Keep Me Close to You

by Roelette

Summary:

The nursery was alive with noise again. Bright, tumbling chatter filled the air as though the Deep Deep Woods had been nothing but a bad dream. Laughter bubbled, songs started up as if the world had only known joy.

To anyone looking, Raggedy Ann was still herself... sweet, gentle, dependable, the heart of the nursery. But she felt it in every seam. A heaviness that no thread could ever mend.

Raggedy Andy had always known he wasn't like the others.

 

The Raggedys were supposed to be simple, soft floppy huggable dolls made of rag and stuffings, with their stitched or painted smiles, hearts filled with love, and maybe once, when he was new, he had been that. 

 

But he supposed things had changed.

 

Marcella still hugged him the same, made him join in tea parties and dancing lessons, whatever. The other dolls still treated him like their old friend, the mischievous boy who laughed too loud and leapt before he looked. 

 

And Raggedy Ann...

 

Ann treated him like he was whole. Like he was good.

 

That was the worst part.

 

She believed in him so completely, and he loved her for it. But love twisted in him, deeper than what was right. At night, when everyone else in the playroom lay quiet, Andy would watch her gently cross the nursery and feel that storm surge inside him again.

 

It wasn't her fault. 

 

It was never her fault. 

 

Ann didn't know what she did to him when she smiled, when she tucked his hand into hers, when she leaned against him like he was safety itself. She didn't see the way he blushes to her, the way his cotton insides felt knotted with want.

 

She was his sister. His closest companion. His everything. 

 

From the day Marcella brought him to the nursery, Ann had been there, her soft ragged hand in his, her presence warming the corners of his little world. She guided him, scolded him gently when he was reckless, comforted him when fear crept in.

 

Somewhere along the way, Andy realized he loved her. 

 

Not the way a brother should.

 

He tried to bury it. Tried to be what she needed... a protector, a friend, a brother, but the more he hid, the heavier it grew. Every time she smiled at him, every time her yarn hair brushed his cheek when she hugged him, the storm inside him swelled.

 

... 

 

The attic didn't help. 

 

He had stumbled across such dirty magazines tucked in a trunk. Pages filled with things dolls were never meant to see. He had read them, memorized them, dreamed of them. Not with strangers. Not with anyone else. 

 

Always with her.

 

When he found those pulp porn magazines in the attic trunk, it was like someone had ripped a seam wide open. The pictures were crude, the words filthier still, but they gave shape to his hunger, painted a map he could follow in his mind. And every line, every whispered act, he imagined with her.

 

He hated himself for it. It made him sick. He told himself he wouldn't cross that line. He shouldn't.

 

And yet... 

 

When she had handed him that paper flower long ago, her eyes shining with worry after the starch had stiffened his body, Andy had nearly broken then and there. 

 

She had believed so deeply in him, her silly brother who was always rushing ahead, and given him something innocent, fragile, hers. The sweetness of it, the innocence, her love was so pure, and it only made his thoughts and feelings sharper.

 

Uglier.

 

He had kept it close since, pressed against his chest as if the crumpled petals could hold him together, but instead of making him better, the flower only reminded him of what he wanted most.

 

---

 

The trees loomed tall and crooked, their branches like arms clawing at the night sky. The canopy above pressed shadows all around them, knitting so tightly that the path ahead felt more like a tunnel than a forest. Even the crickets had stilled.

 

The moon struggled to push its light through those trees, casting only scraps of silver on the path. Every shadow seemed to crawl closer, every rustle of leaves whispering something unseen.

 

In the hush of that eerie place, the two ragdoll siblings had sang.

 

Candy hearts and paper flowers...

 

Their little voices were soft, tender, yet steady. Each note wrapped around them both like a blanket, weaving through the trees, chasing the shadows back.

 

The song did not end when their voices fell silent. It hung in the air like mist, woven into the hush of the trees, each word dissolving into the shadows but never leaving. 

 

Their shared melody carried itself on the breath of the dark forest, a reminder of sweetness in a place that seemed to know none.

 

Ann's soft voice trailed away, trembling, as though she were afraid of even the silence would swallow her whole. The shadows of the trees pressed close, their twisted branches reaching overhead, muting the moonlight until the path before them was swallowed in shifting dark.

 

Andy kept her hand tight in his, giving her a firm squeeze. "See, Annie..?" he said quietly, his smile gentle. "Nothin' to be afraid of. As long as I'm here with you, the woods can't hurt us..."

 

Ann tried to return his smile, but her lips quivered. She pressed closer against him, clutching the side of his shirt with her free hand. Her yarn hair brushed his cheek as she whispered, "It's so dark in here Andy, what if we get lost forever..?”

 

"We won't," he said at once. His tone was steady, more certain than he felt. "We'll find our way through..."

 

The wind sighed through the canopy above, making the paper flower tucked in Andy's pocket stir faintly, as though remembering. 

 

He thought of the day Ann had given it to him, her eyes filled with gentleness, her hands careful as she'd pressed it into his palm. That same devotion shone in her now, though shaded by fear. 

 

She trusted him completely.

 

Ann clung to Andy's hand as though the song itself lived there in his palm, pressed warm and steady against hers as for she still had trembled a bit with fear, every branch had looked like a claw, every rustle like something lurking in the dark. Her brother's voice had wrapped around her like a quilt, softening the edges of her dread moments ago.

 

Now without the singing, the silence of the Deep Deep Woods returned, heavier than before.

 

The trees loomed impossibly tall, their bark etched with shadows that twisted into faces when they dared look too long. Their branches knit together overhead, weaving a roof that smothered even the boldest rays of moonlight. The air was damp, close, smelling of moss and earth, as if the woods themselves had been sealed shut for a hundred years.

 

Ann's yarn hair brushed against her cheeks when she shivered, though the air was not cold. She pulled closer to Andy, the constant drum of her candy heart loud in her ears.

 

She tried to be brave, she always did... but her button eyes flicked nervously at every sound.

 

"Andy," she whispered, voice fragile as the rotten leaves beneath their feet, "what if we never get back home...?"

 

Andy tightened his grip. "We will, somehow" his voice was steadier than he felt. 

 

He had to be strong, for her. For them both. "I'll get us through, Annie. We'll find Babette, and I promised I'll always protect you..." he kept his voice soft as he could, soothing, the way it had been during the song.

 

His certainty almost filled the air, stronger than the shadows around them. Ann wanted to believe it, and for a moment she did. She always did with him. Andy had been her anchor for as long as she could remember, the one who steadied her when her knees wobbled, who stood taller when she shrank back.

 

Her brother stopped walking. His grip on her hand did not loosen.

 

Ann blinked up at him. "W.. Why are we stopping? We have to find Babette-"

 

"Just... wait a minute," Andy said, his voice soft but almost hoarse. "You're shaking, Ann. Sit with me, just for a bit, why don't ya..?"

 

Her brows knitted, uncertain, but when he guided her toward the base of a gnarled tree she obeyed, folding beside him on the moss. She leaned into him immediately, clinging, burying her face in his chest. Her breaths came in small, uneven sighs.

 

Andy's arms folded around her, holding her close. The beat of her fear echoed in his own chest, but with it came something else, something hotter, hungrier, rising up through the seams of his body. He pressed his face into her yarn hair, inhaling the faint scent of dusk and nursery warmth. 

 

"You don't have to be scared," he whispered. "Not with me..."

 

Ann's voice was muffled against him. "I know... I know, Andy... you always make me feel safe..."

 

Her trust carved into him like a knife. He held her tighter, his hand stroking down her arm, lingering longer than it should have. His lips brushed her temple before he realized what he was doing. She stiffened, only slightly, then melted back into his hold as though convincing herself it was nothing more than comfort.

 

But Andy knew better.

 

They continued their search, their steps crunching softly over roots and damp leaves, the sound too small against the hush of the forest. Every creak of a branch, every sigh of wind through the trees made Ann squeeze her brother's mitted hand tighter. 

 

Andy never let go, his grip constant, sometimes too constant. When his thumb stroked across her knuckles in slow, absent circles, her chest fluttered.

 

The silence between them was not the silence of strangers. Ann wanted him to sing again... to fill the air with words that meant sweetness, not this scary and strange quiet that pressed against their ears and made her stitches ache a tiny bit. Everything is making her oh so anxious.

 

His silence seemed deliberate, as though he was listening not to the forest, but to her... the tremble in her voice, the quickened pace of her steps, the way she leaned into him more than before.

 

"D.. Do you hear that?" she asked suddenly, her eyes darting to a shadow between the trees. Her words came out like a gasp, too quick, too sharp.

 

Andy stopped. Listened. There was nothing but the beating of her own heart, the breath she didn't even need that she tried to steady.

 

"...No," he said finally, trying to sound as calm as possible as he could... His calmness should have soothed her. Instead, it sank into her like a stone.

 

Ann pressed herself closer to him, nearly stumbling when her foot caught a root. Andy's arm slipped around her waist before she could fall, holding her against his side. 

 

His strength steadied her instantly, but his hand lingered even after she'd found her balance again. The weight of it was firm, protective, but heavier than it had been before.

 

The forest watched in silence.

 

"I won't let anything hurt you, Ann... I promise..."

 

And Ann, trembling but too tired to fight her fear of the forest alone, let herself believe him.

 

Yet deep down, she could not tell if the shiver in her seams came from the woods around them, or from something else. 

 

As they walked deeper, the forest seemed endless. No matter how far they went, the path only grew darker, thicker, as though the woods had no heart, only layers of shadow.

 

Ann's feet brushed against roots hidden in the undergrowth, her steps quite clumsy. She nearly tripped once more, and Andy caught her again, his arm circling her waist quickly, surely, holding her upright before she could stumble.

 

This time, he didn't let go.

 

His palm rested against the small of her back, spread wide, the pressure firm. It was meant to steady her, she told herself. Meant to keep her close in case she fell again. 

 

It stayed there longer than it needed to, warm and insistent, each step they took together driving that hand more surely into her.

 

"... Andy?"

 

"Yes?" His answer was smooth, too smooth, as though he had been waiting for her to speak.

 

Ann hesitated, then shook her head. 

 

"Nothing..."

 

The woods creaked above them, branches groaning in the wind, but it was the silence between their words that rang louder. Andy's thumb moved slightly, brushing a slow arc against her spine, tracing through the fabric there as though to remind her he hadn't let go.

 

Her chest fluttered. Not like before, when the song had warmed her... it was sharper now, quicker, something she didn't recognize. 

 

She could sense something feels off... but she tried to push it down, to steady her steps, but every time she breathed in, she felt his hand at her back, anchoring her, claiming her balance as if it belonged to him.

 

"...stay close," Andy murmured, his voice soft but commanding. "It's safer if I hold you like this..."

 

Her brother's words made sense. She was afraid of the woods, afraid of losing their way, afraid of what lurked in the shadows. 

 

Of course she wanted him near. Of course she wanted her brother wrapped around her... but there was something different in his tone, a weight that pressed on her just as firmly as his hand did.

 

The path narrowed, the trees closing in so tightly they had to walk in a single line. Andy stepped behind her, his hand sliding higher up her back to guide her forward. Every so often his gloved fingers through his mittens for hands brushed the curve of her shoulder, the edge of her yarn hair, never once letting her move without him.

