*Mature Content: Violence, death, and gore ahead. May be disturbing for some audiences. Viewer Discresion Advised.*

**Cupcake related trauma**

Suffice to say, Luan had learned a very valuable lesson at this party: Never trust cupcakes. It doesn’t matter how many sprinkles they have or how shiny their frosting is. They will be the death of you. 

He knew this, now at least, because of the many corpses that littered the ballroom, blood having spouted from their engorged faces moments prior. 

There was blood everywhere, limbs strewn about in positions not conducive to live bodies. 

He walked past one such body, face pale as chalk, eyes staring into the nothing that always meant death had come to collect. He was young, brown eyes now dulled as he lay in a pool of blood. His maroon suit fit perfectly with the circle of red surrounding his prone body. 

Chocolate frosting smudged his mouth, sprinkles, like a rainbow of death littering the edges. 

Luan would never trust cupcakes again. 

He’d expected any sort of poison to come from the wine filling the glasses of people mingling and sipping away at their worries. 

Though, he supposed any good surprise comes in the form of something cute and trusted. The real art of this mass killing was the fact they had disguised the taste of poison so well with sugary death. 

He continued through the bodies, looking for any unfortunate members of his ramshackle family that might have fallen prey to the sprinkles he had almost been considering. 

Thus far, they had remained out of his sight, seeming to have completely disappeared in the booming chaos that had surged through the place. 

Might be a better idea to run, considering he was the only living person left in this room. If the cops found him standing over a pile of mass murdered people, they might decide to blame him for it. 

Luan would never taint something sweet with death like that. Now, he was going to have psychological trauma every time he saw any form of pastry that might have frosting and sprinkles. 

Witnessing people choke to death on poison as their faces turn purple and spout blood like a fountain might do that to a guy. 

Yeah, probably better to leave. He turned to go just as a door across the room opened. 

Call it instinct, survival mode, or something. Luan didn’t want to get blamed for this or killed for having survived, so he fell over immediately. 

Though he caused a small thud to echo through the room, the men entering didn't seem to notice, continuing their conversation as they fully entered. 

“All targets have been eliminated?” The man in the lead asked, suit immaculate against the black mask over his face. 

“Yes sir. Every mark got a good dose. Not one survived, other than the designated witnesses.” A man to the side answered, fist crossing his chest as they stopped a few feet away from Luan’s lifeless acting career. He could totally play a dead body on real tv. 

“Good. Bring in the cleaners.” The man turned to leave, taking only a couple of steps before he stopped. 

Luan had decided to play dead with his eyes open, trying to simulate the youth he’d seen before, so he saw everything they were doing. 

Turning back the way he’d come, the man looked in Luans direction. 

Luan couldn’t help but tense, muscles locking into place as he tried not to move under the scrutiny. Footsteps approached slowly, as if the man had all the time in the world. 

Stopping above Luan’s fallen form, they made eye contact as the man stared down at him. 

Luan distinctly heard a chuckle from under the mask, though he couldn’t possibly see any form of smile through it. 

“Are you going to keep playing dead, flower?” 

Being this close, Luan felt a strange familiarity from that voice, muffled though it was. 

When he didn’t make a move to end his acting, the man stooped down to his level. 

“You guys are lucky he isn’t marked, or I’d have to punish you for this.” He addressed the other men, each looking away in shame or anger. 

Then, the man proceeded to scoop Luan up, eliciting a surprised squeak and putting an end to his very real career of dead body. It was the world’s loss, for sure. 

“Hey! Let me go!” Luan yelled, being roughly thrown over the guy's shoulder as he turned to leave. 

“I’m keeping this one. You guys take care of the rest.” 

A bunch of yes sirs rang out behind them before the door closed with a bang of finality. 

Luan continued his struggle, beefy shoulder digging into his stomach as he was carried down the hall. 

“Seriously, put me down, you bulky muscle head!” Luan wasn’t really proud of what he did next, but the man was ignoring his complaints, and he didn’t want to be killed in some dark backroom. He had things that needed to be done. 

He slapped his butt. Hard. 

The man paused, entire body going rigid as he stood still, muscles clenching where they rested under Luans dangling form. 

It was the dark chuckle, rumbling through the man's body, up into his own that made Luan sure he was totally dead for that move. 

He felt a large hand around his thigh, rubbing suggestively as it slowly went higher. A shiver ran down his spine, eyes widening at the implications. 

A sharp smack to his butt made him gasp, pushing off the man's back as he tried to look at him. 

When he tried to yell at him, as though the man was somehow the one who started this, he received another. 

Quick slaps, one after another, made him squirm, stubbornly biting his lips as he tried not to make a sound and give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d won. 

“Are you going to behave now?” The low rumble of the man's voice made Luan shudder, something  dark coiling in his gut as he exhaled soft pants. 

Remind him never to challenge this guy. He was clearly not in his right mind. 

His hand came back to his thigh, tightening his hold as he shifted Luans weight a bit. 

“Well, flower? Are you going to be a good boy now? Or do I have to take you over my knee in front of my men?” 

The thought made Luan squirm more, not at all happy with the way it made him feel. 

That shouldn’t sound as hot as it did. 

He forced himself to answer, submitting to the danger that had scooped him up in a room full of corpses. 

“Yes.” It was quiet, barely audible in the quiet of their breathing as they stood there. He must have heard it, if the pat on the butt and chuckle were anything to go off of. 

“That will do, for now.” The hand stayed where it was as the man started walking again. 

Luan had turned into the perfect little hostage, dangling like a sack of potatoes as they continued on their way. 

He glared at the floor as it passed beneath his prone body, a suspicious warmth sticking to his face as he thought of the perfect way to kill himself. There was no way he could continue living with the mortifying state his body was in after that rough treatment. 

Luan was supposed to have standards, not get turned on by being punished because he was a bad boy. 

Now he was worse than Miles, who he hadn’t seen since the beginning of this night. 

Maybe they were perfect for each other after all. 

They could be disgusting together.