Kookie the Pet (BTS ft blackpink) 18 +

9

Jungkook remembers waking up in a bathroom. A different bathroom with a different theme, he believed. He doesn't know why, he had just gotten a shower before dinner. He fears maybe he's missing a day in his memory, possibly more.

Then

There's no telling what he missed out on between passing out on the harsh floor and coming to on a lush rug, with Sherry and Richard's voices blocked out by the running bath faucet.

Despite everything he'd been through, he gasped at the feeling of Sherry's fingers between his neck and the collar, holding him tenderly. His eyes widened in horror towards the sight of his shirt hanging on the hamper, the destroyed pants and detached tail strewn out on the floor, and the air tickling his toes. It wasn't the same as wearing briefs around the dorm or having his clothes pulled up, or down, or around. There was no resemblance to the time he'd jokingly stripped and joined Jin in the bath, or the first night of high school when Jungkook had gotten sick and Hoseok rinsed his back off in the bath, or various other events. And even nothing like the shower earlier for some reason. Jungkook was now on the floor below waist level, stripped and possibly more, and like a baby or even an object. Not knowing what to expect next.

And the only reason was the mess he's made. Regardless of this situation, this was how it all worked, this would be their course of action. And he'd earned himself a trip to this bathroom and earned them the inconvenience.

He shrunk his head down with the jingle of his collar. 

Miranda the maid was either laughing silently or smiling casually as she walked past him to collect the dirty clothes. As she opened the chute, he and Miranda had a brief eye contact.

His eyes got bigger than they've ever been and he kept staring at the maid. Jungkook tipped forward but caught himself and was stopped by the collar. It turned into him swaying and rocking back and forth trying to mentally ground himself, stimming trying to fill in the blank space from anticipation. 

Swaying even harder when he saw that Miranda had,, in place of Jungkook's clothes left a plain gray box a little longer than Jungkook's hand. On top, a tube of lube and a bottle of what seemed to be a cleaner. And next was a little hammer, an upholstery tack hammer, but still a hammer.

The collar kept him from getting away. He tried rocking forward far enough to see, though all he could make out between the gaps was plastic packaging.

Regarding whatever this was, Miranda said, "I've taken the pleasure of sterilizing it but I brought up the cleaner that it came with."

Sherry said, "Richie, is that your birthday present?"

His foot kicked the box. "We haven't used it. Maybe now can be the time."

Jungkook moaned. His hands instinctively went to his collar's latch, desperate for even the slightest form of autonomy.

He only knew enough English to understand that he was going to be the subject of whatever was about to happen. Not enough English to contribute or have a place in the conversation. And that was only if he was conscious enough through all the panicking iIn order to not miss something. Fortunately Jungkook could rely on the odds that Sherry didn't seem too thrilled about whatever was in the box.

With that came a little comfort. Whatever had been in that box had to have been worse than a butt plug. It was far beyond Sherry's plan, and a little bit of dress up could have been the farthest Sherry was willing to go. Right? And so far she's had the final say so, which is arguably preferable compared to Richard just beating him up. 

He didn't put up much of a struggle when Miranda turned the bath water off and helped Sherry coax him in. The box and hammer were out of view; he couldn't decide whether to hone in and be ready, or risk losing even more sanity by pretending it wasn't there.