 

Ann's breath came quicker. Each touch seemed to linger a heartbeat too long, as though Andy wasn't just guiding her. 

 

At one point, a branch snapped overhead, the crack loud and sudden. Ann gasped, jumping back. Andy caught her instantly, pulling her against his chest, holding her so close she could feel the press of her brother's embrace. His arms locked around her, protective yet almost crushing.

 

"Woah hey hey, It's alright,," he whispered. "I've got you..."

 

She nodded, face buried against him. Ann should have felt relief. She did, in part. But the longer she stayed in his hold, the more she noticed how unyielding it was, how he didn't loosen even when the noise had passed, how his grip seemed less about comfort and more about keeping her still.

 

Her mitted hands rested against his chest. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath that he didn't need, the faint hum of warmth beneath the fabric. She wanted to push back, to tell him she could stand on her own again, but the words caught in her throat.

 

Some part of her didn't want him to let go. For she fears the shadows might get them if they don't stay close as much as possible. 

 

"You're safe with me, Annie... always."

 

She wanted to believe him. She needed to.

 

Little does she know that he wasn't just asking her to trust him.

 

He was telling her she had no choice.

 

Andy drew her into his arms, holding her firmly against his chest. For a moment he forgot the woods, the pirates, even Babette. All that mattered was Ann, trembling in his embrace, trusting him to keep her safe.

 

Ann closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his shirtfront. Slowly, her trembling eased. Her mitted hands clutched the fabric at his back, as if anchoring herself. "Andrew..." she breathed, soft and uncertain, "What would I do without you...?"

 

He swallowed hard, his hand lingering on her cheek. "You'll never have to find out." His voice broke on the last word, as if it were less a promise than a vow embroidered into his linen skin

 

For a heartbeat, the woods felt still, just the two of them, wrapped in each other, forgetting everything else.

 

The forest was endless, yes. The deeper they went, the less the moonlight could reach them, until it felt like even the air itself had thickened into a dark curtain. The trees groaned and whispered above, their branches knotting together like twisted arms.

 

Ann walked close, her mitted hand clung tight unto Andy's. Even so, her steps faltered when the shadows crept too far, when the wind rattled the leaves in low moans. She leaned into him instinctively, her red yarn hair brushing his shoulder.

 

Andy slowed, tugging her back to him instead of forward. He stopped in the middle of the path, looking at her, really looking. Her button eyes were wide with fear, her stitched smile trembling at the edges.

 

"You're trembling," he murmured. "I can feel it."

 

She tried to pull her hand free, just enough to gesture toward the dark trail. 

 

"I'm alright. Just scared...but we can't stop now, Andy. Babette, and the Captain too- we have to keep going. Babette needs us..."

 

His arms went around her before she could finish. Her brother's embrace was sudden, urgent, pressing her against himself as if the woods themselves might steal her away. 

 

"Forget them for a moment..." he said, tight with something that wasn't quite anger, wasn't quite pleading. 

 

"I can't let you walk through the woods trembling like this. I need you to feel safe, Ann. With me."

 

She stiffened in his hold, her cotton palms flattening weakly against him. "But..." she whispered, struggling to sound firm though her voice shook. "She's out there, and it's dark, and she must be so frightened.."

 

I don't care.

 

His hand came up, cupping the side of her yarn hair, forcing her eyes up to meet his. His gaze gleamed sharp in the scant light. Ann's breath hitched. She had never seen him so intent, so unwilling to let her go on. 

 

"Andrew, please, we can't stop. Not now. Not when..."

 

He didn't loosen. The woods seemed to close tighter around them, every rustle and creak swallowed in the silence that followed. Ann stood frozen, heart full of guilt from what she believes she had caused for Marcella's gift being kidnapped, and confusion from what her brother is doing. 

 

She opened her mouth to remind him, to argue, to plead, but no words came. Not when his grip only pulled her closer.

 

The path was disappearing. Or maybe Andy had stopped seeing it. All he could see was her, the trembling, the warmth of her pressed so close.

 

Ann wriggled against his hold, not enough to break it, only enough to remind him she still resisted. "Andy," she whispered again, as if saying his name might shake him free of whatever had come over him. 

 

"We have to keep going. Babette-"

 

His hand slid down to the small of her back, holding her still. "Babette can wait." The words came sharp, almost bitter. 

 

"You think I'm gonna let us run off into the dark after her, with you shaking like a leaf? No. Not while I'm here..."

 

Her stitched brows knit. He had never spoken to her like that before, insistent , and so unwilling to hear her reason.

 

She could only let out the quietest little shudder. He's confusing her, yes, and that's what's scaring her. 

 

Something in him flinched, but his arms didn't let go. He embraced her and buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in like the faint lavender of old cloth. "I don't mean to... I'm sorry.." he murmured, though his grip only grew firmer. 

 

"I just... I think I'm just as scared as you are... I can't stand the thought of losing you. Not here. Not anywhere..."

 

Ann's heart tugged painfully. It was still Andy, her timid, gentle brother who once clung to her apron the day he first arrived in the nursery. 

 

"Please," she tried again, pressing her palm lightly to his chest as though she could push him back with gentleness.

 

 "I'm not going anywhere... but-"

 

"Don't," Andy cut in, surprising them both. His button eyes shone in the dark as he pulled back just enough to look at her. "Right now, I don't really care about her..."

 

Ann's breath caught, confused even more, but she didn't step back. Torn between duty and the warmth. The silence stretched, heavy with what neither dared put into words. His hand trembled ever so slightly as it held her, but his grip never loosened.

 

The woods had gone silent. Even the owls had hushed, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

 

Ann's voice was the only fragile sound. "Andy, please... we can't stop. Babette needs us."

 

Her brother pressed her tighter against him, as though the trees might snatch her away if he let go. 

 

She shivered. Andy's hands had always been gentle, now they clutched her as if she were the last scrap of fabric keeping him from unraveling completely.

 

Ann's hands fluttered against his chest, unsure if they meant to push him or hold on. His nearness burned her like a fever. Not painful, but overwhelming, and consuming. She tilted her face away from his, eyes fixed on the twisting dark where Babette's cries for help should have been heard.

 

"Andy..." 

 

His grip faltered, but only for a breath. His button eyes locked on her, dark with something she had never seen before. Ann's lips parted once more, but no words came. 

 

She wanted to remind him of Babette, of their duty, but the words snagged like threads on a splinter, caught by the way his hand trembled against her side, the way his breath came uneven as if he were as scared as she was.

 

The silence between them throbbed with an uncomfortable weight.

 

"We... we have to keep going." Ann whispered so softly even the forest almost missed it. 

 

Andy's jaw clenched. His arms held her still. Her brother's silence said what words could not: he wasn't ready to let her go. But he let out a sigh, laced with silent frustration. 

 

The woods continued to swallow them whole, pressed tight around them the deeper they walked. The moon barely filtered through the canopy, its glow swallowed by branches that tangled like black lace overhead. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of moss and rotting leaves, and each step seemed to sink them deeper into a place that didn't belong to the daylight world.

 

Ann clutched her apron in trembling hands as she tried to keep pace. Her thoughts kept circling back to Babette. Marcella's birthday present dragged off by pirates into this nightmare wood. Ann could still remember her painted lashes fluttering in fear, still hear the faint echo of her cries as she was taken away.

 

She needs me. She needs us.

 

All while her brother's hand on her wrist was relentless.

 

Every time she quickened her steps, his grip pulled her back. Every time her gaze darted ahead, his tug reminded her that she was tethered to him. He walked beside her, close enough that the fabric of his sleeve brushed her own with each stride, as though the very air between them was too much space to allow.

 

"Slow down,"  Andy muttered, voice low and frayed at the edges. "You'll trip in the dark."

 

Ann shook her head. "But we don't have much time-!"

 

Andy stopped short, jerking her with him. Her breath caught as she stumbled, landing against his chest. His arms closed around her automatically, possessive and unyielding.

 

"I said slow down, " he said, softer now, but the softness felt like a mask stretched over something raw. His button eyes gleamed in the sliver of faint moonlight, fixed wholly on her.

 

Ann's heart hammered in her stitched chest. She pressed her palms against him, meaning to push away, but the warmth of his hold froze her hands in place. "Andy... please! Babette-"

 

His jaw tightened. "You keep saying her name." The words came out like a growl, though quiet. "What about you, Annie? Don't you matter?"

 

Ann's eyes stung. The forest blurred through a veil of tears she didn't understand, confusion, guilt, something else she couldn't name. "... I..."

 

For a moment, the woods seemed to listen with them. The silence pressed so hard she thought her seams might split. Then Andy's hand lifted, brushing her cheek, almost tender, almost trembling. He looked at her as if the entire world might collapse if she slipped from his arms.

 

Ann's chest rose and fell in quick, shallow gasps. She thought of Babette, of the toys waiting back in the nursery, of the rescue they promised to bring back the beautiful French doll. But here, in this terrible quiet, it felt like there was no one left in the world but Andy.

 

"Please..." she whispered again, but it sounded weaker, a threadbare protest.

 

Andy's grip only tightened. Seemingly even more frustrated than before

 

And with that, he began walking again, dragging her along by the hand, deeper into the shadows, not loosening, not yielding, each step slower than before, as though the search for Babette had already become secondary to something else altogether.

 

The woods swallowed their path. And Ann's candy heart still caught between duty and dread. 

 

The deeper they went, the heavier the forest pressed on them. The trees stood close as prison bars, the canopy swallowing every trace of light. The silence was so thick that even Ann's soft breaths seemed too loud, echoing back at her as if the woods themselves were listening.

 

Andy stopped, again.

 

Ann's heart leapt. She thought he'd heard something, thought maybe Babette's pleas for help would drift through the trees. But no. Andy wasn't looking into the forest. He turned and looked back at her. Turning to face her. 

 

"Andrew-" she began, but the name faltered on her lips when she saw the look in his eyes.

 

Suddenly the woods felt smaller. His hand came up, cupping her face with a roughness that startled her. She gasped, catching his wrist with both hands, but he held her steady, button eyes fixed on hers as if she could never look away.

 

"...we"ll find her later," he whispered. His voice trembled, not with fear, but laced with something darker. 

 

"Right now... I need you."

 

Ann tried stepping back, shook her head hard, "Andrew we can't! Babette- she needs us!"

 

His grip tightened. "I need you more. At this moment, Annie, please..."

 

The words struck like a bell in the silence. He only smiled faintly, squeezing her waist tighter. 

 

The warmth of his hand shifted, not just holding her waist anymore, but stroking it, sliding down toward the swell of her stuffed hip. Ann's mouth parted slightly, uncertain.

 

"Andrew- w..what are you..?"

 

"Shh... don't be afraid. Not of me... M-..maybe this could help ya...? Distract you from being scared..."

 

Ann wanted to pull away, to tell him it wasn't right. But the forest loomed and her brother's arms were the only safe place she knew. She hesitated, and in that hesitation, his hold deepened.

 

"You'd feel safer when you're right against me."

 

Her brother's lips grazed at her cheek. A kiss, firm, claiming, nothing like the quick, childish pecks they'd shared before. 

 

Ann stiffened, but Andy didn't let her pull back. He kissed again, longer.

