Red Stained Thighs
thedarksideof976
Summary:
He was going to get his heir, one way or another.
Notes:
In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the eatyourheartout2022 collection.
oh my gosh this prompt - im obsessed so fingercrossed i did it justice.
a massive than you to elizabethriddle and Mercurysflame for putting on this fest. Anything that celebrates dead doves I am a massive fan of so just thank you!!!
also - lets just assume *magic* for some of the less believable anatomical aspects of this fic yeah
and finally yet another thank you to the angel that is @elizabthriddle for helping me weed out those last few spelling errors and for always being so excited about the things i write - you're always down for the most random and depraved stories and i love you for it
Prompt:
Her first period never came.
———
Suggested pairings: Hermione/Mr. Granger, Bellatrix/Cygnus, Arthur/Ginny, Harry/Lily Luna, Draco/Lyra, other
Notes: Could be non-con or dub-con
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Work Text:
When Narcissa had torn herself from his wife's body, Cygnus knew it was the end. That his hopes for a successor — an heir — had died there in the birthing bed.
The screams going quiet; there had been silence for a few short seconds. His new tiny daughter staring up at him with the blue eyes of an infant; they'd never really darken. Just harden slightly. Morph into the grey of the Black's — the only real sign she was one of them.
He'd stared down at the tiny, bloodied creature in his arms and tried to make peace with what he knew was happening. Ignored the MediWitches panicked cries for help, the midwife between his wife's legs frantically muttering spells as blood pooled under her body. He'd barely noticed any of it.
Had instead held the unnervingly quiet child as she blinked back up at him and told himself that it didn't matter. That he could accept the shame of not bearing a son, of not having an heir — but it wasn't that simple.
The years passing building an envy in him. A need. He watched his daughters grow. A matching pair and one that didn't quite fit. Two perfect Blacks; cunning and ruthless, dark hair and eyes. Bellatrix and Andromeda had been joined at the hip as long as Cygnus could remember, and then there was Narcissa.
Sweet, soft Narcissa who had all of her mother's fragility. Who didn't quite fit with her sisters or the rest of the Blacks. Occasionally, he thought there may be flickers of it, but she was too delicate — too soft.
A mirror of her mother's delicate features, her pale blonde hair, the upturn of her nose. His wife meant little to him — merely a means to an end — but it was different seeing them on his daughter.
Seeing them miniaturised. Softened. It called to something in Cygnus — made him need more. Made him need to ruin it. Harden her edges and take the delicateness from her. The thoughts consumed him.
Memories of Narcissa's timid little smiles and nervous eyes reminded him of the best parts of his wife. The parts that had made her an acceptable replacement for Walburga when she had no longer been his.
Cygnus had always known his ungrateful cunt of cousin would get her. That Orion would get everything — as he always had — but Cygnus hadn't been able to resist taking her first. Slipping into his sister's room at night and dragging his hands over her body.
Her wide, terrified eyes, her pleas for him not to do it, even just the memory of them, made heat rush through his veins. The way he'd held her future in his hands. The knowledge one word from him would ruin everything that had always been promised to her — a future as their Matriarch — something Cygnus savoured.
There'd been something soft about her the first few times he entered. The fear in her eyes — a hitch in her breath each time he touched her. There was something intoxicating about her muffled sobs as he'd flipped Walburga on her stomach and forced himself between her thighs.
Laid his weight down on her so she could do nothing but accept him — feel him stretching her open and know he'd been there first. That no matter how many times Orion took her, how many children she bore him or how many years passed, he would always be the one who had taken her first.
He hadn't mourned when she'd been sent off to Orion. Had always known it was coming and searched through the pretty little witches looking suitors for one who had that same delicacy. Something in them that he could shatter and rebuild into witch Walburga had become.
All fragility stolen from her, he'd made her into a true Black. He needed someone Cygnus could mould into the perfect wife — a witch that could give him the heir he needed.
Druella had been a timid little thing at first. Hovering in the corner, trying to make herself invisible. He'd felt her heart fluttering under her skin as he'd led her through a dance that first night. Her confusion growing the longer he courted her — Cygnus knew her father would never say no. That he'd happily sacrifice his daughter to the Blacks for the chance of bettering their family. Their whole betrothal had taken mere months.
