The Death of Peace - SenpaisAssbutt (2025)

The room was cold, the walls sterile and unyielding. A single bulb swung lazily from the ceiling, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to mock Gi-hun’s attempts to find solace. He sat on the edge of the cot, his hands balled into fists, nails biting into his palms.

He was supposed to be free. He had survived the games, fought tooth and nail to expose their horrors. Yet here he was, ensnared once again in the very web he’d tried to unravel.

The door opened with a soft click.

“You’re awake,” came the familiar, measured voice.

Gi-hun didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He knew that voice as well as his own now.

“What do you want, In-ho?” he muttered, his tone laced with venom.

In-ho stepped into the room, his grey coat neatly fittet to his body. The mask was absent, revealing sharp features and a gaze that burned with something Gi-hun couldn’t quite name.

“To talk,” In-ho said simply, his voice calm.

Gi-hun finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t ‘talk.’ You manipulate. You control. You destroy.”

In-ho’s lips quirked into a faint smile, but there was no humor in it. “And yet, you’re still here. Funny, isn’t it?”

------------------------------------

Days bled into nights, each interaction between them charged with unspoken tension. Gi-hun tried to ignore the way In-ho lingered, his presence a constant, oppressive weight. But there was something maddening about the way In-ho watched him, as if he could see straight through every layer of defiance Gi-hun put up.

One evening, Gi-hun snapped.

“Why do you keep me here?” he demanded, slamming his fists against the metal table in the small interrogation room where they often spoke. “What do you want from me?”

In-ho leaned back in his chair, unruffled. “I told you. I want to understand you.”

“Understand me?” Gi-hun laughed bitterly. “You don’t care about me. I’m just another piece in your twisted game.”

In-ho’s eyes darkened. He stood, walking around the table until he was standing directly behind Gi-hun.

“You’re wrong,” In-ho murmured, his voice low, almost dangerous. “This has nothing to do with the game. This is about you.”

Gi-hun’s breath caught as In-ho’s hands rested on his shoulders, firm yet careful. He wanted to shrug them off, to scream, but his body betrayed him, frozen under the weight of In-ho’s touch.

“You’re not like the others,” In-ho continued, his fingers tightening ever so slightly. “You don’t bend. You don’t break. And it infuriates me.”

“Good,” Gi-hun spat, his voice shaky.

In-ho swung them around, pushing Gi-hun against the wall, leaning thi swhole body against him.

In-ho’s lips brushed against Gi-hun’s ear as he whispered, “But it also fascinates me.”

--------------------------------------

He hated In-ho. Hated the way he controlled everything, the way he always seemed one step ahead.

But he hated himself more for the way his skin burned under In-ho’s gaze. For the way his pulse quickened when their arguments turned physical, In-ho pinning him against a wall, his breath hot and unrelenting.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts. Before he could answer, In-ho walked in, his expression unreadable.

“What now?” Gi-hun asked, his voice dripping with irritation.

In-ho didn’t respond. Instead, he crossed the room in a few long strides, grabbing Gi-hun’s wrist and pulling him close.

“You’re restless,” In-ho said, his voice soft but firm. “I can feel it. You’re fighting something you don’t even understand.”

“Let go of me,” Gi-hun hissed, struggling against In-ho’s grip.

But In-ho didn’t let go. Instead, he pushed Gi-hun back against the wall, his hands on either side of him, caging him in.

“You think you can fight me?” In-ho whispered, his face inches from Gi-hun’s. “Fight this?”

Gi-hun’s chest heaved as he glared up at him. “You don’t own me.”

In-ho chuckled darkly, his fingers brushing against Gi-hun’s jawline. “Don’t I?”

------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t long before Gi-hun realized the truth: peace was a lie. Every moment with In-ho was a battle, a game of wills where neither could fully claim victory.

One night, after a particularly heated argument, Gi-hun found himself sitting on the floor of his room, his back against the wall. In-ho sat across from him, his expression unusually soft.

“Why me?” Gi-hun asked, his voice quiet.

In-ho didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

“Because you remind me of what I’ve lost,” he said. “And what I’ll never have.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, Gi-hun saw the cracks in In-ho’s armor. He wasn’t just a monster. He was a man, haunted by his own demons.