 

"Don't... Andy, please..." she whimpered, though her voice cracked with fear more than anger.

 

"Please what?" His tone was a little rougher now. His hand slid higher, cupping her chest, thumb stroking the stitched curve that mimicked a breast. 

 

"You don't want me to stop... not when I can make you forget how scared you are."

 

Ann gasped, fabric quivering under his hand.

 

"I don't... know, we-"

 

"Then let me show you." he didn't even want to let her finish. 

 

The forest seemed to vanish. All she could hear was his breathing, all she could feel was the press of his body. She tried to twist free again, but he held her tighter, lips moving over her cheek, her jaw.

 

"Just let me..." His voice was commanding now, "You'll feel better. I promise."

 

Until finally his mouth captured hers in a kiss she didn't wanna give, pressing insistently, his yarn hair tickling her brow. 

 

Ann's eyes widened as she froze, melted with a whimper when his felted tongue pressed past the fabric of her lips, exploring her. The taste of him was strange and warm, and it left her weak.

 

Her protests softened into little noises, confused and desperate. Andy groaned low and softly.. a sound she'd never heard from him before, and deepened the kiss, pushing her back against the thick roots of an old oak.

 

Ann tried pushing at his chest, but he was unyielding. He bent closer, breath hot against her cheek, lips hovering just over hers.

 

"Andy... d-don't," she whispered, voice cracking.

 

His arms wrapped around her before she could slip free. Her body was pressed to his. Ann gasped, tears springing to her eyes. She twisted, trying to turn her head away, but her brother's mouth found her neck instead, a hungry, trembling kiss against her fabric skin that still made her shiver as if it were bare skin.

 

Hands lingering where it shouldn't, a mouth too close, a breath that claimed more than it was given. Ann's body recoiled, but her stitches held her still, caught between the tree at her back and Andy's insistence before her.

 

"S.. Stop," She tried, those words fragile. 

 

Andy hushed her, his voice low, coaxing. "Just stay with me, please..."

 

The softness she once knew in him was gone, replaced with a fierce urgency. His lips pressed harder, insistence replacing the fleeting tenderness. Ann's muffled protests would slip out between them, but he swallowed it like a secret, only breaking away when she gasped. Whenever his tongue brushed hers, her voice faltered into a whine that sounded dangerously close to surrender.

 

Her chest rose and fell in uneven stitches, and she stared at him in shock. 

 

"Andy.. you sh- shouldn't kiss me like that. We're-" 

 

"Don't you say it. Not here and not now. In this place, it's just us. No one else is gonna tell us what we can or can't be, Annie."

 

She shivered, caught to his words stirred into her. His mouth silenced her again, hungry now, stealing the words as he kept pushing her back against the base of the tree. The bark pressed rough against her body as he pinned her there, his hands exploring, too insistent to ignore.

 

"Stop," she begged, her voice barely more than a sob. "Please... we have to keep going..."

 

Her brother's hands were already wandering, sliding down her back, gripping her waist too firmly. His voice was low, raw, rasping against the side of her head:

 

"I need you"

 

The world tilted. The woods, the search, even Babette herself faded into nothing but the boy doll clinging to his sister, crushing her into himself as though letting go would tear him apart. 

 

Andy would break the kiss just long enough to look at her, his smile trembling as he huffed, before he would lean into her again to kiss her.

 

God, she looked so cute, he thought to himself. 

 

One of his hands drifted back up and caressed her chest, circling his thumb somewhere where it feels even more strange. 

 

The rhythm of him against her grew steady, each movement sending sparks of confusion down her seams. Her hands pressed weakly against his chest, meaning to push. 

 

The forest tilted around her. Her thoughts frayed as her face felt like heating up. Ann didn't mean for her face to blush furiously. 

 

This isn't right. He shouldn't be touching me like this.

 

Another shiver. Her legs weakened. The bark dug into her back, grounding her against sensations she couldn't control.

 

Her voice broke in a cry, but the sound carried no clear shape, half protest, half something else. Ann didn't know if she wanted to fight harder, or if she even could...

 

She shook her head weakly, trying her best to swallow her whimpers as Andy pressed closer, every thread of him trembling with pent-up hunger. 

 

His hands roamed in ways that made Ann's seams sting with embarrassment and heat, over her arms, her waist, pausing too long at the swell of her chest as if memorizing the softness beneath the cloth.

 

"Andy.." she whispered, button eyes quivering with panic. "P-please, don't-"

 

He kissed her again, muffling her plea, his voice breaking against her lips. 

 

"I love you... Annie. I've always loved you. Not just the way I'm supposed to. I've loved you for as long as I can remember... and I can't stop now."

 

Her lips parted, trembling, as though the words physically knocked the air out of her. 

 

"Andy... don't.. don't say that. You know we're not-"

 

Her protest broke off as his mouth pushed against hers again. Clumsy and trembling, but filled with the hunger that had been bottled up for too long. His hand cradled her jaw, gentle but firm, coaxing, begging her without words to stay with him in that moment. His lips moved hungrily over hers, gentling only when her breath caught in a soft sob. He pulled back slightly, searching her face in the darkness

 

Ann sobbed against his lips. "Please... you shouldn't.." 

 

The kiss deepened anyway, his mouth moving with a desperation that kept leaving her almost breathless. His other hand slid to the small of her back, drawing her against him. 

 

Ann's resolve faltered, confusion blurring her fear of the woods. She wasn't kissing him back, and she couldn't break away from him either.

 

When he finally drew back, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath came quick and unsteady. 

 

"I can't stop feeling this way for ya, Annie. You can hate me if ya want, but I had to tell you. You're the only one I've ever wanted."

 

Ann's chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. She shook her head, whispering, "We're supposed to be finding Ba-"

 

"I told ya, she can wait."

 

Tears slid hot down her cheeks, soaking into the fabric of her linen skin.

 

When he finally pulled away, his mouth stained with the salt of her tears, Andy buried his face against her shoulder, holding her as if the woods might swallow her away if he loosened his grip, and Ann, shaken, let him. 

 

She hated herself more for melting, for trembling, for clinging back even as she whispered she doesn't want this again and again.

 

Because as much as she despised the wrongness of it, as much as her soul screamed against it, she needed the comfort of him too. So she wept silently, her sobs lost in the stillness of the forest. 

 

Ann's face was still damp when all of the sudden.. Andy pulled her down with him to the ground with the grass and moss, settling against the roots of an old tree. 

 

The forest gave no protest. No wind stirred. No owl called. Even the moss seemed complicit and cold beneath her back.

 

He hovered above her, his breath ragged, eyes gleaming like embers in the dark. Ann's chest hitched. She shook her head, tears fresh, her voice cracking against the stillness.

 

Not here... Please, not like this...

 

But he had already unbuttoned her apron, tugging them as it came loose. He pushed the apron aside before tossing is somewhere not too far beside them, baring the polka-dotted fabric beneath.

 

Ann gasped, twisting, but he caught her wrists and pinned them against the roots. His grip trembled, not from hesitation but from the sheer force of need. 

 

"Don't fight me," he whispered harshly, "I can't stop if you do."

 

Her whole body tensed, torn between terror and the old instinct to soothe him. 

 

"We're supposed to be looking for Babette!!" she whispered in a frantic tone, desperately, clinging to duty like a lifeline, hoping it can bring him back to thinking reasonably. 

 

"I don't care about her right now," His voice feverish. "I only care about you..." 

 

Ann's body quivered against the ground as her brother's hand slid to the hem of her raggedy soft dress, fumbling at the simple ragged dress she wore. Ann gasped, clutching his wrists.

 

His grip was steady, coaxing her hands away. He slid his hand up and between her inner thighs... just not yet, so he passed through them, raising his hand up as much as he could until he could finally feel the curve of her small breast directly.

 

Ann cried out, a sound halfway between shame and shock, the sensation alien yet unbearably tender. She tried to twist away, but her knees buckled and she collapsed back against the grass instead. 

 

Andy kissed her temple gently. 

 

"Shh, you don't gotta fight it. Doesn't it feel good when I touch you like this..? Let me show you, Annie..."

 

His thumb circled gently over the nub of your breast, pressing until she gasped. Her seams pulsed, heat blooming in places she didn't have names for.

 

"N-No..." she panted heavily

 

"Yes..." His voice was almost pleading. "Just let me love you, Annie..."

 

His other hand wandered lower, skimming her stomach, her bloomers rustled as his hand slipped beneath, settling between her inner thighs. She froze with shame, his touch even more invasive than she'd ever known from him. Ann stiffened, a sob breaking free. 

 

"Andy, no... d- don't touch me there... please, I'm scared..."

 

"I know you're scared. But I swear I'll be gentle, and take good care of you. You'll see..."

 

She shook her head, more tears rolling down her face. Between her soft thighs, the cloth softened and gave way to a neat seam, threads pulled taut like a secret waiting to unravel. 

 

When the tip of Andy's hand brushed over it, the stitches seemed to loosen, parting just enough to reveal folds of warm fabric inside, velvet-soft, stuffed that shifted under his touch as though it were alive. Each stroke made the opening flex and shiver, threads straining, as if her very seams ached to be undone.

 

Ann choked on a sob, her back arching against the roots. "Ah-! No, Andy, Pl- ease..!" 

 

Her plea melted into a stifled cry as he explored and stroked her slowly, deliberately, his mouth still on her throat, murmuring assurances she could barely hear over the pounding in her head.

 

His strength and body pinned her like iron. He let his hand roam down her front, pressing, lightly kneading through the velvety warm folds until she shuddered with shock. Her body betrayed her with each jolt, her stiches feels like it's tugging tight under his touch.

 

Andy leanded back up just long enough to look at her and mutter, 

 

"You're feeling it, don't you? Don't lie to me, Annie..." he said as if he was trying to convince himself more than he's trying to convince Ann. 

 

Her sob cracked through the air, raw and painful. She shook her head, but the sound came out strangled, closer to a moan than a protest.

 

Andy lowered his face to her chest, burying against her, nuzzling clumsy kisses along her small soft breasts, his hand that where once fumbling her nipple lowered to her waist, stroking his thumb idly. Ann squirmed beneath him, pinned, her yarn hair fanned across the roots like spilled threads.

 

Her body trembled violently, her fabric seams straining as his mitted fingers stroked over the place she had never dared touch herself. Every caress and brush drew another betraying gasp from her lips.

 

Andy's breath came hot and weary, absolutely loving the sweetest little noises his sister is making.

 

"That's it. Don't you hide from me. Let me open you up, Annie..."

 

The forest loomed, hushed and heavy, as Andy's hand slipped deeper. Ann's back arched against the grass as Andy's hand pressed deeper between her thighs, caressing her inner and outer folds and the pulsing nub over them with eager and trembling insistence. 

 

She cried out, her voice caught between continuous noises of protest and noises she didn't recognize nor did she know she could ever make. Breathy, weak, almost wanting.

 

"Andy, no... please..." 

 

Her words unraveled into a moan when his fingers parted the seam of her most secret place, he made an attempt with slipping inside the delicate velvety lips with her mitted fingers, he failed to do so for his hand are like mittens, after all. 

 

Andy only frowned to himself, although, the sensation of the failed attempt made her clutch at his gingham shirt desperately. 

