slytherin boys react

tom riddle: trying to break up with them but they're crazy

the cold, dim light casts a harsh light on his face as he sits across from you in the dank, isolated common room. his gaze is intense, studying you with an unnerving focus. the silence between you hangs heavy in the air. you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult conversation you're about to have. "tom," you begin.

his expression remains neutral, but you notice a flicker of irritation in his eyes. he tilts his head slightly, silently urging you to continue.

you take a deep breath, mentally bracing yourself for his reaction before you speak, but he beats you to it. "you want to end our relationship?" he leans back, a smirk playing on his lips. "what made you come to that decision?" he asks, his voice soft but with a hint of mockery. "having second thoughts about being with me?"

you feel a pang of surprise and frustration, but you maintain your composure. "it's not working, tom," you reply, trying to keep your emotions in check. you know you want to end things, but he's making it so hard. "i just- i don't think we belong together."

he lets out a soft chuckle again, his expression mocking. "don't think we belong together," he echoes, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "that's a pretty vague reason, don't you think? surely you can do better than that."

you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "we... we're too different," you say, meeting his gaze. "our values, our priorities... they don't align. we're always going to have conflict because of that."

he considers your words for a moment, his expression still guarded. "so, you're saying we're incompatible," he says, his voice still taunting. "because our values and priorities don't line up. how cliché."

he leans back slightly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "well, if you're not happy with me, if you don't think we belong together, then i suppose we should end things." he says, his voice suddenly calm. "but," he adds, a smile playing on his lips, "i can't just let you go without something in return."

"a fair exchange," he says, his tone almost pleasant. "i get something i want, and you get something you want. that's how this works, isn't it?" your heart skips a beat, knowing you might not like what he's going to ask for.

he leans in close once more, his breath hot against your ear. "i want a piece of you," he whispers, his voice eerily calm. "something to remember you by." he pulls back slightly, a wicked smile on his face. "let's see," he says, pretending to consider something. "a lock of your hair, maybe? a keepsake to remember you by."

a sense of dread fills you at his suggestion. "my hair?" you repeat, your voice a whisper. "that's what you want in exchange for letting me go?"

he shrugs nonchalantly. "is that a problem?" he asks, feigning innocence. "it's a small price to pay, don't you think? for your freedom."

you take a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "but why..?" you ask, hoping he won't make this more difficult.

he reaches out, his hand gently touching one of your locks of hair. "because it's beautiful," he says, his tone almost gentle. "but you know, i could ask for something else, something even more exquisite and... personal."

he reaches out his other hand, trailing a finger down your arm, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "i find your skin quite beautiful as well," he adds, his voice a velvety murmur. "i could easily ask for a piece of that instead."

a shiver of fear and repulsion runs down your spine at his suggestion. "my skin?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "you can't be serious."

he chuckles softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. "oh, but i am," he says, his tone almost playful. "why wouldn't i be? your skin is... intriguing. delicate and fragile, yet so resilient at the same time. i would quite enjoy having a piece of you with me, don't you think?"

you recoil from his touch, repulsed by his words. "no," you say, your voice firmer than before. "absolutely not. i'm not giving you any part of my body."

he pauses for a moment, seeming to consider something. "hm, that's a pity.. let's see, what could it be...?" he says, his eyes roaming over you. "ah, yes. i think i know exactly what i want." he leans in even closer, closing the distance between you. "i want one last kiss," he whispers, his breath brushing against your cheek. "one final memory to hold onto. just one kiss..."

you're taken aback, he was never one for intimacy. but something within you snaps, your resolve weakening. you find yourself leaning closer, your body betraying your mind's better judgement. "okay," you whisper, the word escaping your lips before you can stop it.

his hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you to him and with that, he closes the gap between you, his lips claiming yours fiercely. his lips crush yours in a passionate kiss, his mouth greedily devouring yours as if trying to claim ownership. in the heat of the moment, his teeth sink into your lower lip, causing it to bleed. you let out a gasp of pain, the coppery taste of blood mixing with the taste of his lips.

he suddenly pulls back, his eyes dilated and his breath coming in ragged gasps. he notices the blood on your lip, a look of dark satisfaction crossing his face. he brings his thumb to your mouth, gently dabbing at the trickle of blood from your lip, his touch almost reverent.

he lifts his thumb to his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the blood. a low sound of satisfaction escapes him as he savors the taste on his tongue. he looks back at you, his gaze dark and possessive. "you taste... exquisite," he says, his voice a low growl. "i could easily become addicted to the taste of you."