#paxton and amal series

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I’m fairly certain you’ve suggested blogs before but I can’t find any asks you’ve answered about it. So, do you have any whump blogs, particularly bbu, that you’d suggest people follow?

@wildfaewhump has a BBU story with a fun angle - a family locates and recovers their missing son, who has become a Box Boy with no memory of his former life. The family is not exactly the kind of supportive caretakers you might hope for in a situation like that, and the Box Boy has to balance their expectations of someone he isn't, but maybe used to be, with what he knows.

@carnagecardinal has some great pieces up that take place in the BBU! The caretaker who maybe enjoys a frightened rescued Box Boy's fear just a little too much is a favorite.

@redwingedwhump has two stories that take place in the BBU! One involves a recent rescue in a house where he may or may not be dangerous to other inhabitants, another about a Box Boy whose relationships with his owner - and with the one he is charged with protecting - are very different, and incredibly complex.

@orchidscript has a few different BBU works! My personal favorite of course is her Henry, but also Emmett is a newer storyline that is rapidly stealing my heart. One story is primarily about recovery after a young Box Boy runs away and finds himself taken in by a small young family and shown a different way to live... another is about a Box Boy meant to simply be a household helper forced into a new role he loathes and his attempts to escape.

@boxboysandotherwhump has Amal and Paxton who own my entire fucking heart forever. Well-meaning friends purchase a second-hand Box Boy to help out someone who really wants nothing to do with the system. The two learn to live with one another and the pining and yearning commences. Also Alice! Oh my gosh Alice. Alice, my beloved.

@winedark-whump wrote a really, really, really excellent beginning to a series (and an amazing follow-up!) about a woman whose parents buy her a Romantic Box Boy despite her being, um, very much gay - and her complicated bitter feelings about this and attempts to get rid of him without making things somehow worse. Oh my gosh. The protagonist of these stories is just. I haven't really seen this angle done like this before and it's so fucking good.

@robins-whump has some shorter snippets set in the Box Boy universe that are really good! But also you should be following @robins-whump anyway forever

@thewhumperinwhite's Lost Dog, No Reward is really, really good! Go check it out

@silvercrystalwhump has Flynn and Kai, and honestly I adore Kai already and the series is very new, so you'll be getting in on the ground floor there!

@deluxewhump's Z2 is a fucking classic, absolutely check that story out. It's so interesting to read back from the beginning and watch the development of Zee, Cam, and Alex through time!

@whumpfigure’s Bast! Oh, Bast is a love and a sweetheart. His story is sweet and heartbreaking. I still think about his master figuring out he had learned to sign and breaking his fingers to punish him for ‘speaking’ that way. Like... all the time. Definitely a must-read. 

I am definitely forgetting all kinds of people because my brain is just sparking nonsense today, so comment or reblog and let Anon know if you write a BBU storyline!

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Just thought I should let you know that the Paxton & Amal Masterlist is incomplete. I didn't realize it went past Chapter 8 til I looked through the actual tag the next day.

I freaking love the series. It's so cute!

I'm so happy you love them :3 thank you telling me that <3

I know the masterlist is incomplete. I want to make some changes to the story, get a bit more of a storyline in there, but I have very little energy for writing and tidying up that list >__< I'm sorry.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

So guys I started to re-draw the first chapter of Paxton and Amal. I actually wanted to re-draw and continue the entire story but realized that my shoulder would not corporate. The work load is just to much for my body atm. But I wanted to share with you what I managed to do draw.

I hope you enjoy this re-vamped nearly finished first chapter 💕✨ with fancy cover page ✨

Also please read like a manga aka from right to left :3

Taglist: @haro-whumps @albino-whumpee @orchidscript @morelikepainsley @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @cupcakes-and-pain @ashintheairlikesnow @sky-or-something-idfk

​

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Lil Paxton during his last weeks with master.

This beating escalated so badly he had one of his workers drive Paxton to a pet clinic.

“That useless runt is lucky he was a gift from my son. Even put padding in his cage.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Paxton and Amal pet weekend <3

Finally, after more than a week this is finished. Some sexy and unedited smut fluff? Kinky stuff? This is for the sweet Paxton and Amal fans that reached out to me and everyone else loving these two <3

This takes place in the future when they are already a couple for several years.

@haro-whumps @finder-of-rings @orchidscript @ashintheairlikesnow @vickytokio @thefancydoughnut @thingsthatgowhumpinthenight @morelikepainsley @wolfeyedwitch

CW: smut, consensual kink, pet play, Paxton struggling with freedom after a really stressful day at work so some very small fuckery thoughts creep in here and there (but mostly it's just fluff, I promise)

Groaning, Paxton kicked the apartment door open, one hand clutched around the fancy new briefcase Amal got him for christmas a few weeks prior while the other still struggled to pull his keys out the keyhole. What kinda fancy apartment was this, if not even the door worked properly?

He kicked his shoes off.

The flares of frustrated anger that had creeped into his head ever more frequently over time scared him less and less, after ten years of freedom, but still they left him wary. Somewhere deep down he still knew those feelings to be forbidden. Especially on days like this, when the customers at work had been hell and he’d ended up hiding out in his small office, sweat sticky palms pressed over his racing heart to let Meryem explain to the furious Mr. Barkley why he couldn’t design and build an entire custom wardrobe until next week, no they were terribly sorry but just getting the wood order ready would take them three weeks.

On days like this Paxton wished he could quit and just curl up under Amal’s desk where he belonged, dozing through lazy afternoons while Amal’s cool fingers carded through his hair.

But today he would get as close to this as he could. Today and tomorrow, because after rearranging and poking around in their schedules they finally had carved out enough time for another pet weekend.

Paxton sped up, nearly bolting into the giant living room and kitchen area.

It smelled of garlic and salmon and sweet potatoes. Amal emerged from behind the counter, where he had undoubtedly crouched and fussed with the oven. The warm lights of many dimmed down lamps reflected off the fire extinguisher next to him and shone in his lavender hair. He grinned.