 

Andy leaned back to her scrunched up flustered face and kissed her hard, swallowing her cries. His fingers worked tenderly outside instead, but firmly, easing into her softness, stroking the places that made her stuffing ache with warmth. Ann gasped, eyes squeezed shut, her whole world spinning as foreign pleasure bloomed inside her.

 

The forest around them was silent, except for the sound of Ann's muffled cries and the faint rustle of leaves as she writhed under him. Andy's hand worked between her thighs, insistent and unrelenting.

 

Ann shook her head again, she tried to press her palms over her face to hide her tears. "No, Andy, no.. please, please no more..!" Her voice was strangled, nearly lost in her sobs.

 

"You don't mean that. I can feel it... you need me, Annie. Just like I need you." His words were thick with longing, with certainty that twisted around her protests like chains.

 

She gasped when his mitted fingers pressed again, sliding over the soft folds beneath where no one had ever touched her before. The intrusion made her squirm, her stitched thighs clamping tight around his hand in reflex.

 

"Andy!" she cried, her breath catching in her throat.

 

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes burning with something raw and unyielding. 

 

"I- I'm not hurting you, am I..?" His tone was almost desperate, needing her denial even as he ignored her words.

 

Ann's lips trembled, but she couldn't answer. Her silence only emboldened him.

 

"...See? You can take me," Andy sighed and whispered, lowering his mouth to hers again. The kisses grew hungrier, his felted tongue parting her lips despite her weak attempts to turn away. 

 

His hand pinned hers down when she tried to push at his chest, holding her wrists together over her head with one hand with surprising ease so she couldn't hide her face anymore.

 

Her button eyes glistened, "Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered against his mouth.

 

"Because I love you," Andy said without hesitation. "Because I can't live another night without knowing you're mine." Her breath came in ragged sobs as he continued to touch her, slow but deliberate, making her ache in ways she wasn't made to endure.

 

"It h-h-hurts, A-Andy..."

 

"I know, Annie, I know..." His kisses rained down on her temple, her cheek, her trembling lips. 

 

"But it'll feel real good soon. I promise you that, just keep holdin' onto me..."

 

Ann clutched at his shirt as if drowning, her cries muffled against his neck. And still, Andy's hand moved within her, relentless in his need to make her body yield.

 

It went on for quite a while, until Ann's sobs had quieted into small, broken whimpers, her body trembling as Andy's hand finally withdrew. 

 

She lay against the moss, her flushed cheeks damp with tears, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. For a fleeting moment, she thought it was really finally over, that perhaps finally he had come to his senses.

 

But then she felt him pulled her bloomers down completely and tossed them not too far beside them. Ann watched as he tugged at his trousers, revealing a crude, pulsing length, thick and firm with stuffing, threaded at the seams to hold it together. he clumsily started pulling his trousers down completely as well, tossing them with her bloomers. 

 

He then pressed closer to her again, his weight shifting over her, the heat of his body pinning her down, pressed against her, insistent, aching. Insistently, he pulled her ragged dress down, just to expose her shoulders, her cute small breasts and her embroidered "I love you" over her heart.

 

Her eyes widened, panic surging anew. "Andy.. no.. d-don't...!" She shook her head violently, her yarn hair brushing against his cheek as she tried to turn away. Covering herself with her arms "You can't- p-please-!"

 

His hand cupped her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were glassy, desperate, but full of a terrifying certainty.

 

She pushed weakly at his chest, but his body was unmovable. Her button eyes brimmed with more tears as she felt him positioning himself between her thighs, pressing against the tender seam he had already forced open.

 

"Andrew... i-it'll hurt..," she begged, her voice cracking. 

 

"I'll be real gentle," he promised, though his voice trembled. "And you'll see- it's not wrong to be us."

 

He kissed her, swallowing her cries as he positioned himself over her. The head of his pulsating plush shaft pressed against her quivering velvety folds, parting it.

 

"I-I'll go slow...I'll take care of you, Annie..."

 

And then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her..

 

Ann cried out, a sharp, broken sound, tears spilling freely, her body arching against the moss, her stitches straining under the sudden invasion. 

 

Such pain she has never ever felt before in all her long little life ripped through her, raw and burning, and tears streamed down her face unchecked. She clutched at his shoulders, half in protest, half in desperation to hold onto something solid as the world spun around her.

 

Her cunt stretched painfully around him, stitches straining, fabric tearing just enough to admit his thickness.

 

Andy groaned against her neck, his breath hot and ragged. "Annie... oh, Annie..." 

 

His movements were shallow at first, testing, his hips rocking gently against hers as though coaxing her body to accept him. "Ohh, God, Annie," his voice so ragged. "So t-tight... so p.. perfect around me... so good for me"

 

She clutched his shoulders, shuddering helplessly "It hurts, it hurts!"

 

Every small motion sent shudders of pain through her, and her cries only deepened. 

 

"It hurtsss, Andy, it h-huuurtss..." she wailed as she repeated desperately, twisting beneath him.

 

"I know, I know..." He kissed her tears as if that could undo the hurt, his lips brushing her cheeks. "Just a little longer. You'll feel really good, you'll understand."

 

His pace grew firmer, his need outweighing her pain. With each thrust, Andy carved that promise into her unwilling body, binding her to him in a way she could never undo. Her raggedy dress she was still wearing crumpled. 

 

"You have no idea h.. how much I've always wanted to do this with you, Annie..."

 

Her floppy ragdoll limbs had gone limp than ever, her chest heaved with uneven breaths she didn't need, and her seams ached from trembling so hard. The heat that had torn through her moments before left her limp, a hollow echo of herself pressed against Andy's chest.

 

For a heartbeat, she clung to the hope that it'll be over before she knows it. That he had wrung her dry, that he would see her exhaustion, her tear-streaked face, and stop.

 

But he just continued. Slow. Purposeful.

 

It's like as if he was just getting started. 

 

Ann's head tipped back against the bark, a ragged gasp escaping her lips before she could swallow it down. "N-no... Andy... I-I can't..."

 

He murmured her name like a secret vow, his voice heavy with warmth. "Mhng, y..yes, you can. Just stay with me."

 

Her brother's body's rhythm found hers once more, steady and unyielding. Each press dragged another sound from her throat, torn between protest and something she couldn't name. Her hands pushed feebly at his shoulders, but they lingered there, clutching as though she feared to let go.

 

The sensation returned, but stronger, quicker this time, building even as she begged for it to stop. Her mind recoiled, yet her body betrayed her, every thrust striking sparks along her cotton insides, every shift making her shudder harder. Tears spilling more and more. It was all getting too much for her. 

 

But the truth slipped through her trembling, because it wasn't only hurt. It was the way each movement grazed the tender center of her, sharp but blindingly pleasurable.

 

The way her chest arched when his hand groped her, kneading firmly as though to shape her body to his will.

 

Every protest frayed at the edges. Every denial unraveled into breathless moans she couldn't control, tangled with her cries, shame burning hotter than the forest shadows around them.

 

Andy's thrusting deepened as he hoisted up her legs and put them over arms, as his weight pressed harder into her, the heat swelled again. Unstoppable. Relentless.

 

Her cries grew higher, more frantic. His movements kept crashing through her anyway, tearing her apart from the inside. Her back arched against the moss, her hands would curl into her ragged dress weakly every so often as if to hold herself together. 

 

Ann's voice kept breaking, caught between a sob and a scream, her tears spilling fast and hot.

 

And still Andy did not stop.

 

He kissed her forehead, her cheek damp with tears, and whispered those soothing nonsense over and over again even as his body continued to move, drawing every last tremor from her.

 

Ann collapsed into him when she felt like it was done, trembling, certain she could not survive another. But the way his arms shifted beneath her, the hunger in his movements undiminished, told her the night was far from finished.

 

Her candy heart sank, even as her body betrayed her again with a shiver, sagging against Andy, limp and trembling, certain she could not endure anymore of his thrustings.  Her breath ragged, her cheeks wet.

 

Yet his arms never loosened. They held her tighter instead, as though she belonged nowhere but there, pinned between his chest and the moss and grass against the ground.

 

"I don't want this," she gasped, tears streaking her stitched cheeks. "Andy, please- no more!"

 

But his lips brushed her temple, tender, reverent. "I know,"  he murmured. 

 

"I know it still hurts for you, and I know you're scared, but please trust me, Annie... You need this, you just don't see it yet..."

 

Her tears came faster. Her brother's words pressed into her, reshaping her protests into something hollow. 

 

She shook her head, but when he thrust forward again, angled to strike where she was most sensitive, her body convulsed, broken moans spilling out before she could catch them.

 

The sound horrified her. She bit her lip hard enough to fray the thread, but the next press dragged another sound, and another, until her denials dissolved into ragged sobs laced with shameful pleasure.

 

Ann's body quivered under his weight, her tears streaked her cheeks, catching in the yarn strands of her hair, soaking into his shirt where her face had buried itself in desperation. She could not hold back the sobs, nor the sounds that slipped between them, moans, gasps, cries that betrayed her at every turn.

 

Her throat ached with sobs she could not swallow. "Please, Andy, it huuurtssss. I can't a-a-anymore..."

 

And still Andy did not stop."It's alright, Annie... I'm here. You're safe. Just stay with me..."

 

His voice wove around her like a blanket, deep and steady, threading through her sobs until they softened without her meaning to, for only a moment. 

 

Her candy heart throbbed painfully. 

 

That voice, his voice, had always been the one to calm her storms, to guide her through fear. He had sung her lullabies, whispered reassurances, laughed with her until the world felt gentle again. 

 

That same voice now pressed into her ears as his body pressed into her seams, carrying her into places she did not want to go.

 

His hips shifted against hers, slow and deliberate. The jolt of sensation tore through her, sharp enough to steal her breath. She stiffened, twisting her head, her palms pressing against his chest to push him away. But her arms trembled with weakness, and instead of shoving him back, her mitted hand curled into his shirt, clinging as if she feared what might happen if she let go.

 

The shame of it burned.

 

She hated it.

 

I don't want this. Not from him. I don't want him like this.

 

And yet, the warmth of his breath stirred her chest. The rumble of his words in her ear sent tingles spiraling down her body. The sound of her name on his lips made her heart twist in ways she could not bear to acknowledge.

 

Her eyes lifted in spite of herself. Andy's face was close, too close, his features soft and earnest in the dim light filtering through the trees. 

 

His button eyes caught what little glow there was, reflecting it back at her like dark pools. He looked at her not with cruelty, but with a tenderness that stole the strength from her arms.

 

She wanted to scream at him, to shove his face away, but instead she gazed at him through a blur of tears, her lips trembling. He was her comfort, her anchor, her brother... for a moment, the sight of him hovering so close made her feel warmth she despised herself for feeling.

 

"Andrew..." she choked out, her voice breaking. The name came out like a plea. 

 

"I've got you..." he whispered, as though he were saving her, not breaking her.

 

Her whole body jolted as he his cock pressed deeper, the rhythm finding its merciless cadence again. She sobbed, arching against him, torn between the pain of being forced and the treacherous heat spreading beneath with her cotton.

 

Her mind recoiled, but her body melted against him, drinking in the solidity of his hold, the familiarity of his voice, the gentleness in his face even as he violated her, tangled her deeper in contradiction. 