“You’re sick,” Gi-hun said, but his voice lacked its usual venom.

In-ho’s lips twisted into a sad smile. “Maybe. But if I’m sick, then so are you. Because you haven’t tried to leave. Not really.”

Gi-hun looked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He hated how much truth there was in In-ho’s words.

---------------------------------

The room was suffocating. Not from its size, but from the way In-ho’s presence filled it completely. Gi-hun sat on the edge of the cot, his body tense as In-ho stood before him, the trench coat discarded on a nearby chair.

“You’re trembling,” In-ho said, his voice soft yet taunting.

Gi-hun’s eyes snapped up to meet his, defiance burning in his gaze. “I’m not afraid of you.”

In-ho smirked, stepping closer until Gi-hun could feel the faint warmth radiating from his body. “Fear has nothing to do with it,” he murmured, leaning down so their faces were mere inches apart.

Gi-hun’s breath hitched as In-ho’s hand reached out, trailing his fingers along Gi-hun’s jawline. The touch was gentle, almost tender, but the intent behind it was anything but.

“You act like you can fight me,” In-ho said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “But we both know you’ve already lost.”

Gi-hun’s heart pounded in his chest, his body betraying him as heat pooled in his stomach. “You’re delusional,” he spat, his voice trembling.

“Am I?” In-ho’s hand slid down, wrapping lightly around Gi-hun’s throat. The pressure was barely there, just enough to make Gi-hun aware of how easily In-ho could take control.

Gi-hun’s breath quickened, his hands instinctively grabbing In-ho’s wrist. But he didn’t push him away.

“Do you feel that?” In-ho murmured, his thumb brushing against the rapid pulse in Gi-hun’s neck. “Your body betrays you, no matter how much you hate me.”

--------------------------------------------------

Gi-hun tried to push him away, but In-ho was unrelenting, stepping forward, grabbing Gi-hun and dragging him into his own office.

“You keep fighting me,” In-ho said, his voice soft but firm. “But tell me this—when you close your eyes at night, am I the one you see?”

Gi-hun’s lips parted as he struggled to find words. The truth lodged itself in his throat, too bitter to swallow, too raw to deny.

“Get off me,” he finally said, his voice lacking conviction.

In-ho chuckled, a deep, low sound that sent a shiver down Gi-hun’s spine. “You don’t really want that, do you?”

Gi-hun glared at him, his hands pressing against In-ho’s chest in a futile attempt to create space. “You’re sick,” he hissed.

“And you’re mine,” In-ho countered, his lips brushing against Gi-hun’s ear.

Gi-hun’s body tensed as In-ho’s teeth grazed his earlobe, a soft, fleeting touch that left him breathless. In-ho’s hands slid down, gripping Gi-hun’s wrists and pinning them above his head.

“You don’t get to run from this,” In-ho said, his voice a low growl. “Not anymore.”

------------------------------------------------------------

The room was a furnace of tension, every breath a challenge, every touch a battle.

Gi-hun’s back hit the wall with a muted thud, and In-ho followed, his body pressing against him with unrelenting force. Their faces were inches apart, and the heat radiating between them was almost unbearable.

“Tell me to stop,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

Gi-hun glared up at him, defiance burning in his eyes. “You won’t.”

In-ho’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “You’re right.”

Without warning, In-ho closed the distance, capturing Gi-hun’s mouth in a searing kiss. It wasn’t gentle—it was a clash of teeth and tongues, a desperate, punishing dance that left no room for air. Gi-hun tried to push him away, but his resistance faltered as In-ho’s hands slid to his waist, gripping him firmly.

Gi-hun’s fingers curled into the fabric of In-ho’s shirt, pulling him closer even as his mind screamed at him to stop. But his body refused to listen, responding to every touch with a fire he hadn’t felt in years.

“You’re mine,” In-ho whispered against his lips, his hands trailing down to Gi-hun’s thighs. “Say it.”

Gi-hun shook his head, his breath hitching as In-ho’s grip tightened, forcing him to look into those dark, piercing eyes. “No,” he rasped, but his voice betrayed him, trembling with desire.