“Hey there, dinner is nearly rea-”

Paxton crossed the distance between them before Amal could finish the sentence, discarding his briefcase and blazer somewhere on the floor to bury his face into Amal's shoulder with another croaky groan.

“Work that bad, hm?” Amal asked, hands coming up to rub gentle circles into Paxton’s shoulders, who nodded in response, folding himself small against Amal. Gentle hands found their way into his hair and pulled until the promise of pain sparked over Paxtons scalp. Mewling, he shivered even closer, feeling the tension slowly fall from his shoulders. His cheeks burned.

“Poor baby.” Amal murmured into his ear and a huff of warm breath tickled Paxton's skin. It smelled of caramel coffee. “But is that anyway to greet me? Today?”

Tingling all over Paxton shook his head, hands clutching onto Amal desperate for stability, for the others' solidity.

“No.” he croaked out.

Amal’s hands had stopped pulling Paxton’s hair and gone to give him soft scritches instead.

“Yeah, no. Wanna do it right?”

Paxton heard the hidden way out. The disguised, are you still up for this? Or do you want to stop? Just the idea had him fray at the seams. His fingers dug even harder into Amal’s yellow sweater, threatening to tear fabric.

“Yes.” The words fell from trembling lips like a desperate prayer. “Y- yes I want to, to do it right. Please?”

For some unbearably long seconds, in which Paxton’s heart leapt into his throat and made it hard to breath, Amal just stood there, holding him close. Fingers never ceasing to massage his head.

Finally, he breathed: “Alright. Then kneel.”

That whispered command was all it took for Paxton to crash to his knees like a puppet with cut strings. His racing heart slowed down, pumping warmth through his body that turned to heat between his legs.

“Good boy.”

Paxton squirmed in place, lips curling into a shy smile. God how he’d needed this. It’s been way too long.

Cupping Paxtons cheek with a smile, Amal bent down and placed a gentle kiss onto his forehead. Paxton's eyes fluttered close. His face was tilted up and soft lips met his. A tender press against tingling skin. A quiet moan slipped out into the warm air between them.

Fondness danced over Amal’s face, warm as a candle flame. Paxton blinked up at him, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinted cheeks.

Amal’s thumb found Paxton’s lips. Blood rushed through Paxton’s ears as it pushed inside. He began to suck, making content, quiet noises around the intrusion in his mouth. Vanilla and burned sugar coated his tongue and he smiled.

Amal had tried to prepare creme brulee for him. Despite last time, where they were luckily neither of them got burned. Too bad.

He could still feel the patch of silvery smooth skin on Amal’s thumb as it pressed down onto his tongue. His hips twitched, searching for something to grind his growing erection into.

Amal chuckled, “Someone’s impatient,” and pulled his thumb from Paxton’s mouth with a wet plop. A frustrated whine escaped him at the loss of touch, leaving his lips burning with the longing for more.

“Go, take a shower.” Amal’s eyes dropped to the obvious outline of Paxtons erection, straining through his dark dress pants. “A cold shower. And don’t you dare touch yourself.”

“Y- yes, sir.”

Paxton stodd on shaky legs, stumbling down the tiny hall towards the bath opposite of their bedroom, only to notice half way there that he’d forgotten his suitcase and blaser on the floor. He ducked back into the living area and gathered them up with a shy smile. His hands trembled but Amal only smiled over his shoulder, before busying himself with the completion of their dinner.

----

Paxton padded down the hall and into the living area buttnaked. Icy water droplets sprung free from his wild dark hair to tickle down his spine and he shivered, scarred fingers clutching around the soft leather collar he brought from their bedroom. His freezing toes curled into the soft strands of the sand colored carpet, unsure if to kneel and wait or tell Amal, absorbed in decorating their dinner plates, that he already finished the shower.

Just when he wanted to sink to the fluffy floor, did Amal turn around.

Dark eyes roamed over his body and he squirmed, face burning as a grin spread over Amal’s face. They had seen each other naked plenty of times, why was he staring like that? Like there was still something novel or special about his body, as if there was more to him than scars intersecting sickly pale skin.

“Y-you di- di- didn’t tell me to get drs-dre- dressed.” Paxton blurted out at last, eyes dropping to his feet, digging into the soft carpet strands. They tickled. Amal came over to him with a rustle of clothes. Paxton began to gnaw at his bottom lip, unsure what to say. He hated talking when nervousness shook the vowels of his words all out of order. His stammer hasn’t been this prominent in a long time.

Impossibly soft fingers traced from his collarbone over his chest, down to his ribs where they lingered near a scar that wrapped from his back around his torso, only to glide back up again in the same maddeningly gentle manner. Up and down, up and down, until Paxton’s breath grew ever more shallow. Every inhale more high pitched gasp than real breath. Amal flicked his nipple and Paxton whined, leaning closer to his master.

The gentle fingers turned cruel in a heartbeat and pinched his hardened nipple. Sharp short nails dug into tender flesh. A moan ripped from Paxton’s throat so loud his face grew even hotter, blush spreading from the tips of his ears down over his chest.

Amal hummed, pleased, and pulled. A hot flash of pain spraked through his chest. Eyebrows furrowed, Paxton leaned towards Amal to elevate some of the pain.

“So it’s my fault you're this desperate? Look at you, all hot and bothered. Such a slutty pet.”

“N-no. I’m not-”

Another sharp tug cut him off. Paxton’s toes dug into the carpet and he groaned, hips twitching into empty air. If Amal would just step a little bit closer he could-

Paxton shook his head, trying to ban the thought of humping his master leg like an undignified mutt. Trembling all over, part of him wished Amal would make him at some point during their weekend.

“God, you’re adorable when you get all flustered for me.” The words fell from Amal lips, tender as flower petals and he let go of Paxton’s nipple. His small hands wound around Paxton’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss that was all hunger, all hard press of lips and harsh breaths. Paxton was hard and shivery, barely aware of anything that wasn’t his master mouth. His nimble fingers digging into his scalp.