 

She felt ruined, violated, and yet safe, impossibly safe, in his grasp. Her tears fell faster, mixing with her gasps as the warmth overtook her again.

 

Each time his hips pressed forward, a shock lit through her, sharper for how he angled against her. Grounding her, but his weight kept her pinned in place. 

 

The firmness of his hold, the way his ragged arms caged her so completely, sparked something deep inside her that felt like protection... even as it suffocated her.

 

And she hated, loathed, how that made her feel.

 

The woods had pressed in, dark and endless, their shadows swaying like watchful sentinels. 

 

Ann could barely see through her tears. Andy held her down, his breath warm against her yarn hair, his voice steady as he whispered things she didn't want to hear.

 

Every movement felt unbearable. His body forced hers open, his rhythm relentless, the pressure bruising her soft plush slit. She whimpered and shook her head, still begging under her breath,

 

"No more, please, stop... please, Andy, please..."

 

But her pleas only mingled with the sharp, shocking sparks that flared with each thrust.

 

At first it was mostly pain, searing, overwhelming, the way he forced himself deeper, the way her stuffing shifted uncomfortably inside her form, with each thrust, something worse began to spark through her. 

 

Something else began to bleed through. A jolt of warmth, quick and bright, striking her in another place she never wanted touched.

 

Each time his body drove into hers, his weight pressed harder against her, grinding where she should have felt nothing but violation. Instead, sparks streaked through her, unbidden, leaving her trembling into more confusion.

 

Ann gasped, the sound escaping before she could swallow it. Her head shaking as if denial alone could smother the sensation. The jolts kept coming, sharper each time, mixing with the ache until she no longer knew where one ended and the other began. 

 

The cruel rhythm blurred everything together. Pain and warmth, fear and trembling pleasure, until she felt sick with it. Shame burned her as she clamped her mouth shut, terrified he'd notice how her body quaked beneath him.

 

Andy's rhythm never slowed, each thrust carrying the same bruising inevitability. And with every strike of his cock inside her tight little cunt, Ann's world split further apart, her mind screaming in violation, her candy heart breaking, her body betraying her in ways she could not forgive.

 

She thought she would shatter if it continued. She thought she would lose herself entirely, and yet... she could not stop trembling beneath him.

 

The forest had gone utterly silent, as if the trees themselves recoiled from what they were forced to witness as her brother's thrusts pressed her into the ground. His breath was hot at her cheek, steady as his voice, steady as his rhythm.

 

Moments ago the pain was sharp, relentless, but threaded through it was something worse, something that made her want to crawl out of her own skin.

 

Because each time his hips rolled forward, his pelvic mound would rub against a tender nub over her slit... 

 

Her clit. 

 

The first time it happened, she gasped in shock, thinking it a mistake. But the next came quickly, and the next, until the pattern was undeniable. Each impact sent a hot spark racing through her body, shooting outward from that one point until her limbs trembled.

 

Her tears fell faster, "No-no, stop- it’s not-!!" The words tangled with her sobs.

 

Andy kissed her like a starving thing, each press of his mouth desperate, each breath ragged. 

 

Behind the fever of it all, guilt gnawed at him.

 

He felt every tremor in her body. The way her seams strained, the way she sobbed when he shoves his cock into her too deep. He knew he was hurting her, so so much, knew it by the way her cotton insides clenched and shuddered beneath him, by the way she shook her head and tried so weakly to crawl away every now and then.

 

I shouldn't... I shouldn't be doing this to her.

 

Oh brother, It's far too late for that.

 

The thought stabbed him, even as his hips rocked against her. Each time, her little body jolted, her breath hitching in what sounded like pain. Andy's chest ached. He would kiss her tears away as if that could undo the hurt.

 

But between the sobs, there were gasps. 

 

Andy took notice of the little broken sounds, trembling, uncertain, but not only pain. 

 

Every time the swell above his shaft hit against the soft nub of her cunt, every time the press of his weight struck that certain place, her body quivered differently. Her walls tightened around him, her breath caught in something sharper, higher, as though sparks licked through her stuffing.

 

His pelvic mound would brush against the little nub tucked just a little beneath her folds, a little over her tight entrance. 

 

That tiny nub, where the cloth, bunched tighter than the rest of her body, every time his hips met hers, the pressure landed there, and it would make Ann's hips twitched, her thighs quivered, as if they recognized the rhythm even while her mind rejected it. 

 

Each grinding contact with her clit sent a surge of unwilling pleasure through her, so sharp it felt cruel. She could feel herself growing tighter around her brother's shaft, heat pooling inside her despite the pain, despite her terror.

 

Ann whimpered, biting her lip hard, trying to stifle the sounds of her body's treachery. 

 

It's not real. It's not me. He's making me-

 

Andy faltered, stunned.

 

His gaze flicked to her face, tear-streaked, flushed, her lips trembling between protest and whimper. She shook her head faintly, but her body shuddered again when his hips pressed that spot.

 

His chest beneath hammered. 

 

She's feeling it. Not just the pain... she's starting to feel good, too.

 

A feverish thought overtook him, drowning the guilt with desperate hope. 

 

If I can keep making her feel that... if I can give her more of the good, then maybe... maybe she won't hate me. Maybe she'll understand...

 

"Mhhn,, You're starting to feel good, don't you..?" Andy whispered hoarsely, his thrusts grinding harder, more deliberate. "I can tell... you're really squeezing around me, Annie..."

 

She shook her head violently, denial choking her, but another spark flared as he bucked his hips forward without a any warning, making her back arch against him. A small cry escaped her lips before she could swallow it.

 

Her shame was suffocating. She had never felt so used, so ruined, and yet her body clung to each brutal collision of his hips, shuddering despite her pleas.

 

The nub of her cunt, the most sensitive part of her, had become her enemy. Each press of Andy's plump mound over his cock struck it again and again, dragging her closer to something she didn't want, shouldn't want.

 

Ann wept openly now, her cries raw in the dark woods. She prayed for it to end, prayed for him to stop, but her body quaked beneath him, traitorous, each thrust blurring pain and ecstasy until she no longer knew which was which.

 

She wanted it to end. She had kept begging for it to end, but her brother showed no sign of slowing.

 

Each thrust drove him deeper, his pelvic mound grinding against her clit, striking the tender bud again and again. Ann wailed helplessly, every impact stealing her breath in ways she didn't want to give in to. The cruel rhythm was breaking her, because her body shuddered every time, lighting up with sparks of heat that her mind could not smother.

 

Andy's shoe-button eyes were searching. He could see it, the way her hips jolted, the way her thighs quivered beneath him, the way her cries blurred into gasps.

 

"You're fighting so hard, mhng..." he murmured tenderly. 

 

He leaned in and kissed her harder, reverently, as if sealing a vow. Then, deliberately, he let his hand slip down, his thumb finding that trembling little nub of fabric nestled in her little slit. His touch was clumsy at first, circling gently even as his hips rocked along.

 

Ann gasped, a sharp, helpless cry that shattered into sobs. Her body convulsed beneath him, seams twitching as though she were being unraveled from within.

 

Andy's guilt twisted into something darker, needier. He kissed her jaw, her throat, whispering against her linen skin. 

 

"That's it, Annie... let me make it good. I don't want it to hurt you anymore. I'll love you until it feels right... until you can't deny it."

 

"No- don't- please..! Andy, not there..! No no no, not there-! Don't touch me there..!”

 

He didn't stop. His thrusts grew deeper, slowing down for only a moment to find a new rhythm, each one carving fully into her as his thumb rubbed her clit, coaxing more of those involuntary sparks from her. Her head tossed against the mossy grass, her voice training as she writhed beneath him.

 

His thumb pressed more firmly, rubbing in followed rhythm with his thrusts, forcing sparks through her. Her cries kept breaking apart into gasps, into shuddering moans she tried to swallow.

 

Andy's chest ached at the sound, but not just from the guilt this time. From hope. From the desperate, burning belief that he could keep turning her pain into pleasure.

 

That he could make her love him back.

 

Sobs breaking into sharp cries as pleasure tangled with the pain until she couldn't separate them. "S-stop.. don't..! ahhh-!!"

 

Andy's lips brushed her cheek, kissing the wet trails of her tears. 

 

"Don't you worry, Annie... just let it happen, don't be afraid of feeling real good with me... I'll take away the hurt for ya..."

 

He focused as he held her hip with his free hand to get a hold of her in place firmly. His thumb moved faster, firmer, circling and pressing just enough to drag her higher with every thrust, ramming his pulsating cock unto his sister mercilessly.

 

Ann sobbed, shaking her head, but her body betrayed her, her hips tilted, her breath hitched, her cries rising as something unbearable built inside her.

 

"I don't want this!" she wept pathetically. "It's wrong- it's wrong-!!!"

 

But her protest shattered as he rubbed harder, thrusting deep enough that his whole weight pressed the nub between his body and his touch. The sensation exploded through her, pleasure so violent it bent into agony. 

 

Andy kissed her lips then, swallowing her sobs as he didn't even want to give her time to recover from all that. Thrusting harder, rubbing her nub mercilessly. The rhythm grew overwhelming, driving her into a storm she couldn't escape.

 

The kiss deepened again, his mouth moving against hers with growing hunger, and she broke with it. Sounds escaped her, half sob, half moan, and she hated herself instantly for it. But Andy swallowed it greedily, kissing her harder, as though claiming every piece of her.

 

When he finally pulled back, her lips felt bruised, her breath ragged, her shame choking her.

 

Her brother's thumb against her sensitive clit felt like sweet torture, rolling it gently while his body drove deeper, grinding into her with unrelenting rhythm. 

 

Ann sobbed, twisting beneath him, the sparks inside her grew hotter, sharper, until her stuffings quivered beneath and her cries blurred into gasps she couldn't control.

 

She was growing more and more sensitive. 

 

Her shame was suffocating. She hated the way her hips jerked, hated the way the pleasure crept through her seams in waves she could not resist.

 

Until it hit her again. 

 

Another violent climax tore through her, ripping a squeal from her throat. Her body convulsed, her back arching hard against him, every floppy limb of hers trembling as pleasure surged beyond her control. She sobbed into his mouth, hating herself, hating him, hating the way it felt.

 

Andy groaned, holding her tighter, kissing her deeper as though the shuddering release was proof she belonged to him. She broke against him, her tears and moans spilling together, her candy heart felt like splitting under the weight of it all.

 

The first few releases left Ann broken, her ragdoll body trembling, her form arching beneath him as sparks of pleasure burned through her cotton insides. 

 

She collapsed, gasping, sobbing into her brother's shoulder, hoping it'll be over... that he would stop now, and that the shameful spasms of her body had been enough.

 

But Andy didn't stop.

 

He slowed only for a moment, brushing her hair back, kissing her damp fabric cheek from her tears. His voice was gentle, coaxing, but it carried a weight that pinned her down as surely as his body did.

 

She could feel her brother's cock throb inside her, still hard and needy as ever.

 

"There's more in you, Annie... I can feel it. Don't fight me now..."

 

Before she could plead, before she could gather the strength to beg for him to stop, he rolled his hips again, purposely pushing is pelvic mound into her overstimulated clit through her folds. His thumb followed, lowering his hand and circling that spot mercilessly, as though determined to wring more from her than she even knew she had.

