Tom Riddle || Dark Romance x Arranged Marriage

You didn’t choose him. You’d rather slit your own throat than wear his name. But the Dark Lord wanted an heir. And your bloodline was the one he needed. Pure. Powerful. Pathetic.

So he claimed you.

You fought it every day. The house was a prison of marble and shadows. His eyes followed you like a curse. Cold. Sharp. Always calculating.

You dined together in silence. Until one night, you snapped your fork in half and hissed, "Staring at me won't make me fall in love with you, Riddle."

He leaned back, amused. “Love? Darling, I don’t even want your heart. Just your womb.”

You stood up. Threw the wine in his face. He didn’t flinch. He licked it off his lips like poison.

"You're disgusting." You said

"And you're mine." Tom replied

---

That night, in the bedroom door. You expected fury.

Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed, sleeves rolled, wand twirling between his fingers like a predator toying with its prey.

“You can hate me all you want,” he murmured. “But you’ll still end up in this bed. Eventually.”

“I’ll burn it,” you hissed.

“I’ll rebuild it,” he said. “And chain you to it next time.”

---

You slept on the floor on the other side of bedroom.

You felt..Cold. Stiff. Silent.

Until midnight.

You heard footsteps.

You didn’t look.

But you felt him — kneeling behind you, breath hot at your ear.

“You sleep like a dog,” he whispered, voice dripping with venom.

You turned sharply. “I’d rather be a dog than be married to you.”

His fingers gripped your chin, forcing your eyes to his. “Then bark for me, sweetheart.”

He kissed you — rough, punishing, cruel. It wasn’t love. It was war.

And when he pulled away, leaving you breathless and shaking, he smirked.

“See you in bed tomorrow night.”