The hand not holding his collar reached for Amal’s butt, but Amal swatted it away before Paxton could touch. The spell between them broke and Paxton whined as Amal stepped away.

“First things first,” Amal grinned. “Dinner before playtime.”

No. He didn’t want to wait a second longer.

Ducking his chin Paxton played the only ace he still had up his sleeve, knowing full well Amal was nearly never able to refuse him when he folded himself small and blinked up at him through dark lashes. Biting his lip Paxton mumbled: “Please, Sir?”

“Hey now.” Amal chidded. But his voice came out airy and his mouth twitched, unable to hold a stern expression. “Stop playing unfair.”

Satisfaction prickled up Paxtons spine from throwing Amal out of the loop for once.

Amal reached for Paxton’s right hand, still holding the collar. Pressing kisses to scarred knuckles Amal took it from him. He held it up with both hands and Paxton leaned into it, humming happily as the smooth leather pressed against his throat. Amal buckled it on.

Arms encircled Paxton and they just stood there, embracing one another until Paxton’s chilly skin finally warmed up completely, when Amal finally whispered.

“C’mon now. Dinner is getting cold.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Paxton and Amal: University trip!

I recieved so many sweet asks and dm‘s about Paxton and Amal, my sweet disaster beans, and the love you guys have for them inspired me to write something for them :3

Thank you all so much and I hope you‘ll enjoy this :3

Also @ashintheairlikesnow  thank you for letting me smuggle our all beloved himbo into this chapter :3

Taglist @haro-whumps  @albino-whumpee  @orchidscript  @morelikepainsley  @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight       @cupcakes-and-pain @ashintheairlikesnow     @sky-or-something-idfk​

CW: past non-con mention (very brief),

The University building bustled with life. Countless students strolled about, a boy with a green beany hasted up a flight of stairs, brown messenger bag clutched under his arm. A group of laughing girls nearly bumped into them on their way to the cafeteria and Paxton inched closer to Amal, scarred fingers gripping the hem of his fluffy sunflower sweater.

A lock of purple hair fell into Amal‘s eye as he leaned closer to him and whispered. „Do you need to go somewhere quiet?“

Paxton shook his head, felt the grounding press of his collar snug around his neck, hidden underneath the gray turtleneck. „No.“ Letting go of Amal‘s clothes and trying to sound braver than he felt Paxton gave him a quick smile. A hint of teeth behind barely parted lips. „I, I want to see more of the world. Just, uhm, don‘t leave me alone. Please?“

Amal‘s hand found his and slender fingers, still chilly from the April breeze, wrapped around his own, squeezing softy. „Never.“

Paxton squeezed back. Neither of them let go.

„Ready for the breakfast fight? It‘s gonna be pretty full but the salmon bagels here are godly, I promise. You can have as many as you want.“

The smile on Amal‘s lips grew a bit bashful, red tinted his cheeks as he patted his pant pocket. „Well, I‘ve got enough for three at least. Oh and tea, of course. Lecture‘s not bearable without tea.“

Student chatter drowned through the door before they even reached it and Paxton‘s heart leaped up into his throat as they entered the overcrowded room. Well, it was more of a hall really. A really big hall, filled to the brim with people, lounging on the countless benches with laptops and notepads, trays with food and steaming cups on the tables in front of them. Groups laughed and people screamed over the noise, throwing wallets and juice boxes to each other. A long line of students wound its way past the food counter and through the register checkpoint. Some picking drinks or puddings out of a freezer.

„Lucky us, it‘s emptier than I thought.“

Paxton‘s head whipped to Amal who failed to hold back a laugh at his mortified expression, snorting through his nose. „You‘ve seen nothing. Wait till we go to the canteen to pick up lunch.“ Biting his lip Amal relented, „Not today, though. Don‘t worry. We‘ll start small. Baby steps, okay?“

Paxton‘s expression crumbled, scars stretching as his brows drew down. It still felt strange not to try and monitor his expressions, to just openly show even the most shameful of emotions; like dissatisfaction with his mas- with Amal‘s decisions. Being such on openly ill behaved pet send a shiver down his spine and Paxton had to admit that it was not only fear he felt.

True dread, the panic he had thought an inseparable part of himself had slowly but surely seeped from his bones, ever since the colossal mistake he‘d made back in January. When he had kissed Amal against his will, terrified him even, only to collapse into a snot smeared crying mess at his feet. The thought that he could scare a master had been sickening and wondrous all the same. The knowledge that he nearly did to Amal what some handlers had did to him- made him want to throw up. Guilt clawed at his throat bitter as bile, even now, even after they talked it out, during hours full of tea and reassuring sweetness.

Paxton had been sure Amal would kick him out, resell him, refurbish him, break his hands and burn his mouth and by god he knew he would have deserved every last bit of suffering for this, no pain penance enough, but nothing had happened. He had been forgiven, just like that and if Amal could forgive this than there wasn‘t anything he had to fear.

Griping Amal‘s hand tighter he followed him into the crowed. „As long as you‘re with me.“

I can do anything.

--

The bagel was warm even through the crinkling paper wrapping and Paxton chuckled as Amal flopped down on the empty staircase, unwrapping his breakfast with sparkling eyes. He sank down next to him, spine straight and legs tugged close.

The only table, cramped in a corner of the nearly deserted third floor, was already occupied by a grumpy looking blonde giant brooding over a book and some notes, expression growing more desperate by the minute while he punched numbers into his calculator.

Gratefulness prickled in Paxton‘s heart that Amal hadn‘t walked over to the guy. Anger and muscles were always bad news.

„Finally. Bagel my beloved.“ Amal munched and gave Paxton and expectant nod. Mouth still full. „Try. Tell me wha‘ you thin‘.“

The bread gave under the press of Paxton‘s fingers, soft but not saggy, a flash of pink salmon and a bit crisp green salad peaked out from it and the smell of garlic sauce tickled his nose. He swallowed, it really did look delicious, and sank his teeth into the bagel.