 

Ann shrieked, her voice hoarse, twisting beneath him. "Stop! Andy, please-!! No more! I c-can't- I don't want-!!”

 

She tried to clamp her thighs shut, but he held her open, forcing her to take the grinding pressure. Her sobs broke into gasps, into choked cries that blurred between painful and shamefully sweet.

 

Ann's insides pulled tight, shuddering as she could feel another wave ripping through her. She convulsed beneath him, screaming into his shoulder, hating herself for how violently her body shook for release.

 

She collapsed again, limp, trembling in his arms. Her voice low, cracked and broken. "N-no more... please... no more..."

 

Her brother remained relentless. He kissed her tears away, his hips moving in steady rhythm, rubbing that soft nub of hers again, getting more confident with his pacing, knowing exactly how to draw the reaction from her.

 

Each thrust ground the sensitive nub between his body and his hand, a double assault that left her thrashing. She wept while clinging to him despite herself, desperate for comfort even as he tore it from her.

 

"Shh... it's alright," he murmured against her lips, holding her down as he thrust deeper, slower, deliberate. 

 

"One more, Annie... Just one more, for me."

 

Ann's candy heart ached so much, too much for her to bear, her mind screaming of how much she wanted it to end, yet her body shuddered again, already winding tight as his touch circled that nub where she feels the most sensitive, so overly stimulated, merciless and tender all at once.

 

She thought she had no more to give. 

 

Ann thought she had no more tears left to cry, no more strength to resist. Her body was trembling from the inside out, and she swore that her seams feel as if they were drawn taut, her cotton-insides still quivering from the last wave her brother had dragged out of her.

 

"Just one more, Ann. I promise." 

 

She wanted to believe him. She wanted the torment to stop, for his rhythm to ease and the pressure on that tender nub to end. 

 

Even as her lips parted in a trembling plea, his thrusts began anew, grinding into her with aching insistence, pulsed with each movement, flaring with unbearable sensation. Her limbs flailed weakly, but still the pleasure surged. 

 

When he slowed down for a moment, Ann clung to him, chest heaving against his, desperate for comfort. And for a heartbeat, she thought it was over.

 

Andy only kissed her forehead, then her lips, then moved lower, down her throat, where his mouth fastened to her linen skin. His lips lightly sucked at the fabric. 

 

Ann sobbed, weakly pushing at his shoulders. 

 

"N- no more... you said it was the last..."

 

Andy lifted his head, his eyes glazed, face utterly flustered, breath ragged.

 

"Just one more."

 

And then he sank into her again, deeper, rougher, his fabric lips landing to her chest this time. He kissed at the embroidered words "I love you" inside the embroidered heart a little over her breast. 

 

Ann wept as his kisses moved lower still, to her shoulder, her collar, each press of her brother's mouth leaving her more and more vulnerable. Her seams tingled, her body a canvas of his kisses she never asked for.

 

The rhythm of her brother's hips was relentless. The friction ground against her bud with every thrust, his hand circling it when her body faltered, forcing her higher and higher until another climax wracked her again.

 

She screamed, the sound breaking into sobs. "Andy-!! I can't- No more! Please! No more!!" 

 

But Andy only kissed her wet cheek, his own voice hoarse, almost pleading.

 

"Just one more, please... I need it.. I need you..."

 

Her world blurred into a haze of exhaustion and overstimulation. She lost count of how many times he said had said those same words.

 

The night stretched on endlessly, and Ann's body gave itself up again and again, betrayed by the merciless rhythm of her brother's hips and his arms that held her so tightly as though this were love.

 

By the time Andy's movements slowed, Ann was shuddering in silence, her fabric skin blotched with the marks of his mouth, trembling, her voice gone.

 

"... just one more."

 

As the night dragged on, something inside her began to slip.

 

Her tears hadn't dried on her flushed cheeks, leaving her face stiff with salt. Her throat ached from crying, from screaming, from begging. The sparks of sensation that had once set her seams alight now dulled, each climax blurring into the next until she could no longer tell where one ended and the next began.

 

Ann's mind drifted, floating somewhere above her body. She could hear Andy's voice, low and reverent, always whispering the same words:

 

"Just one more, Ann. Just one more."

 

The phrase became a chant, a rhythm that matched the steady press of his hips, the circling of his thumb, the tug of his mouth as he left another kiss on her chest, her shoulder, around her neck.

 

She began to lose count.

 

Not just of the times he said it, 

 

Not of the climaxes he forced from her, 

 

But of herself.

 

Her body trembled on its own, seams quivering, stuffing shifting with every jolt. Her voice no longer answered him. Only faint whimpers escaped her lips when he pressed too hard against her nub, when another release seized her without her consent.

 

But in her mind, she was elsewhere.

 

She imagined the song they had sung together earlier, about candy hearts and paper flowers... drifting through the woods like a lullaby. She saw his face as it had been then... smiling, soft, protecting her from the dark woods. She clung to that image even as his real face hovered above hers, eyes glazed with need, lips marking her cloth skin again and again.

 

She told herself this wasn't happening, that she was dreaming, that Andy would never... he could never... and yet her body moved beneath him, betraying her with every shudder, every arch, every pulse of that cursed nub of fabric.

 

"Mhng... just one more..." he whispered again, his breath trembling as he pressed deep, kissing her lips with desperate reverence.

 

Her mind splintered between revulsion and yearning, hatred and warmth. Part of her wanted to scream again, to tear free and run into the shadows. 

 

Another part wanted to melt into his arms, to believe his kisses meant love, to believe that surrender would make it stop.

 

But nothing stopped.

 

And when the forest finally fell quiet again, Ann was no longer sure what was real, as her mind slipped further from her trembling ragged body, searching for anything to hold onto. And it found the memory of their song.

 

She remembered how Andy's voice had wrapped around her earlier, when shadows frightened her and her stitches quivered with fear. He had sung for her then, soft, sure, steady. His hand had held hers, guiding her forward through the darkness, his smile lighting her path.

 

She wanted to wrap herself in it, to pretend she was back at that moment in the woods, her hand in his, their voices carrying through the trees like a promise.

 

That song had been her anchor, a promise that she wasn't alone.

 

Now, in the haze of her mind, she heard her brother's voice again, not rough and desperate as it was above her, whispering "just one more" into her, but sweet and melodic, carrying her through the trees, easing her fears. 

 

She clung to that voice, that memory, pressing it against her heart like a shield.

 

She imagined him as he had been, her sweet Andy, the one who had sung just to see her smile, who had looked at her with nothing but care. She wanted that Andy to be the one protecting her now, the one holding her close.

 

The two Andys warred in her mind, the gentle brother with the song and the desperate one above her now. In her drifting haze, she couldn't tell which was more real.

 

Her lips parted on a faint sob, almost a whisper of a tune, half-formed in the back of her throat. For one fleeting moment, she almost sang with him again, almost let the memory carry her away.

 

But then another wave of sensation ripped through her cunt, and her voice broke into a silent cry instead.

 

As her mind continued to float, her body no longer hers. Both the pain and pleasure, physically and emotionally, all blurred together into a dull, endless thrum. Her thoughts wandered far from her trembling form, clinging desperately to the fragments that once made her feel safe.

 

Her dull button eyes drifted across the shadowed clearing, barely focusing. Then they caught on a shape among their discarded clothes, crumpled in the grass.

 

A paper flower.

 

It was the flower, the one she had given him so long ago, when he had been stiff and brittle after being washed in starch. She had pressed it into his hands to remind him he wasn't alone, that she would always be with him.

 

And again, just hours before, they had held it together as they sang through the darkness of the Deep Deep Woods. She had believed in that moment. Believed in him. Believed that flower meant something pure and unbreakable between them.

 

Now it lay there, discarded, ever so slightly crumpled beneath their tangled ragged clothes, watching silently as her body was forced to shudder again under his weight.

 

Her chest tightened, hot tears rising fresh in her eyes. The flower blurred through the salt in her vision, and for a moment she hated it, for reminding her of what they were supposed to be. Of what they'd already ruined.

 

But another part of her, fragile and aching, reached for it in her mind, as though grasping that paper stem could carry her out of this moment, back to the Andy who had sung for her, who had smiled only for her, who had held her hand to chase away her fear.

 

Her lips parted in a broken whisper, but no words came, only a faint sob that could have been a verse of their song, or just another plea lost in the night.

 

Her gaze stayed locked on the paper daisy, her chest heaving with shallow breaths. The sight of it made her seams ache in ways her brother's invasive, violating thrusts never could, reminding her of gentleness, of promise. 

 

Her eyes blurred with fresh tears, her lips trembling around a soundless plea. She couldn't look away.

 

Andy stared and followed her line of sight. His movements faltered as he saw the fragile bloom lying crumpled among their clothes, the same flower she had once placed in his hands with so much care. For a heartbeat, his own chest tightened with guilt. He almost stopped.

 

But then he looked back down at her, her body trembling beneath him, glassy eyes shining with tears. And instead of pulling away, he pressed his mouth to her damp cheek and whispered hoarsely,

 

"Don't think about that, Annie... look at me..."

 

He rubbed her overstimulated clit slowly, firmly, circling it with knowing pressure while his hips drove deeper.

 

Ann gasped sharply, her back arching against him despite herself. Her hands pushed weakly at his chest, her voice cracking.

 

"N-no, Andy, please, I don't want-"

 

Her words dissolved into a sob as sparks shot through her seams, her stuffing tightening with the betrayal of sensation. The paper flower swam in her blurred vision, and she hated that her body responded even as her candy heart feels as if it's breaking.

 

His thumb pressed harder against the nub, rolling it as his thrusts quickened, each movement dragging her closer to another climax. Ann sobbed into his mouth, her body convulsing as another wave of pleasure tore through her stuffing, leaving her trembling and more broken in his arms.

 

Andy whispered against her lips, "That's it, Ann. Don't think about the past. Think about me. Right here. Right now."

 

And she wished she could not.

 

Ann's eyes kept straying to the crumpled paper flower on the ground, even as her body quivered under her brother's touch, each spark dragging her further away from herself, but that flower held her like an anchor, reminding her of what they had been, what they were supposed to be.

 

Andy only kept noticing, his gaze following hers again, lingering on the fragile bloom. A flicker of guilt crossed his face again, but it quickly gave way to something else, resolve, a desperate need to reclaim the symbol before it slipped from them both.

 

He reached out with his free hand, snatching the flower from the grass. The delicate paper crinkled in his grip as he brought it between them.

 

"Annie..." 

 

Pressing the daisy made of paper gently into her trembling hand. "Remember what this means... you gave it to me..."

 

Her mitted hands curled weakly around it, the stem trembling in her grasp. Tears finally spilled down her cheeks as she stared at it, the memory of their song flooding back, twisting cruelly with the sensation of both pleasure and pain of her own brother fucking her. 

 

"I didn't want it to mean this..." she sobbed, her voice breaking pathetically. "Not like this..."

 

"It still means love, Annie... It always will. You can't take it back, you can't take us back..."

 

He guided her hand, still clutching the flower, to her chest, pressing it over her heart. The petals brushed her linen skin, soft against the the embroidery over her candy heart. 

 

"Feel it," he breathed, his voice trembling with need. "The flower, my love.. and me. All together."