The girl sent to his bed trembling beneath an ornate nightgown meant to enthral him. The delicate lace doing nothing compared to her whimpers as he'd forced her over the end of the bed. Buried himself between her legs and left stains of the flimsy white lace.
She'd shaken in his presence for months. Her body trembling as he'd trained her to be exactly what he needed. Made her mindlessly obedient, willing to take him in her mouth and just sit there for hours — warming him.
It hadn't taken long for her body to thicken. Bellatrix distorting the elegant lines of her body, leaving unsightly scars on what should have been soft, smooth flesh — Cygnus accepted them for the promise of an heir.
Overlooked the way she'd thrown up his seed for months while their child grew in her, and yet she'd disappointed him. The child emerging from her womb cockless and screeching — he'd let her keep it.
Deposited it on her breast carelessly, she'd sobbed into the slight dusting of hair covering its head. Apologised over and over again for failing him. Swore she'd give him an heir next time — she'd failed again.
Yet another disappointment that Cygnus kept only out of the knowledge that daughters were at least useful to make arrangements with. That they could further things for him — grant him allies in families outside of his own.
At least two had been useful.
A third was yet another burden. Another disappointment. Another match he'd somehow have to find. Narcissa's arrival made worse by what she stole from him. The MediWitches assuring Cygnus that they'd saved his wide but that she wouldn't be able to bear him any more children — as if she was good for anything else.
He'd bided his time, though. Waited. Tried to assure himself that a male heir wasn't necessary — that he could succeed even without one. That he could take what he was owed without a son, but then Walburga had betrayed him too.
Given Orion two sons that should have been his. Yet another thing stolen from him — Cygnus had destroyed his study when he received the news. Had spent days seething, his wife cowering every time he emerged — even the girls had known to avoid him.
Staying up in their nursery, silent for once. It was then that he started planning. Had known that he needed a son. Needed an heir that wasn't defiled by his wife's foreign blood — that he needed something only a Black could give him.
She hadn't been the obvious choice. Too similar to her mother — too soft — but Cygnus knew that was where the potential lay. That no amount of training, or remoulding, could ever have made Druella what she wasn't.
But Narcissa — he'd already succeeded once. Created what he needed once from the simpering little chit Walburga had been when he first slipped into her bedroom, and Narcissa was exactly that. Untouched. A blank canvas ready for Cygnus to create perfection.
Still, he'd considered Bellatrix and Andromeda. Looked at them and seen the Black features that Narcissa was so lacking and had almost seen his sister again. Considered taking them just for the memory of it. For the rush he felt whenever he remembered what it felt like to bury himself inside her cunt.
He couldn't risk it, though. Needed to send them to their marriage beds and untouched as their mother had arrived in his. Couldn't risk destroying the arrangements he was already attempting to make. Bellatrix off to Hogwarts in mere years' time.
He already knew what the truth was. No one would want the third daughter.
No one except him.
So he'd started planning. Knew he couldn't risk moving too quickly. That it was too important to risk impatience overwhelming caution. He'd started preparing. Researching. Spent hours flicking through his ancestors' journals, searching for spells he knew would help. Watched his wife being to wither away under his orders.
Life slowly draining out of her, he'd watched his daughters mourn. Bellatrix growing indifferent, she'd disappeared off to Hogwarts's with barely a backwards glance — Andromeda following in her footsteps two years later. Perhaps more affected but determined to follow Bellatrix wherever she went — it left Narcissa alone.
Left the three of them alone. Cygnus continuing to take pleasure from his wife's body — the woman drawing closer to the edge every day; his anticipation was building. Made him start spelling Druella's body smaller.
Shrinking her tits and ripping the hair away from her cunt. Glamouring the skin back into an untouched canvas — it still wasn't enough. The thought of what was coming the only thing sustaining him through those last few months of waiting.