His eyes fluttered shut as a flash a flavor sparkled on his tongue.

„I knew you‘d love it.“

Nodding, Paxton swallowed the food down, head bowed low in a show of gratitude. „It tastes fantastic. Thank you.“

He let the ‘Sir‘ die on his tongue. No more Sirs, he was only Amal now. A friend.

We are friends.

Heads and hearts overflowing with happiness and bagel-crumbs neither of them noticed the pair of angry blue eyes boring into Amal‘s back as they waited for the financial management class to start.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Paxton and Amal 13

CW: lack of sleep and emotional distress leading up to very bad decisions, non-con kissing, (but nothing beyond that)

direct continuation to chapter 11 and 12

(whole chapter under the cut read from right to left)

also as a thanks for all of your sweet support and patience I drew a special colored paged <3

Taglist: (please let me know if I forgot anyone) @haro-whumps  @albino-whumpee  @orchidscript  @morelikepainsley  @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight       @cupcakes-and-pain @ashintheairlikesnow     @sky-or-something-idfk​

[boxboysandotherwhump]

„Pax?“ A warm hand squeezed Paxton’s freezing shoulder. “Hey Pax. Why are you in my- Have you been crying?”

Tear crusted eyes slowly blinked open.

taglist: (please let me know if I forgot anyone)

@haro-whumps  @albino-whumpee  @orchidscript  @morelikepainsley  @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​       @cupcakes-and-pain​ @ashintheairlikesnow​

oki guys last teaser I promise. The next Paxton and Chapter will get up in a few days and there will be a full colored page as a thank you for all your patience and support <3

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Paxton being cute.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Paxton and Amal 13 teaser

Since my brain still absolutely refuses to let me write, I just decided to do the next Paxton and Amal chapter in comic form again :D so here a little spoiler for the pax and Amal crew 💕 thank you all for being so patient with me.

this takes place right after this chapter when Amal comes home late at night and finds Paxton crying and curled up on his bed.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Masterlist Paxton & Amal

Paxtons Papers

Training

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 written version

CHapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Why are you still awake?

Albino-whumpees amazing Paxton drawing

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Guys guys look to what a beautiful thing I woke up to today 😍😍💕

@albino-whumpee thank you so so so so much 💕💕 it's so beautiful 💕 and all the details like paxton watching YouTube videos and amals sweatshirt being yellow 😍 also he would totally be a little pancake on paxtons back and just nap there. Also how paxtons hair has grown out a little and the scars on his hands begin to fade? Beautiful! !!💖💖💖 and how he doesn't need his collar anymore to feel safe?! Aaaaahhh 💕💕 I love everything about this 💖💖💕💕

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Humane and necessary disciplinary measures

CW: humiliation, pet whump, human pet, punishment, canning, conditioning, negative self-talk, creepy whumper,

He couldn’t take it anymore.

His hands hurt where the thick leather cuffs cut in.

The tile floor gaps dug sharp into his knees, making him squirm against the table his torso had been strapped to.

Cold crept from the metal plate right through the thin white shirt he was put into on his first day here, making him shudder.

Everything else here, was white too.

The walls

The floors

The headache inducing light flooding every corner of this godforsaken facility.

Just white, white, white, white.

The only other color were the bruises that bloomed across his skin, when they hit him hard enough.

What they always did.

Coloring countless body’s in violent greens and blues.

The boy liked his bruises the best when they were purple and hoped his hands wouldn’t turn out this ugly shade of yellowish green as he felt the baton crash down again.

He hated that color.

Even more than white.

Hated it as much as he hated the bulky man that had dragged him out of the cooking class and into this training room.

“I didn’t … didn’t spill…. The fucking…. Milk.”

The boy’s breaths came ragged now, fogging the table with every shuddering exhale.

“Watch your mouth ‘626.”

The Baton came down again. A low whine escaped the boy, whose hands began to twitch uselessly in their restrains.

Please just let it stop already!

“And don’t you dare lie to me again.”

The Handler’s voice cut sharp like a pocket knife, twisting were the rest of the boys pride was tucked away. Hidden so deep within, he’d nearly forgotten it had ever been there.

I didn’t lie!

The sudden urge to scream clawed its way up his throat, bitten back behind teeth. Hard enough to make his jaw ache.

Stupid Handler Schneider hadn’t even been there as his teacher had shoved him so hard into the table the measuring cup had toppled over from the impact.

He didn’t spill the fucking milk, and he didn’t fucking lie!

He had never fucking lied once in his condemned worthless life.

He had never fucking sworn before, either, but fuck did it feel good!

“Didn’t… didn’t, fucking lie.”

His head crashed into the table. Nauseating pain throbbing through his skull in burning waves.

Fuck

Shit

It huuuuuurt!

Maybe the Handler had hit his head to hard but 626 felt a hysteric little giggle bubble up in his throat.

Uuuups.

Was Handler Schneider pissed off?!

Unsure what had possessed his trainee today, the Handler watched the kneeling boy quivering at his feet.

Greedily gulping some air into arching lungs, 626 thought he saw something like irritation show on the man’s narrow face, who’d began to rub at his temples.

“What the hell’s up with you today 626? You’ve never been this bad before.”

Bad, huh?!

Bloody lips split into an involuntary grin, the boy didn’t even attempt to hide. To engrossed by the taste of cooper and freedom filling his mouth.

He really was bad, wasn’t he?

His Babcia would have locked him in the old stuffy laundry closed, for such cussing by now.

Are you angry at me now Babcia?

Do you hate me?

Just like father did?

“…don’t care… anymore…”, blood spluttered on the table as he forced the words out, but he ignored it just like the throbbing burn behind his eyes and the numbness crawling in his still twitching fingers.

He was done.

So, so done, attempting to be a good boy.

A good son.