 

Ann's chest heaved, stitches straining as another climax built against her will, her body shuddering as sparks shot through her cotton-insides from the pressure on her brother ramming himself inside her over and over. 

 

The daisy crumpled tighter in her hand as she convulsed, her sobs breaking into gasps she couldn't control.

 

Andy groaned, kissing her neck, her shoulder, her lips, even as the paper flower shook in her grasp. 

 

"That's it... hold onto it. Hold onto me..."

 

But all Ann could think, through the storm of sensation and the weight of his body, was how wrong it felt, how the symbol of love she had once given freely was now bound to her shame, pressed against her chest as proof of her surrender.

 

The flower stayed whole, its petals bent but unbroken, pressed between her chest and her trembling hand.

 

Andy's lips lingered at her cheek, then her throat, planting kisses as though he could dry away her tears. His voice was hoarse, breaking between each thrust.

 

"Do you feel it, Annie..?"

 

She sobbed, shaking her head weakly. "It's not...not like this...it should never be like this.."

 

"But it did.." Andy insisted, kissing the corner of her lips, his breath trembling.

 

The paper flower quivering against her chest as her body writhed beneath her brother. The flower trembled with her, fragile but unbroken.

 

Andy's gaze was locked on to her and the flower she held. 

 

Another climax overtook her, sudden and violent, wringing a broken cry from her throat. She shook, arching helplessly, her hand clamping down around the stem as if to crush it, but the flower remained whole.

 

Her tears spilled hot, sliding down her cloth cheeks. Her lips moved soundlessly at first, barely more than breath. And then, with the last scrap of her strength, her voice broke in a hoarse, trembling whisper. 

 

"...we're brother and sister..."

 

Her brother froze for a heartbeat. The words struck him deep, piercing the haze of fevered obsession he had wrapped himself in.

 

Andy's rhythm slowed, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Every part of him screamed that he should, that he had already gone way too far, that Ann's tears and trembling overstimulated body were proof that she had more than enough.

 

But then he kissed her again, desperate, almost frantic, pressing his mouth to hers as if to smother the truth. 

 

"I know," he whispered against her lips, his voice breaking. "I know, Annie..."

 

His chest ached with guilt again. Each kiss he pressed to her damp cheek, each whisper of her name, felt like an apology and a confession all at once.

 

The paper flower shook violently between them, caught in the trembling of her body. 

 

"I'm so sorry, Annie," he breathed, leaning low and burying his face against her throat. 

 

"I couldn't stop... I didn't wanna let you go. If I love you this much... it can't be wrong."

 

Her body gave out before her voice did.

 

Her strength bled out of her like sawdust slipping through a tear. Her body sagged in his hold, trembling. Her sobs quieted, not because they stopped, but because they had worn her voice raw. Only the hollow sound of her breathing remained, uneven and broken. She stared through him at first, glassy-eyed and empty.

 

"Ann... Oh Annie... no matter how much you fight it, I'll hold you, and I'll keep ya... I'll love you until you finally feel it, too..."

 

Her brother's guilt gnawed at him, but his body was lost, his cock has a mind of its own, each thrust driving deeper as though sealing his devotion inside her. 

 

He told himself that if she clung to him, it meant she needed him too. That the way she quivered beneath him was proof she was feeling the love he forced on her.

 

Ann's eyes fluttered, her gaze unfocused, her voice a broken whisper at last: "Andy... hurts, so much..it hurts.. really hurts..."

 

His guilt was searing through him, his cotton insides twisting. But when she sshifte involuntarily tightened around his cock, he groaned with relief and began moving again.

 

He kissed her face, her throat, her chest, reverent and desperate, leaving more faint marks where his mouth lingered too long. 

 

"You'll understand," he whispered between kisses. "You'll see, Annie... I'm only loving you the only way I can.”

 

I'll keep making the hurt turn sweet, you'll see...

 

Her chest ached again, and not just from exhaustion. The warmth of him pressed against her, the devotion in his tone, it was everything she had once trusted, once found comfort in.

 

Ann's eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting back as if to retreat. But in the haze, her lips brushed his. Just the faintest, accidental press, born not of choice but of a confused, desperate longing for comfort.

 

Andy froze for a heartbeat, his breath catching against her mouth. Then he kissed her back, slow, reverent, trembling as if she had just offered him her whole heart.

 

Her mind reeled, guilt and shame twisting violently inside her. But her lips stayed where they were, trembling against his, too weak to pull away, too starved for comfort to resist.

 

Andy's lips quivered against hers, as though he feared the moment would vanish if he pressed too hard, but when she didn't pull away, when her lips lingered, trembling but still, his restraint broke.

 

He deepened the kiss, his hand gently cupping her cheek, the other still holding her trembling body tight against him. His breath shuddered between each press of his mouth, as though he couldn't believe she was letting him.

 

"Ann...mhn.." he whispered against her lips, kissing her again, again, each word swallowed into her mouth. "Annie,,, mmhn, I love you,, I love you, I love you..."

 

Her body stiffened at first, shame rising like bile in her cotton insides. 

 

She shouldn't... and yet her lips, trembling, began to move against his, hesitant, searching, as though her body was reaching for comfort her mind refused to accept.

 

The warmth of him enveloped her, his chest pressing to hers, his arms sealing her in. His kisses rained down not only on her lips but along her jaw, her cheek, her, the seams on her neck, her trembling throat. 

 

Ann gasped when his lips closed at her collar, the tender place where neck met chest. She clutched the paper daisy tighter as her free hand twitched as if to push him away again, but instead it found his shirt, clutching weakly at the fabric.

 

"You kissed me, you came to me, Ann. Don't take it back. Please, don't take it back..."

 

Her tears dampened his mouth as he returned to her lips, their kiss deeper now, tangled with sobs. Ann's mind whirled, shame, fear, denial, but beneath it all, a sickening warmth spread, a longing for the comfort of his closeness.

 

Ann drifted further into the haze, clinging to him not out of desire, but out of the fragile need for any comfort in the storm. 

 

She hated herself, but she held him anyway, because if she let go, she feared she would lose herself completely.

 

Andy's movements grew unsteady, his body trembling as though each thrust burned him from the inside. He kissed her again and again, each kiss a plea for forgiveness he knew would never come.

 

"Mhng-! Annie,," he gasped, voice raw, "I can't- please, don't hate me- please, please,,!"

 

He's getting closer as he picked up the pace. 

 

He drove deeper, grinding against her poor nub one last time, forcing her body into shudders she could no longer name. His arms tightened around her, pressing her against his chest. 

 

Ann's mind floated far above, her gaze blank, her lips parted in a faint whimper. She had no strength left to beg, no voice left to protest. Overstimulated, and still, when his weight bore down on her, she clung to him. Not from desire, but from the fragile instinct that holding him was safer than letting go.

 

Andy buried his face against her shoulder, he tried sinking his lips gently into her fabric as he shuddered violently inside her. Warm thick silky cotton filled her, marking her from the inside as thoroughly as his mouth had marked her outside.

 

"I love you so much," he whispered into her neck, his voice shaking. "I love you, Ann. I swear it. It's love... it has to be..."

 

Ann closed her eyes. She didn't answer. Her body felt so sore beneath him. Her arms loosened, she had nothing else left, no strength to fight, no place to run, only the fragile comfort of his weight holding her together when she feared she might fall apart.

 

It ended in a long ragged load groan, broken only by her brother's uneven breaths as he slumped against her. Andy collapsed against her, his weight pinned her down into the moss, his chest heaving, his face buried in the crook of her neck.

 

Ann lay beneath him like a doll discarded, her body trembling lightly from the pain and violation, her cotton insides sore, she had tried weakly to hide her face into her palms, to smother her sobs that are about to creep in. 

 

Her sobs finally come out again, soft but unending, muffled against her palms as though she feared the trees themselves would hear anymore.

 

But no matter how tightly she pressed her hands against her mouth, the little broken sounds still escaped, tiny, strangled cries that made the leaves above seem to shiver.

 

When Andy finally withdrew from her, she shuddered at the sudden emptiness, a deep ache her brother left behind, at the warmth that felt like it leaked down her thighs, foreign and shameful. She feels so full, of his cotton, so full that she could even feel them overflowing a bit from her slit. 

 

She dared not look. She dared not think of what had been or how much had been forced inside her.

 

For a moment, he only looked at her, the wet shine of her button eyes, the broken little sound of her cries. And then he gathered her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her as they lay tangled in against the grass. 

 

The forest seemed to hold its breath with them, the dark trees looming like silent witnesses.

 

Trembling and hollow, aching from what he'd done, she leaned back into his arms, not out of love, not forgiveness, but out of a desperate need for comfort, even if it came from the one who had used and broken her. For something to hold onto in the wreckage he had made of her.

 

Her tears spilled freely, she tried to hide her face again, burying it in her hands. Her muffled cries broke into little hiccups, choked and uneven.

 

"Don't cry, Annie..." he whispered into her hair, pressing a kiss to the yarn strands. 

 

I'm sorry I hurt you, I know I did...

 

Andy only held her tighter. "It's all right now, it's over..." he murmured sweetly. He almost believed he had given her a gift, not a wound. His hands smoothed down her trembling arms, attempting comfort where comfort could not reach.

 

The paper flower lay beside them, forgotten when Ann tried so hard to hide her cries, nearby where their discarded clothes scattered, ruined. 

 

Flattened by their bodies, its fragile folds bent, but not torn. Still whole, she didn't realized she had let go of it when her brother was done fucking her to the brim. Ann's gaze fell on it through blurred tears. 

 

A sob tore from her throat, raw and hoarse. Andy hushed her quickly, rocking her like a child, pressing kiss after kiss along her damp cheeks. "Don't think about it, Annie... don't. Just think about me. About us." 

 

Her chest tightening with unbearable sorrow. That simple, innocent gift, once a token of care, of childish joy. The paper flower haunted her, a reminder of the brother she had loved, and the boy who had broken her.

 

The flower was the last proof of something pure, something before.

 

Her hands shook as she tried to cover her face again, but Andy caught them, weaving his ragged hands with hers. He pressed her knuckles to his lips, his kisses reverent, insistent. 

 

"I want to see you..."

 

His presence was both a cage and shelter. She wanted to hate him, but still, she sank into his embrace, letting her brother's warmth envelop her as she wept silently into the night.

 

Ann only wept silently, torn between hating him and needing him, her small stitched body trembling in the cocoon of his arms, until they turned into hiccups. 

 

She closed her eyes, utterly exhausted. 

 

Above them, the trees whispered in the wind, their branches bending low as though the forest itself mourned with her.

 

Her brother, oblivious or unwilling, only held tighter, murmuring into her hair. 

 

I love you, Annie. I'll never let you go.

 

The woods lay silent, hushed beneath a sky still heavy with night. The stars glimmered faintly overhead, but the forest floor was wrapped in shadow. It was the hour before dawn, when the world feels suspended between sleep and waking.

 

Andy lay tangled with Ann. His body was still sore from the storm he had forced on them both, but his chest heavier than his ragged limbs. Andy's arms stayed firm around her. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, whispering apologies between each kiss.

 

".. I couldn't stop myself. I wanted you so much..."

