words, fighting against the wave of desire coursing through him. "and what makes you think you're so special?"

you chuckle, pressing your body against his. "because i'm your obsession," you say, your hand moving to his neck, tracing his jawline. "i'm a part of you, and you can't get rid of me no matter how much you try. i'm your first, no one will ever compare to me and you know it."

he struggles to keep his cool as you continue to torment him with your words and touch. "you're cocky for a dead girl," he grits out, trying to resist the pull he feels towards you.

"and you're stubborn for a living boy," you reply, your hand moving to the back of his head, tangling in his hair. "but i know the truth. you can pretend all you want, but i know how much you want me, how much you need me. you love seeing me around, you love being reminded of the fact you killed me."

he lets out a shaky breath as your words sink in, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over him. "yes," he admits in a hoarse whisper, his hand on your wrist tightening almost painfully. "i loved being able to control you, having that power over you." he says, his eyes locking onto yours.

"and yes," he continues, "i loved being able to end you, to have that control over your existence," he confesses, the words leaving his lips as if he can't hold them in anymore. he's gripping your wrist so tightly you can feel his nails dig into your surreal body, his breathing ragged as he struggles with the weight of his confession.

"but in doing so, i also gave you power over me. now i'm the one who's haunted, tormented by the memory of you, of what i did to you." he says, his eyes searching yours. "i know, deep down, i've given you a hold over me that i can't shake." he admits, his voice heavy with regret. "and you're right, as much as i deny it, i crave your presence, your taunts, your reminders of what i did."

he releases your wrist, his hand moving to cup your face, a mix of desire and longing in his eyes. "you're my obsession," he whispers, his touch gentle yet possessive. "you've woven yourself so deeply into my psyche that i can't tear you free no matter how much i try."