It’s impossible to change one's nature after all.

Handler Schneider’s voice road like thunder through the small tile room.

“What did you just say?!”

A rough hand wound its way into dark hair, pulling 626’s head up, to face him. A new wave of pain pulsed through the boy’s skull. Vision blurry, he tried to blink his tears away.

Man don’t cry in this family!

A breathy exhale, faintly smelling like mint and coffee, ghosted over his face.

“I asked. “, hissed Handler Schneider through gritted teeth, tightening his grip. “What the hell, you just said, 626?!”

“No- no matter…. What i… I do. I’ll always be… an abomination. So why, why bother ‘nd try… be good?!”

Heaving the words through burning lungs, he wondered why they hurt so much.

Even though I barely screamed at all today. Funny.

For a split second the man looked taken aback.

He had expected some more backtalk, the rebellious bullshit other trainees pulled in the first months or even some insults thrown his way, but this?

This self-deprecating shit?

This was gold!

Finally, Schneider had something to work with.

626’s facade of shy smiles and polite Yeses had cracked for the first time.

Pressing the boys head back down onto the metal table Schneider’s mouth twitched into an amused smile.

Shuddering 626 watched his blood pool on the table, completely transfixed.

Deep red against polished silver.

Had blood always been this beautiful?

Looking just like the cheery juice his brother had spilled on Babcia’s white tablecloth, which had gotten hip a slap on the fingers.

It had been an especially hot summer back then, making the boy wonder how long exactly it had been since he’d felt this warm.

How many days had passed since he signed the contract?

“You know.”, began his Handlers voice, startling the boy back to attention. He could hear the man move away from him and shudder as he remembered the wall behind him full of canes and paddles and everything else that hurt. So, so badly.

“You don’t have to worry your pree-etty little head about what you were before getting here. You’re Number 313626, now. A pet. And we have our methods to turn you into an obedient one. Isn’t that what you’re here for? To become a good boy?!”

“So…”, the man returned, leaning over the boys tied body as he placed a wooden crop gently next to his face. “How about I help you with that.”

Breath hitching in his throat 626 squirmed against the table, at his Handlers sudden shift in tone.

Sickeningly sweet words accompanied by gentle fingertips brushing over bloodied lips, rubbing red all over his burning mouth.

The boy froze.

Acutely aware of just how helpless he was in this moment.

Body bent over the icy table and feed fixed in place through a spreader bar, pushing his legs open.

“What do good pets say when offered such kindness?”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat, breathing shakily against cold fingertips.

“Thank you.”

Schneider pressed harder on the boy’s busted lip, digging his fingers painfully into his jaw.

“Say it right.”

“Th- Thank you… Sir.”

Schneider’s mouth stretched into a wicked grin.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?!”

The part of 626 itching to rebel, to kick and scream at the world, got suddenly very quiet.

And a sharp voice, sounding suspiciously like his father, urged him on again, to try and be good.

Look, me being strict is for your own good. I know you could be a good son, if you just worked on yourself. Can’t you do that for your Tata?

“It wasn’t Sir.” Even to himself his voice sounded dead. Defeated.

Schneider huffed a laugh, ruffling the boy’s hair in a quick emotionless manner.

“You see this cane, here?”, he slammed it against the table, making 626 flinch violently.

“Na, na. Don’t be scared now. The cane isn’t half as bad as it looks. I’ll show you.”

And with that he slammed the cane over both butt cheeks, setting the soft skin there on fire.

Handler Schneider brought his food down on the spreader bar, securing it in place, and stopping the boy’s pathetic attempt to shuffle closer to the table.

“Not bad at all.”

He leaned over the boy again, one palm sliding down his neck, caressing his back, before two fingers hocked under the waist band of 626 shorts and pulled them down to his knees.

The boy jerked forward, fighting against the restraints around his wrists. Face burning, his voice trembled in fear and humiliation.

“What are you doing?!”

“Teaching you how to behave. You will count every strike and thank me for it. Understood?!”

626 shock violently, hands grabbing his restraints like a lifeline. Anything, anything to ground him.

“Tsk. I asked if you understood.”

The boy felt his Handler’s patience running thin as the cane bashed down with such force he felt it vibrating through his bones.

“Aaaah, un- understood sir. One sir. Thank you, Sir.”

“Pff, looks like you can be good, after all.”

Feeling his heart flutter at the praise, 626 breathed heavily through his nose.

He didn’t want to be praised by this asshole!

But god-damn, he drank it up like a man dying of thirst.

The next hit crashed over his thighs, and he couldn’t stop the tears from falling any longer, as he choked out: “Two. Thank you, Sir.”

“Three. Thank you, Sir.”

“Fo- four. Hnnn. Thank you, Sir.”

Whack!

He cried out again, startling himself with how loud he got.

“Five thank y- Aaaahaa! S-six, ‘hank you, Sir.”

Schneider watched the shivering mess at his feet with a pleased smile.

“You’re doing good 626. And good boys deserve a reward.”

The boy looked up hazily, ignoring his arm spasm as he tried to lift his sweaty head from the cold metal table.

Seeing the cane swing in the corner of his eye, 626 clenched his teeth. Bracing himself for the next blow.

As the cane came down significantly weaker this time, the boy blinked surprised up at his Handler.

“Seven. Thank you, Sir.”

Meaning the words, this time, and making Schneider chuckle.

“That’s my good boy.”

The next blow was even lighter and the one after that getting lighter, still.

This game continued until the blows turned gentle, barely a caress ghosting over ravaged skin.

Sweat and blood and droll, clung to the boy’s cheek, and Schneider watched him flinch in amusement as he dropped the cane with a loud clatter.

Pulling the boys shorts back up he started to free him from the restraints, wiping softly at his cheek.

“You were really good for me today, 626.”

“I was?, dazed disbelieving eyes looked up at his Handler.

Wasn’t all he did today got punished?

“Yes you were. And now tell me, what did the disciplining taught you?”