In-ho’s lips curved into a smirk as he leaned in, his teeth grazing Gi-hun’s jawline. “Liar.”

He shifted, his hands sliding under Gi-hun’s shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin. Gi-hun shivered at the contact, his head falling back against the wall as In-ho’s lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck.

“You hate this, don’t you?” In-ho murmured, his voice a low growl as his tongue flicked against the sensitive skin just below Gi-hun’s ear.

Gi-hun let out a shaky breath, his hands clutching at In-ho’s shoulders for support. “I hate you,” he whispered, but it sounded more like a plea than a declaration.

In-ho chuckled darkly, his hands sliding lower, gripping Gi-hun’s hips and pulling him flush against his body. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Their mouths met again, this time slower, deeper, as if they were trying to consume each other. Gi-hun’s hands tangled in In-ho’s hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan. The sound sent a thrill down Gi-hun’s spine, and he hated how much he wanted to hear it again.

“Say it,” In-ho demanded, his voice rough as he pulled back just enough to look Gi-hun in the eyes.

Gi-hun shook his head stubbornly, his chest heaving. “No.”

In-ho’s hand moved to his throat, his grip firm but not suffocating, just enough to make Gi-hun feel the weight of his control. “Say it,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Gi-hun’s resolve crumbled under the intensity of In-ho’s gaze. “I’m yours,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

In-ho’s lips crashed against his again, swallowing the confession as his hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of Gi-hun’s body. Their movements became frantic, desperate, as if they were both trying to escape something only the other could provide.

Pinned against the wall, Gi-hun clung to In-ho, his mind a blur of anger, desire, and something dangerously close to surrender.

“You’re beautiful like this,” In-ho murmured against his skin, his voice raw with emotion. “Broken. Mine.”

Gi-hun closed his eyes, his body arching into In-ho’s touch as his lips moved down his chest, marking him in ways that would linger for a long time.

--------------------------------------------------------

"You're not going anywhere, ever" In-ho said, his voice firm and unyielding. Gi-hun looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and hope.

Gi-hun had always been a survivor. From the squalid streets of his youth to the twisted games he had just endured, he knew how to play the game. But this was a game he had never anticipated. The game master himself, In-ho, the man who had orchestrated the Squid Game, had him now, and he wasn't playing for money or freedom. In-ho had something else in mind.

Gi-hun's heart raced as In-ho's hand reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into those piercing eyes that had haunted his dreams. The room was dimly lit, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rapid thumping of his own heart. The office, once a place of power and control for the Front Man, was now a stage for a different kind of power struggle, one that played out in hushed whispers and heavy breaths.

In-ho's grip tightened as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against Gi-hun's trembling lips. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a seductive purr that sent shivers down Gi-hun's spine. Gi-hun's eyes searched for an escape, but all he found was the cold, unwavering resolve in In-ho's gaze. His body betrayed him, responding to the dominance in a way that made him feel both weak and exhilarated. He knew he should fight, should push back, but the thrill of submission was too potent to resist.

With a sudden move, In-ho shoved Gi-hun onto the desk, knocking over papers and pens that scattered across the floor. Gi-hun's hands fumbled against the wood, trying to find purchase, but his legs were too shaky to do much good. In-ho took advantage of his vulnerability, grabbing his wrists and pinning them above his head with one hand while the other roamed down his body, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the tremble in his stomach, the hardness growing in his pants. "Beg for it," In-ho whispered, his breath a hot caress against Gi-hun's neck.

Gi-hun's eyes squeezed shut as he bit back a moan. He didn't want to give In-ho the satisfaction of hearing him beg, but the need was building, coiling like a snake in his belly. The heat of In-ho's hand through his clothes was maddening, and he couldn't help but arch into the touch, silently pleading for more. In-ho's grip tightened around his wrists, the pressure sending sparks of pain up his arms, making his body sing with a dark kind of pleasure.

In-ho leaned down, his mouth hovering over Gi-hun's ear. "Say it," he ordered, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. "Tell me how much you want it." Gi-hun's breath hitched, his voice a ragged whisper. "Please," he murmured, the word slipping out before he could stop it. In-ho chuckled, the sound low and sinister. "That's a start," he said, his other hand deftly unbuckling Gi-hun's belt and unzipping his pants.