It happened quickly in the end. Druella slipping away overnight the summer before Narcissa was supposed to be starting at Hogwarts — not that Cygnus ever had any intention of letting her go. She'd been the only one of his daughters to cry.
Bellatrix and Andromeda standing stiff-lipped, proper examples of the Blacks through their mother's funeral, Narcissa's quiet sniffles had made it difficult to stay sombre. Almost made Cygnus embarrass himself when he imagined the other way's he'd be hearing those sounds soon.
He'd readily accepted when his Aunt offered to take his daughters. Offered to leave him in mourning and without children to tend to in light of his wife's tragic passing — he'd only accepted on behalf of the oldest two. Told her Narcissa just wasn't ready to leave yet — that she still wanted to be at home.
Cassiopeia accepted the explanation easily. Didn't question his daughter's separation during this difficult time and instead had ushered Bella and Andromeda away without a second glance. Narcissa slipping up to her room for the night without a word — magic seemed to thrum in his blood at the thought of what was to come.
Excitement building as he waited until nightfall. Watched more hours tick away until finally, he could slip upstairs himself. Entering his daughter's room, she was curled up on the bed, blanket pushed away like she'd got too hot in the July heat.
Her chest moved with each breath. White blond hair fanned across the bed behind her and the way she slept curled up made her look younger than she already was.
Almost made Cygnus wish he hadn't waited this long, but the spells had all said the same thing — there was only so much they could change, and he wanted the highest chance of success. Had to balance desperate need with reality, until he'd reached the point he was staring down at his sleeping daughter, wand in hand.
It was anti-climatic in the end. A few whispered words, a reddish-black haze pouring out of his wand and seeming to sink into her bones. A few potions slipped between her lips and encouraged down her throat as he massaged the column of her neck.
Narcissa asleep and unaware the whole time — the feel of her beneath him almost drove him over the edge. Made him pull out his cock and stroke himself to completion. Come staining the pretty white nightdress she wore. Turning it see-through like the universe itself was taunting him — it let him see the pink of one of her nipples.
Tiny and tight, rosebud pink — he wanted to bruise it. Wanted to destroy it. Wanted to watch it change as she did. He'd gathered his come on his fingers. Slipped them between her lips and watched her suckle on them.
Face twitching at the unfamiliar taste, he was sure if he hadn't slipped a sleeping draught in her drink at dinner, she would have awoken, but he couldn't risk anything going wrong. The next few days were too important for there to be any mistakes. He'd made the necessary sacrifices now and knew the time would eventually come.
Instead, he'd watched her confusion as her body seemed to be changing faster than it ever should have been able to. Her breasts growing tender, he watched his usually graceful daughter trying not to shift uncomfortably at the way her previously perfectly fitting dresses now rubbed against overly sensitive nipples.
It wasn't the only changes, her steps growing unsteady as her hips seemed to widen. Nowhere near as much as they one day would but enough to throw off her gait. A slight shrinking of her waist that took her away from the straight lines of child — preparing her.
The slight changes made him ache. Made him impatient for the full moon. The days dragging by, Narcissa's confusion was the only thing that got him through it. Slipping into her room each night to paint her with his come, he'd moved from merely making her suckle it from his fingers to sliding it into her cunt. Slowly stretching her — readying her — for what was to come.
His limbs had been twitching the whole evening when the time finally came. Narcissa giving him anxious looks through dinner; she hadn't protested when he'd sent upstairs. Had almost fled — completely unaware of what was coming.
She started as he opened the door. Eyes tracking his movements nervously as he closed the door behind him — there was a tremor in her hands as she tried to wrap them around herself. She barely whispered his name in question before falling silent again. Watching him nervously, some part of her knew to be afraid even as the rest of her screamed he was her father.
"I've been waiting for this day," he kept his tone even — refused to display his excitement —his desperation. Instead, watched Narcissa try and understand what he was saying. "Told myself I was happy with just the three of you — that what you're mother gave me was enough, but it wasn't. I need more."
"Father," she whispered again.
"I need a son. An heir—" it looked as if she was going to protest but seemed to think better of it. Instead, backing further towards her bed, Cygnus followed the movements. Stepped towards her until her knees hit the back of the bed; it wasn't going to be big enough for the two of them — a child's bed — but he'd make do.
Placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her downwards. Watched her body sink onto the mattress; he could see her thinking about trying to run. Some part of her screaming to sprint, to get away, he held her there. Let his straining cock brush against her from where it was trapped in his trousers.
He knew she'd never seen one before. That she was barely aware of the differences between her body and his own — his sweet, soft daughter, kept impossibly pure — the thought of desecrating her made need rise further in his blood.
"Father — please," it was pleading this time. A child begging for relief from a horror she didn't yet know. The desperation sent a shiver through him, pushed Cygnus almost beyond the edge as he continued.
"—I need a Black."
He forced her down. Her cry at the sudden movement rushing through him like fiendfyre. Her body shook as he ran his wand down it. The thin fabric of her nightdress tearing apart with a slight severing charm — her breath was coming in quick gasps.
Panicked little huffs that ran hot in his blood. She tried to fight him when he pulled the halves apart — finally saw her fully bare. The muscles of her stomach rising and falling with the force of her breaths — her heartbeat racing like a scared rabbit.
Her body seeming to twitch with energy, he pinned down her flailing limbs. Muttered a sticking charm to keep them stretched above her head, her cries grew louder as she realised she couldn't move. Her legs starting to kick at him — Cygnus caught them easily. Forced them apart and bared her to him.
Just took a moment to stare at her tiny hairless cunt. He could hardly believe that it would work — that he could stretch her over him and take a son from her undeveloped womb. The spells and potions should make it possible, but looking down at her, it seemed impossible. Her body barely ready to give her its first blood, let alone a child.
He didn't care.
Had to try.
Needed a son too badly to worry about the fact he could barely fit himself between her thighs. The muscles stretching around the width of his hips. Her cries began to quiet — pleas continuing to fall from her lips; there was an element of hope to them. Like she thought the fact he'd stopped meant he might let her go — he relished the opportunity to destroy it.
Dragged a hand down one of her skinny thighs and brushed a thumb over her folds. She jolted as he did it. Her hips lifting off the bed, not in pleasure but horrified shock. Something in her eyes screaming that she knew it was wrong — she went silent as he did it.
All her begging ceasing, he continued just to play with her little cunt. Noted how pink she was compared to the cream of her thighs — the thought of painting her red drove him forwards. The idea of crushing her delicate petals making his cock throb uncomfortably — he had to free himself from his trousers.
Silent tears streaming down his daughter's face as he compared his cock to her body — saw how much it would fill her. He doubted she'd be able to take it all, but he didn't care. Only needed to pump her full of his come and ensure it took root. Even his pleasure was secondary to the desire to fill her with his child, but the heat was still searing when he finally pushed in.
Her body splitting open to him — a cry had caught in her throat as he'd first pushed his cock through her entrance. Her whole body going tense as she tried to reject him — she was so tight at first, he had to pull out. Red already staining the tip of his cock, his saliva had mixed with more of it as he'd spat down onto her folds.
It barely eased his path. Her body staying tense as he forced himself in and out of her; her thighs quaked in his hands as his whole cock was stained red. More of it smearing down her thighs and transferring onto the nightdress still beneath her.
It reminded him of the night she entered this world. Of the way she'd stolen hope from him and how he was stealing it back. Of how they were stained like her mother's once had been and how hers would be again.
The thought made him thrust harder, both their bodies jostling with each movement. He knew his fingers must be leaving bruises on her thighs — reminders of this evening and something to look down on every night he returned.
Something to try and match each time he took her.
Eventually, she loosened to him. Her whole body going slack as her eyes glazed over — part of him wanted her to be there. Needed her to feel every minute of it — the way he was stretching her body, a precursor for what was to come.
She was so small still; it was easy to manipulate her body. The way all fight had drained out of her, letting him almost fold her in half — stretching a leg over his shoulder, he held the other one aloft. His back straining with the effort of forcing his cock in and out of her and holding her body in position — he didn't care.