His thoughts dragged sluggish through his aching head, as he leaned against his Handlers chest.

“Good boys get, get less pain?” he tried, remembering the ever softening blows when he kept the count right.

The smile he earned from his Handler at that, send a pleased shiver up his spine.

“Exactly. Look what a good boy you are, learning so fast. And do you know why good boys get disciplined?”

“Because.”, he hurried to replay, eager to get it right. “Because, discipline is a necessary and humane event ensuring the continued obedience and well-being of a pet. “

A small part of 626 couldn’t help but to believe in those words.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Chapter 8 is finally finished and boi was it a fight. Thank you again for proofreading @haro-whumps <3 and for anyone else who might wonder, the dish Paxton is cooking in this drabble is a traditional polish dish called Zupa Mleczna

Tag list: @albino-whumpee @orchidscript  @finder-of-rings  @haro-whumps

CW: mentioned past abuse, institutionalized slavery, boxboy universe typical slavery, aftermath of conditioning, fucked up headspace of whumpee 

The week had simultaneously stretched into an endless expanse of getting to know someone new, and flown by like the flutter of eyelashes.

Paxton’s box had caught dust, halfway forgotten in the attic by now, and Paxton had grown used to sleeping wrapped in warmth, when he was particularly lucky even in his master’s arms, and he savored every second of it.

Life in the shared flat never ceased to amaze Paxton, every new day leaving him less scared, rather eager to learn more about his new master, this new world. He cherished every newly revealed facet of Amal as he tried to assemble them into something comprehensible, piecing together the most wondrous and complex puzzle he’d ever seen.

In those last days for example, Paxton had discovered that Amal drank his tea piping hot, risking to burn his tongue rather than waiting for it to cool. He seemed to be like that with most things, always in a rush to reach his end goal as quickly as possible. The only times Amal could be patient was while creating something or when he was with Paxton.

Amal also tended to snack half the dinner ingredients, getting full before dinner was even ready but eating a portion nonetheless. Maybe, Paxton had thought, it’s because Amal often forgoes eating for hours, so absorbed in his work projects he seemingly forgets he exists in a physical body at all. Perfectly still and focused, his only movements pencil strokes over paper while he works on new tattoo designs. At certain points he would suddenly jump up, run to the bathroom, and raid the kitchen to gorge himself on all the snacks and leftovers he could find.

Paxton had made it a point to cook whenever Amal got ‘in the zone’ as Miss Meryem had jokingly called it, and even if his master had told him he didn’t have to, Paxton thought that he wanted to. Especially when it meant he could watch Amal munch away with that grateful, delighted expression of his, whenever Paxton prepared some tea or food.

Even Mister Finnegan had grown fond of Paxton, and had started  dragging him up to the attic, teaching him all about the plants overwintering there, waiting for their replanting in spring. Or how to bind winter wreaths from twigs and dried berries. Mister Finnegan had been surprised, the first time, how quickly Paxton had learned, and had praised him so much his face was still flushed red as they climbed down the attic ladder some time later.

In moments like these, Paxton wished he could still read and absorb all the precious information from the plant care guide Mister Finnegan had given to him. He longed for a time where his head didn’t explode with pain whenever he squinted at writing for too long. For when he wouldn’t get catapulted to the limits of his body, or worse, the borders of his own mind. Pain reduced him to a prisoner of bone and flesh, misfiring neurons became his jailer. 

                         --

Paxton poured noodles into warm milk with a soft sigh, careful not to burn them. A strangely familiar smell filled the kitchen while he cooked, cinnamon and sweetness anchored him in the here and now. Snowflakes danced beyond the kitchen window, crystals of cold sending phantom shivers down his spine. Paxton unrolled the soft green sleeves of his wool-sweater, letting them cover his scarred hands, soothing itchy skin, gentle like a caress. Warmth bloomed in his heart, with every slow stir of the wooden spoon, creating ripples in the milk.

What did it matter if he couldn’t read anymore? He still had his intuition, could still find parts of himself in tastes and smells and muscle memories. No, with his master’s permission to experiment, ‘or go crazy in the kitchen’ as Amal had put it, he didn’t need books, or to learn new things. The only things that mattered were that he remained good for his master, cooked things his master would enjoy, cleaned satisfactorily, (which was easy enough with such lenient masters in such a small flat), and  kept his master happy. Which was the easiest part of them all, since Amal seemed to delight in everything Paxton did. Even if he just lied on the couch, curled under blankets he couldn’t ever truly earn. But the rules were different here and Paxton’s heart began to buzz whenever he saw his master, not only with anxiety but with a warmth he thought he’d lost in an ice-cold white room. 

Satisfied with the noodle’s consistency, Paxton stirred in cinnamon and sugar, turned down the heat and started to pull bowls from the shelves as his master suddenly burst into the room, some kind of oversized smartphone clutched in one hand and a pleased grin plastered on his face.

“Paxton.” ,he said beaming.

The sudden intrusion of his cooking space made Paxton flinch, despite himself.  

Even though Amal was often buzzing around him, trying to help while he worked, it still set Paxton on edge, feeling utterly improper. A Boxboy receiving help from his master, inconveniencing him with undignified tasks like cleaning or cooking, was unforgivable! Sometimes Paxton even found himself wishing for Amal to be stricter. Yearning to just be punished by him, to be shown his place instead of being constantly overwhelmed by this kindness he didn’t even deserve.

Something must have given his unease away. His master’s grin softened into a sheepish smile as he sat down, slowly, gently placing the smartphone-like device on the table.

“Hey. Hi.” Amal’s voice grew soft, sounding almost shy and Paxton couldn’t help but return Amal’s smile. His lips and heart and body reacted all on their own around Amal. Separated from his desire to act appropriately, to be a good pet that could serve his master without breaking down crying every other day or stealing all his master’s blankets at night.

“Hi…. Uhm, welcome back… sir.”

Paxton watched his master bite back a protest at the title, allowing him to use it like he’d promised.