 

Ann stirred faintly against him. Her eyes fluttered open at that, dull and wet, glinting ever so slightly in the faint light of the moon. She didn't pull away. She didn't speak. She only blinked slowly. 

 

Andy's chest ached at the sight of her silence. Carefully, he shifted her, laying her gently on her back onto the moss. He hovered he once more. 

 

He shouldn't be doing any more of this, more of what he has already done, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel like he needs to. 

 

Andy kissed her forehead gently, guilt thick in his throat. "I'm sorry, Ann," he whispered, brushing a strand of her yarn hair back. "I didn't mean to hurt you so badly... I just..."

 

Her lips parted, but no words came. She gazed past him, unfocused. 

 

He swallowed hard, forcing his hands to move with care. He smoothed her hair back, kissed the top of her head. His fingers trembled as they brushed the edges of her seams, checking them, soothing them, desperate to undo damage that could not be undone.

 

Then Andy's hand drifted lower, to the warm sensitive spot between her legs, where her flushed slit throbbed faintly after all he had done to it. The moment his fingers brushed there, Ann gasped, her body jolting in a tremor she couldn't control.

 

He froze, guilt burning him. "I'm sorry," he whispered quickly. "I know you're still sore... I know I really hurt you." 

 

But he didn't pull away. Instead, he stroked her outer folds and velvety lips with the gentlest caress he could manage, circling carefully, trying to soothe the ache he had forced on her.

 

Ann whimpered, her thighs twitching weakly. Her mind screamed at her to turn away, to beg him not to touch her there again, but the touch weren't like before. They didn't drag her toward unbearable peaks. 

 

They only dulled the ache, easing the throb. Against her will, her body slackened beneath him, seams loosening under the faint relief.

 

Andy kissed her cheek again, his own tears dampening her linen skin. "That's it, Annie, I'll make the hurt go away. Just let me love you... please..."

 

Her lips trembled, but she didn't answer. She lay still, letting him soothe what he had broken, because she didn't know what else to do.

 

Her seams shivered every so often under the touch. Not with want, but with the ache of overstimulation, the exhaustion that made her limbs heavy. She closed her eyes again, letting him tend to her because she had no strength left to stop him.

 

Searching for warmth in the touch of the one who had broken her.

 

Andy mistook the gesture for forgiveness. His chest ached with relief, tears burning his eyes as he kissed her damp cheek again and again. "Thank you," he whispered, voice cracking. "Thank you for letting me love you. I'll make it better for ya, Annie..." 

 

I promise.

 

The forest remained hushed, holding its breath as her brother continued to whisper his apologies, his kisses falling tenderly on everywhere he allowed himself to, his trembling hand tending to her sister's cunt he had overworked.

 

Ann, awake but silent, endured it all, the guilt in his touch, the weight of his arms, the fragile warmth that kept her from unraveling completely.

 

---

 

Her brother's breath evened out quickly after his last whispered words and kisses, letting himself collapse gently beside her. 

 

His arms were a cage, warm and protective, though Ann couldn't decide if they steadied her or trapped her further. The forest around them had gone still, save for the distant drip of dew falling from leaves, the occasional creak of branches.

 

Andy drifted into a nap at last, his breath steady against her hair, his arms wound tight around her as though afraid she would slip away. Ann lay still in his embrace, her button eyes half-lidded, staring into the hush of the Deep Deep Woods. She hadn't rested, not truly. Her shudders had quieted, but inside she felt frayed, pulled in two directions.

 

Ann closed her eyes again, and tried to imagine herself somewhere else, just for a moment... back in Marcella's arms, the nursery, back in the safety of warmth of the morning sun. 

 

She didn't sleep. Her button eyes fluttered half-shut, but inside she was alert, listening to the weight of his breath, the faint rustle of the moss beneath them. Time dragged like a thread stretched taut.

 

At last, Andy stirred. His arms slackened and he blinked awake, groggy but immediately aware of her beside him. For a long moment, he didn't move, his lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. 

 

Ann felt her brother awake and turned her head slightly away, her yarn hair tumbling over her face. She couldn't meet his eyes. Not yet. His hold loosened, for a long moment he just looked at her, guilt flickering in his expression. He didn't speak. Neither did she.

 

Slowly, Andy pushed himself upright. The silence clung to them as he stood up, brushing moss from his shirt, then turned back to her. 

 

He reached his hand down, offering his hand. Ann hesitated before taking it. Her body felt heavy, seams and stitches and her cotton insides still quite sore, but she pushed herself upright. She wavered, her legs unsteady as Andy caught her, steadying her with careful hands.

 

Her seams ached, her legs weak from the long night, so his grip was firm, careful, steadying her gently to her feet. Her body swayed, almost buckling under its own weight. Andy caught her quickly, steadying her against his chest.

 

"Easy, Annie..." he murmured, so softly it might have been mistaken for the wind.

 

Ann pressed her lips together, cheeks warming under her stitches. She hated how safe it felt for that moment, how badly she wanted to stay in his arms even while remembering all the reasons she shouldn't. 

 

She pushed lightly against him, and he let her go without protest.

 

Their clothes were scattered nearby. Andy bent to pick them up, dusting bits of grass and moss from Ann's apron and bloomers before holding it out for her. She took it in silence, lowering her gaze, fumbling with the fabric as though her hands had forgotten how to work.

 

Wordlessly, they redressed. 

 

Ann struggled with her apron, her trembling hands fumbling with the button behind her. She tried to button her apron from behind, but her fingers trembled too much. The button slipped against her floppy soft ragged hands, refusing to catch. Frustration welled up in her throat, but before she could push the fabric away, her brother's hand closed gently over hers.

 

"L.. Let me," he whispered.

 

Andy reached to help, his hand quick and gentle, fastening the button. She lowered her gaze, cheeks faintly soft red as she blushed, letting him help without protest.

 

She didn't look behind, but she didn't pull away either. He did so quietly, his fingers deft, slipping the button through its hole before he stepped back, his hands falling to his sides.

 

The silence between them felt heavier than words.

 

They finished dressing, each motion deliberate, subdued. Andy fixed his floppy black bow, picking up the paper flower from the ground and placed it back inside his trousers. Ann smoothed her dress and apron together, dusting off the last bits of moss and grass and dirt. Neither spoke. Neither smiled.

 

When at last they set foot back on the path, The forest seemed thicker now, branches curling overhead, shadows stretching long. 

 

The trees arched high overhead, branches curling together like fingers weaving a net. The ground was damp, their shoes sinking faintly into moss and soil. Every crunch of a twig sounded loud in the quiet, a reminder of how far they still had to go.

 

Their footsteps crunched softly on the moss and leaves, side by side, close but not touching. Ann hugged her arms around herself, her silence heavy, her brother glanced at her from time to time, but kept his words swallowed down, his lips pressed tight.

 

She walked with her arms remained folded close around herself, her yarn hair shadowing her face. She kept her eyes on the path, unwilling to look at Andy, though she could feel the weight of his presence beside her. 

 

He kept a small distance, as though afraid of crowding her again, though every few steps his hand twitched, as though he longed to reach for hers and didn't dare.

 

The quiet between them was not peace. It was a fragile truce, stitched together with shame, comfort, and much more neither could name.

 

After what felt like an hour, the trees thinned. A pale clearing opened before them, bathed in the faint, silvery blue glow of a fading moon. 

 

And there, in the center of the clearing, was a figure so out of place it made Ann blink.

 

They walked deeper as the trees thinned continued to an opening into a small clearing. 

 

There, kneeling awkwardly with his long legs folded beneath him, was a camel... with wrinkled knees. His eyes drooped with sorrow. 

 

A blue camel with the wrinkled knees knelt low to the ground. His whole frame sagged, each wrinkle in his fabric deep and heavy, as though he bore the weight of the entire world on his stitched back.

 

Andy stopped short, blinking. Ann's steps faltered, and she almost stumbled before catching herself. Both of them stared. For the first time since the night's unraveling, their attention shifted outward, something outside of themselves filled their gaze. 

 

The camel lifted his weary head, his voice a low, sad rumble.

 

---

 

The nursery was alive with noise again. Bright, tumbling chatter filled the air as though the Deep Deep Woods had been nothing but a bad dream. 

 

Babette had been brought back home along with the Captain Contagious, fluttering her lashes and sighing as she recounted her time when she overthrew the captain and managed to take over the ship. 

 

She may not have come back to Paris, but she was glad she's safe and, well, home. 

 

The Camel lumbered shyly into the center of the room, his patchy sides quivering as the toys welcomed him in. Laughter bubbled, rhymes started up as if the world had only known joy.

 

Ann stood among them, her apron smoothed but still flowy, her polka-dotted dress freshly straightened, her ragged mitted hands folded primly in front of her. 

 

She smiled when Babette hugged her back as the French porcelain doll was praised for her courageousness. 

 

She nodded when the dolls and toys cheered for the Camel's new home. She even sang softly when the chorus swelled. To anyone looking, Raggedy Ann was herself again. Gentle, dependable, the heart of the nursery.

 

But she felt it in every seam. A heaviness that no thread could mend.

 

Every laugh she gave caught against the memory of grass and dirt beneath her back, of shadows pressing close, of tears she'd begged not to shed. Her brother's arms had held her through it, and not just in comfort. 

 

Even now, as she swayed in the song, she could feel him across the circle of toys. 

 

She dared a glance at him. Andy smiling at the other toys with that familiar happy-go-lucky charm. To the others, he was the same old Andy, cheerful, feisty, bright, the one who always joined in. But his button eyes, when they found hers, gleamed with something else. 

 

The Camel with the Wrinkled Knees shuffled as he tumbled awkwardly trying to steady himself with walking on his wrinkled knees, earning cheers of encouragement.

 

Babette tossed her golden curls and spun about. No one noticed how Ann's hands trembled when she clasped them. No one knew the way her throat constricted, or how desperately she tried to match their joy.

 

Only her brother knew.

 

The old nursery had never looked brighter, the toys were all dancing in a circle, their laughter bouncing off the walls. To anyone watching, it was a celebration, spun on in ordinary life, though Ann's insides burned with the memory that ordinary was gone.

 

Andy's smile remained fixed in place, as easy as breathing. None of them could see the difference in him, not a single one. He really is just the same Raggedy Andy as before, Marcella's jaunty, cheerful toy. But he wasn't.

 

He'd changed.

 

His eyes found Ann in the swirl of the dance. She stood among them, apron straight, hair ribbons neat, her voice carrying softly in the song. 

 

Perfect. So perfect. 

 

But he knew better than any of them. He'd felt her tremble beneath his hands, heard her cry his name in the woods. No matter how carefully she tucked or smoothed her dress, she couldn't hide it from him. Not after what had passed between them. Not after she'd taken him inside her and wept in his arms.

 

She was his

 

No one here knew. No one saw. They all believed in the same old nursery story, the one where Ann was the sweet big sister and he was her playful little brother. They clapped and sang and spun around him, blind.

 

Only he and Raggedy Ann knew. As long as they kept smiling, no one ever would.

 

Notes:

There's no need to question much about the ragdoll anatomy here. Based on the books, they live in a world where fairies exists; so pretty much many unexplainable magical stuff happens... such as their intimate parts taking form for intimacy, whether it's consensual or not <:)