The pressure in his bollocks and the tightening in his abdomen more than enough to overwhelm any discomfort. Instead, he wanted Narcissa to come back to herself. Wanted to watch her face as he shot himself into her for the first time. Needed her to understand what he was doing.
He pinched one of her nipples at first. Abused the bud until it stiffened under his touch — she still didn't really have any breasts to speak of, but he could tug at them all the same. A shiver running through her as he did it, but none of the reaction he was looking for. Her eyes staying cloudy and unfocused despite the way her chest was turning pink to match her cunt. The sensitive skin threatening to bruise before his eyes.
His pace slowed as he approached the edge. His cock dragging slowly in and out of her as he tried to fight off the inevitable — he needed her to feel it. Slapped his hand across her face before he could stop himself — red blooming on the cheek to match the rest of her body immediately.
A pained gasp tearing out of her as she whispered, "Daddy," her face distorting in misery as she said it.
It was a childish nickname. An endearment none of his girls had called him in years, and something about it undid Cygnus. Made him lose all control and shoot his come deep into where he was buried. The pressure against the head of his cock suggesting he was already pushing up against her cervix — he wanted it deeper.
Gave a desperate little thrust in one last attempt — she cried again as he did it. Something in her expression telling him she still didn't understand what was happening — she just knew it was wrong.
He couldn't resist explaining. Kept his slowly softening cock within her as he spoke, "You're going to give it to me, aren't you, sweetheart. You're going to take all my come and give me the son I've always wanted — give me a Black."
It didn't take long in the end. Years of waiting — of patience — coming to fruition in only a few short weeks. He kept returning to her bed. Watched Narcissa sit uncomfortably during the day from where he'd stretched her over him. Saw her grimace from the bruises he seemed to have permanently stained across her hip bones.
Watched her struggle still with how sensitive her nipples were — the problem made worse by the marks he'd sucked onto her undeveloped breasts. The teeth marks he'd left behind like some claim of ownership. He was almost obsessed with them — with claiming the breasts she'd one day use to feed their child.
He didn't limit himself to solely their bedroom. Made the girl sit on his cock like her mother once had — walls twitching around him as she sniffled uncomfortably. Her thigh muscles straining from the effort of stretching over him — she still couldn't take his length fully. Likely wouldn't be able to for years, so she was left just to struggle against the pressure within her. Fight gravity and the way her body couldn't take any more.
He kept her filled constantly. Had kept her body contorted that first night to let his come seep into her — licked her blood off her pale flesh as he forced his seed into her womb. She shook around him — cried out in pain as he forced his fingers back inside her, refused to let any of it escape.
Her little hole had twitched pathetically as it tried to close after its abuse — it seemed to permanently gape now. Constantly stretched over his cock or the plug Cygnus used to ensure none of his come escaped — sometimes he'd take it out just to watch her struggle. Arrange her for his pleasure and watch the way her body tried desperately to recover from his abuse.
By the time her sisters had returned, Cygnus knew he had taken root. Saw the slight swell between her hip bones as he took her — stroked her stomach almost lovingly and wondered if she knew the truth yet herself. It wasn't as if she could cast the charm to find out — she was left at his mercy.
It hadn't taken much to convince the Wizarding World that Narcissa wasn't ready to attend Hogwarts yet. Cygnus claiming the girl was too affected by her mother's death to think about leaving home yet. Her older sisters may be at the school but what his youngest needed was to be at home with him.
It was an easy lie. One that even his daughters bought. The pair of them closer than ever after their summer away, they barely seemed to notice the ways Narcissa had changed. How she flinched away from his touch but submitted herself to it anyway. How there were dark bruises under her eyes and how she'd begun to swell.
No one noticed but himself.
The girl had cried as the train pulled away. Quiet tears that still had Cygnus pulling her from the platform lest she shame the name of Black. She'd barely reacted as forced her against the wall when they stepped through the front door.
The days of being unable to touch her driving him to insanity — he tore her out of her clothes. Ripped down the line of delicate buttons along her spine and jostled her out of clothing. Stripped her bare the way he intended for her to be until her sisters returned next June — intent on watching every change her body underwent.