“I came up with something for your reading… problem.”

Turning off the stovetop, Paxton turned around, hoping the hurried steps to his master’s side wouldn’t give his eagerness away.

The way Amal’s eyes glimmered up at him, crinkling with his smile, told Paxton he’d seen right through him. Like he always did.

Paxton looked down with warming cheeks, his stockinged feet shuffling over the polished kitchen floor. “And what, uhm, what… would that be? Sir?”

A bright grin lit Amal’s face up as he brought  the device to life with the press of a tiny button. “Tadaa. A friend gave me this tablet. Like, super cheap.” His master’s grin stretched even wider, and Paxton wondered for a second if his cheeks didn’t hurt. “And it has google voice search.”

He perked up. The term sounded vaguely familiar but he couldn’t quiete place it. “Voice search?”

“Yes. Yes, come here.” Amal scooted over, shoving the tablet under Paxtons nose as soon as he’d sat down. His master leaned closer and his small body pressed up against Paxton, green curls tickling his chin as Amal rambled, his face flushed with excitement.

 “Here see, I already set it up so that only the symbols are visible. There’s no writing if you don’t go in the menu. So the important apps first. This is the Netflix symbol. Netflix is awesome because you can-“

Amal rested his elbow on Paxton’s thigh as he explained the virtues of streaming platforms and Paxton’s head blanked.  His master was so close and small and warm and smelled so so good and Paxton was utterly unable to concentrate on the tiny screen symbols for a moment.

Focus! Focus! Focus! Master said this is important.

“Okay but what’s probably the most useful for you is youtube.”

Paxton watched him tap on the small red icon and big pictures with little texts under them popped up. Thumbnails, as master called them. If Paxton squinted a bit he could ignore the letters enough to evade a new impending headache.

“There are tutorials and documentaries  and video essays for basically everything you could wish for. You just have to press the little microphone and hold it while you ask.”

“Uhm, ask- ask what, Sir?” All this new information made Paxton’s head spin.

“Uh, I don’t know,” his master confessed as he scooted back with a bashful smile and Paxton swallowed a frustrated whine. The leg master had just leaned on felt suddenly, terribly cold. He wanted master to nuzzle back against him and continue to explain new things to him in this adorably excited way of his.

Stupid, stupid Pet. You messed up and now master is just going to leave and never show you anything he likes ever again because you’re too stupid to understand it. You useless-

“Anything that interests you I guess. Hm let’s see, something other than cooking maybe.”

Paxton’s heart sank. Was it not good that he liked to cook? Master always said he didn’t have to but-

Amal waved his hands apologetically “Not that there is anything wrong with cooking.”

His master had seen right through him. Again.

“But maybe we could search for more things you like?”

You’re a pet now. What you want is irrelevant 626.

Paxton gave an insecure little nod and Amal pressed the little microphone symbol with a smile as he demanded,. “Funny cat videos.”

Sure enough, thumbnails with cute little kittens plopped up just as his master had ordered. His voice had been direct but warm. Firm. Paxton really liked to hear his master order for something, and the hope that he would maybe at some point talk to him like that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine, right to- His leg twitched as he took the tablet from his master’s hands.

“I- I want to- to try.”

“Go ahead then.” A smile tinted his master’s voice but still, this could count as an order. Right?

Unsure, Paxton pressed the microphone symbol. “Uhm, could you, you please show me how to bind flower wreaths. Please?”

Unlike when his master did it, no thumbnails appeared. He stared at the thick black letters in confusion. He must have done something wrong and the letters were meant to punish his failure. Paxton could already feel the impending headache throb behind his eyes. He wanted to endure it, to force himself and look at those letters of damnation, but Amal took the tablet from him.

Now he must have messed it up.

Fearing for the worst Paxton glanced down at his master.  Amal’s eyebrows were drawn together and the corners of his mouth twitched as teeth dug hard into his bottom lip. White sunken into pink flesh.

Surely this was it. The moment of punishment had finally come. Even his master’s patience must have reached its limits after Paxton messed up such a simple order.

Bracing for the impact he froze as his master doubled over snorting.

“Oh god you’re so cute, you know that?!”

Paxton’s mouth opened and closed like a fish stranded on land. His head spun the same way it did when he had been choked for too long. Cute? He?! Had his master ever really looked at him?! “Wha- wha- wha- what?”

Amal swiped a little tear from his eye, as he grinned up at him, still giggling. “You can’t literally formulate a whole question, you know?! Just use buzzwords or the search engine gets confused.”

That wasn’t the only thing that was confused right now.

“Buzzwords, Sir?”

“Yeah.” Amal nodded. “Like: flower wreathes tutorial.”

“But, but,” Paxton gasped, flushing red like the soft new leather collar he had chosen in a tiny salacious shop with his master yesterday. “That would, would be utterly impolite.” His voice dropped into a whisper. “I behave improperly enough as it is.”

“Hey.” Amal’s hand came up and cupped his cheek, turning Paxton’s head gently to face him. He melted into the tender caress, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he willed himself to meet his master’s soft smile. “You’re perfect, okay?! And besides, it’s impossible to be impolite to a computer program. So would you try again? For me?”

It was not fair. How could he ever deny his master if he asked like this?! Now it dawned on Paxton why Amal didn’t use any form of punishment or disciplinary measures. His master simply didn’t need to, with his dark big eyes blinking up at him like this, his full lips curved into an encouraging smile. Paxton knew he would cut his own hands open without hesitation if Amal would wish for it, so what was ignoring his training to always remain polite compared to that?!

Taking a deep breath he whispered, “Flower wreaths tutorial,” and just like his master had promised it worked. Amal rubbed soft circles in his back as pictures of artfully arranged flowers appeared on the screen. “See? I told you you’re perfect.”

Buzzing under his master’s praise, Paxton felt his own words vibrate in his chest, shatter some invisible barriere with the force of the first brick thrown June 28, 1969. A grin revealed a flash of white teeth as he whispered, “I did it.”