Gi-hun's eyes shot open as In-ho's hand wrapped around his erection, stroking him firmly. His hips bucked involuntarily, and he couldn't help but let out a needy whine. In-ho's grip was perfect, just tight enough to make him ache, just fast enough to make him squirm. "Is this what you want?" In-ho asked, his thumb circling the sensitive head of Gi-hun's cock. "To be used by me?" Gi-hun's eyes rolled back, his body responding to the possessive tone in In-ho's voice. "Yeah," he breathed, his voice shaking with desire. "Please, In-ho, please..."

The sound of his own pleading filled Gi-hun's ears, and he felt a strange sense of liberation. This wasn't the first time he had been in a situation where he had no control, but it was the first time it felt like this, like his very soul was laid bare and exposed to the man above him. In-ho smirked, the corners of his mouth tilting up in a cruel, satisfied smile. He leaned in and nipped Gi-hun's earlobe, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. "Good boy," he murmured, the words sending a thrill down Gi-hun's spine

.

Gi-hun's pants and boxers were shoved down to his ankles, leaving him completely exposed to In-ho's hungry gaze. The cool air of the office caressed his heated skin, making him shiver in anticipation. He could feel the wetness pooling between his legs, his body already betraying his reluctant arousal. In-ho took a moment to admire his handiwork, his eyes lingering on the flushed head of Gi-hun's cock. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and damp, and licked a slow, teasing path from the base to the tip. Gi-hun's hips jerked upwards, a desperate moan escaping his lips. "Beg," In-ho reminded him, his voice a dark promise.

Gi-hun's eyes squeezed shut as he swallowed hard. "Please," he panted, the word barely audible. "Please, In-ho, I need..." His voice trailed off into a whine as In-ho's mouth closed around him, sucking hard. The sensation was exquisite, the pressure building until he thought he might come right then and there. But In-ho was a master at playing this game, and he knew exactly how much to give and how much to withhold. He pulled back, leaving Gi-hun's cock glistening and painfully erect.

Gi-hun's hips thrust upward, seeking relief, but In-ho's hand pushed him back down, holding him in place. "Patience," he said, a note of amusement in his voice. "I want to savor this." He leaned back in, his tongue tracing the veins along Gi-hun's length before taking him in deep again, his throat working as he swallowed around him. Gi-hun's legs trembled, his toes curling in his shoes. The feeling was so intense, so overwhelming, that he couldn't help but let out a desperate moan.

In-ho's eyes never left Gi-hun's face, watching the play of pleasure and pain as he sucked and licked, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. He could feel Gi-hun's body tense, his muscles straining against the restraint, and it only made him want more. He released Gi-hun's wrists, moving his hand to cup his balls, rolling them gently in his palm. Gi-hun's back arched off the desk, his nails digging into the wood. "In-ho," he gasped, his voice thick with need.

The sound of his name on Gi-hun's lips was intoxicating. In-ho reached up with his free hand, tweaking one of Gi-hun's nipples, watching as the younger man's eyes went wide with surprise and arousal. He pinched and twisted, feeling the bud harden under his touch. Gi-hun's hips jerked upwards again, seeking more friction, more pressure, and In-ho chuckled, enjoying the control he had. He leaned in closer, taking Gi-hun's entire length into his mouth, the tip brushing the back of his throat. Gi-hun's hands flew to his hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to guide the movement, to force In-ho to go faster, deeper, but In-ho had other plans. He pulled back, giving a final, teasing lick before standing up straight.

Gi-hun's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving with desperate breaths. "Why are you stopping?" he whined, his voice high and needy. In-ho smirked, his eyes glinting with a wicked light. "Because," he said, leaning down to whisper in Gi-hun's ear, "I want to hear you beg some more." He stepped back, admiring the way Gi-hun's body was laid out before him, the way his cock stood at attention, the way his chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. He reached out and slapped Gi-hun's thigh, the sound echoing in the quiet office. "Keep those legs spread."