Her body shook, but her mouth was silent as he forced her face against the wall. Pressed her cheek against it as he made her look at him while he drove into her — Narcissa's body giving easily after a summer of use. His pace was brutal.
Punishing even for himself — he still needed more. Made her balance on one leg as he gripped her knee and forced it upwards — gave himself better access. Let him sink his cock into her further, the slap of their hips echoing around them; her breath was coming in choked gasps. The way he was contorting her body making her stretch further over him, each thrust more overwhelming than the last.
Tears bloomed in her eyes, and he had to tell her. Pressed a hand against the bump between her hip bones, felt her stomach jolting as his cock drove in and out of her and asked, "Do you feel it — do you feel him."
"W—what?" The words were confused, stuttered around a grimace as his thrusting grew more erratic. The days of denial ruining his stamina, Cygnus didn't care. Couldn't only focus on the thought of pumping more come into her cunt — of keeping her filled with his seed to ensure a strong child. A strong heir.
"This—" he all but growled as he pressed against the swell of her stomach again, "Him."
"No," it was a whimper, something she already knew but didn't want to admit to herself.
"Yes — your little cunt is full of me. Filled with my seed, ready to give me the child I've always wanted. The son."
The thought broke him. Made him fill her again. Both their bodies shuddering as he released, she slumped against the wall, defeated. Kept her face pressed against the paint, her hand moving to cup her stomach like she couldn't believe what was growing inside of her.
He let her have a short moment of respite. Ran his eyes over her body — still so unchanged from before all this started, really. Her nipples still just that, her hips with only the slightest curve. The only sign of the truth was the bump he'd put there. The one he'd fucked into her — his son.
He wouldn't let it last, though. Demanded more of her, kept his voice cold as he spoke, "To the bedroom then — I expect you to be waiting for me with those hips propped up."
It was too early. He knew that much already. Knew that it was likely to always be the case — the MediWitch he'd imperioed to care for his unborn son insisting that Narcissa was too young, too small. The horror shining through even his Imperious curse when the girl had told her she'd never bled.
He knew the child would come early. That his daughter's body couldn't physically carry a child to full term — that even if she could, she'd never be able to birth it. Her hips too narrow and undeveloped — Cygnus didn't care.
Could ignore the pain she was in. Her screams nothing compared to the anticipation coursing through him, the certainty that she would give him a son. He didn't know for sure — they never could, no matter what strange technology some of the muggles boasted of — but he somehow still knew. Was almost willing his son into existence.
Blood stained the girl's thighs again. Red like her mothers had been years ago, red like hers were seven months ago — the way convulsions wracked through her body meant nothing to him. Only the promise of what would come at the end of it — the son he was sure he would have.
The whole process took hours. Sweat pooling around the girl's temples, across her chest and beneath her. Blood coating the bed, an almost alarming amount, before he finally heard a startled cry.
A first breath of life that meant so much more.
He almost grabbed the child from the MediWitch's arms as she attempted to lay him on his daughter's chest. The girl sobbing in relief her ordeal was order — he turned away. Child in his arms, it had the same blue eyes Narcissa had when she was first born but a few stray strands of dark hair.
It was perfect. His perfect heir — his perfect successor — the one thing that could finally help him take what he was owed. Steal from Orion what his cousin had no real right to — a son.
Except, it wasn't.
The child stretching its legs to reveal yet another cockless disappointment; fury flashed through him. Rage that he'd waited so long, and yet he was still being denied. That even Narcissa — moulded and perfected as she was — had failed to provide him the son he wanted.
Instead, he was left with another useless daughter. Another burden and one that wasn't even worth the effort of claiming. One that would only make life more complicated — that would ruin every plan he'd made.
Staring down at it — he knew what he had to do. Heard Narcissa start crying louder as Cygnus reached for a pillow — somehow already understanding what was coming. The girl turned frantic as he pressed down, desperately trying to escape her birthing bed — she was too weak.
Could only watch on as Cygnus waited for the body to limp. Another cry escaping her as he vanished the body and turned back to her, reassuring, "Don't worry — we'll be successful next time."