.

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Paxton and Amal Chapter 7

 This Chapter was lovingly edited by the amazing: @finder-of-rings

Tag list: @albino-whumpee @orchidscript @finder-of-rings @haro-whumps

CW: very brief mention of a past transphobic parent, very brief mention of past parental neglect and past domestic abuse, emotional breakdown, character with no concept of self-worth, modernized slavery typical for the Boxboy universe

 Amal sat at the kitchen table flipping through the Boxboy-manual, mood growing sour like the coffee beside him with every page turn. He should have left it in the attic to rot alongside this damned box. 

“Discipline is a necessary and humane event ensuring the continued obedience and well-being of a pet,” announced the headline of the next chapter in bold black letters, stating cruelty as detached and matter-of-factly as the conversion camp brochure Amal’s step father had come home with shortly after his outing. 

Nearly throwing the booklet against the wall Amal jumped up, grabbed the already cooled coffee pot, kicked a stool in front of the refrigerator, hopped on it and shoved the mug into the microwave, fingertip whitening under the force with which he hit the start button. 

The words burned like bile on his tongue, hardening his resolve to let no further hurt carve itself into Paxtons skin, cut deep through soft flesh and past brittle bone to settle and twist someplace beyond blood or teeth or body.

Not one to waste much time thinking about the upper-crust and their exorbitance, Amal had never paid much attention to WRU and the whole pet trade, aside from very briefly considering it during his week of homelessness, but this manual, this entire fucked-up situation made him itch with the urge to tear this raging garbage fire of a company down. 

The microwave beeped and Amal burned himself as he took the mug out, his own searing hot anger leaving him numb to the ceramic-mug's heat for a second.  He cursed as the pain set in, placing the coffee down hastily and spilling some over the table and booklet. 

Growing steadily angrier, he snatched Paxton’s papers and purchase contract up, saving it from the brown liquid. Getting questioned or dismissed later at the store because he didn’t have his paperwork in order was the least thing Amal wanted to deal with today. As he dabbed up the residue coffee, Amal heard the apartment door open. 

Meryem's worried voice wafted through the hallway as she attempted to sooth Paxton’s strained sobs. 

Amal was up in an instant, rushing into the hallway to find Paxton in a stammering, sobbing puddle beside Meryem. Various big paper bags stood around them, packed to the brim with old sweaters, jeans and jackets. 

Spotting his master with desperate, tear filled eyes, Paxton stumbled forward, falling forward at his master’s feet and pressing his forehead into Amal’s leg. He was barely able to force words out between all his sniffles and wheezes. 

“Pleasepleaseplease. Master. I tried- tried to eh-explain to to to Miss Meryem tha- that I- I wou- would... would never...” 

Helplessness held his heart hostage as Amal found Meryem's eyes, looking every bit like the panicked child he felt right now. 

 Paxton cried harder against his legs and an ancient resolve awoke in Amal’s heart anew. Pushing his own panic aside to grab someone’s hand and pull them out of whichever dark place they had lost themselves in had long since become muscle memory to him. 

Amal dropped to his knees, catching teardrops with his thumbs and rubbing gentle circles in Paxton’s cheeks. For the first time in forever, he felt his chest go tight, throat closing up at Paxton’s pain. It banished the autopilot numbness Amal had long since accepted as part of himself, born in those countless mourning hours after family fights where he had held his mother close, wishing he had the strength to let go, to turn away and let her fall into the grave she dug them both, over and over and over again. This time, he did not want to let go. Did not want to turn away. 

Amal met Paxton’s tear glazed gaze head on. 

“Ssshhh. It’s okay. Just take some deep breaths for me now. Deep breaths. In and out. Just like that, very good.” 

His own breath was shaky, catching as Paxton pressed his fever warm face into Amal’s sweaty palms, ever so slowly calming down. 

“Okay. Good. Very good. Now, what did you try to explain to Meryem, Pax?” 

Paxtons voice still shook a little as he answered. “That I don’t- don’t deserve all tho- those nice...clothes. I know I ha- haven’t earned them... yet. I know better than... than to take what... I haven’t earned. I would never... never do that. Please believe me Master I would never, please...don’t punish-” 

Remembering the cursed manual, Amal tugged Paxton into his arms, trying to make himself bigger than he was, bigger than he felt and envelop as much of Paxtons quivering body with his own small form as he could. Hands rubbing over a shaking bent back, Amal’s cheek rested against tousled black hair that tickled his lips. He pressed a kiss to Paxton’s scalp, feeling him freeze in his arms. 

“I need you to listen to me now, okay?” 

Feeling Paxton’s minuscule nod tickle against his cheek, Amal continued. 

“You do not have to earn anything here. Okay? You deserve all the clothes you could possibly wear in a lifetime. All the food you could ever eat. You deserve a warm safe place to just BE. To just be in peace. To just exist without any preconditions.” Amal nearly choked on the words he’d recited to himself like a mantra, words that he still had trouble believing in sometimes but he pressed on. “You deserve to be loved, just because you’re alive.” 

Sniffling sorely, Paxton untucked himself from Amal. His gray, red-rimmed eyes had dried as he looked up at Amal. 

“I’m sorry, sir but I... I don’t understand.” 

Heat seeped into Amal’s cold hand as he held it to Paxton’s forehead, drawing a soft whine from him as he melted into the touch. Amal’s knees ached faintly from sitting so long on the hard hallway floor but the truth of his words soothed his hurting heart. 

“Just believe me for now. You’ll understand later.”

[boxboysandotherwhump]

Chapter 4

TW: typical Boxboy Stuff, modern slavery, mentioned past abuse, mentioned training, cats

Hey my Dears. The 4 Chapter is finally finished :D I’m sorry it took a while, but i hope you guys enjoy it nonetheless^^ Please read from right to left.

Taglist: @finder-of-rings​ @orchidscript​

Read the whole Chapter under the cut