Gi-hun complied, his legs trembling as he held himself open for In-ho's perusal. The anticipation was agonizing, his body on the edge of climax, but In-ho was in no hurry. He took his time unbuttoning his own shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest, each movement deliberate and calculated to drive Gi-hun wild. He stepped closer again, his own erection pressing against his slacks, and Gi-hun couldn't help but stare, his eyes glazed with lust. "Please," he begged again, his voice a desperate whine. "I'll do anything."

In-ho's smirk grew wider. "Is that so?" He reached down, unzipping his pants to free his cock. It was long and thick, the same one that had brought him so much pleasure in his private moments, now standing tall and demanding Gi-hun's attention. He stepped closer, rubbing the head against Gi-hun's lower lip. "Prove it," he said, his voice low and menacing. Gi-hun didn't hesitate. He opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick the precum from the tip. In-ho's groan filled the room, and Gi-hun felt a strange sense of pride. He was good at this, at giving pleasure, at making others want him.

He took In-ho's cock into his mouth, sucking eagerly, trying to show In-ho just how much he needed this, how much he wanted to be used. In-ho's hand found the back of Gi-hun's head, guiding him, pushing him further down until he could feel the head of In-ho's cock at the back of his throat. Gi-hun gagged, his eyes watering, but In-ho didn't stop. He held him there, watching the tears stream down Gi-hun's face, enjoying the way he struggled to breathe, to swallow.

Gi-hun's hands reached out, grasping In-ho's thighs for balance as he bobbed his head, his cheeks hollowing with each suck. In-ho's hips rocked into the movement, his grip on Gi-hun's hair tightening, his breath coming in ragged pants. "That's it," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Take it all." Gi-hun's eyes rolled back, and he moaned around the cock in his mouth, the vibrations sending a shiver down In-ho's spine.

In-ho could feel his orgasm building, his thighs tensing as he fought to hold back. But he wasn't ready to end this game yet. He pulled out abruptly, leaving Gi-hun gasping for air. "Not yet," he said, his voice strained with need. "I'm not done with you." He leaned over, capturing Gi-hun's mouth in a bruising kiss, tasting himself on the other man's tongue. Gi-hun's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, his body arching up from the desk. The kiss was desperate, hungry, and In-ho reveled in the power he held, the way Gi-hun's body melded to his own.

Breaking the kiss, In-ho reached for the lube on the desk, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. Gi-hun's eyes went wide as he felt the cool slickness against his entrance, but he didn't protest. Instead, he pushed back against In-ho's hand, silently begging for more. In-ho chuckled, the sound dark and possessive. "Greedy," he murmured, pushing one finger inside, watching as Gi-hun's body tensed and relaxed around him. He added a second, then a third, his movements slow and deliberate, stretching Gi-hun open, preparing him for what was to come.

Gi-hun's moans grew louder, his body writhing against the desk as In-ho's fingers curled and twisted inside him, hitting all the right spots. "Please," he panted, his voice hoarse with need. "I need you." In-ho's eyes gleamed with victory, and he leaned in, his mouth close to Gi-hun's ear. "You'll have me," he said, his voice a gruff whisper. "But you'll beg for it first." He withdrew his fingers, and Gi-hun's body protested the sudden emptiness.

With a swift motion, In-ho positioned himself, the head of his cock pressing against Gi-hun's entrance. Gi-hun's eyes squeezed shut, his breathing shallow and fast. "Beg," In-ho demanded again, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down Gi-hun's spine. "Beg for me to fuck you." Gi-hun's voice was a desperate whine. "Please, In-ho, I'm begging. I need you inside me." In-ho's chest rumbled with a satisfied laugh, and he pushed forward, filling Gi-hun in one slow, deliberate stroke.

Gi-hun's eyes flew open, a sharp cry escaping his lips as In-ho's cock breached him. The pain was intense, but it was quickly overridden by the feeling of being claimed, of being In-ho's. He'd never felt so full, so alive, and it was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. In-ho began to move, his hips snapping against Gi-hun's ass, the desk creaking with each powerful thrust. Gi-hun's hands scrabbled for purchase, his nails leaving little half-moons in the wood as he tried to find something to hold onto, to anchor himself in the storm of sensation.

In-ho's hand reached down, wrapping around Gi-hun's cock again. He began to stroke him in time with his thrusts, the rhythm relentless and unforgiving. Gi-hun's hips moved of their own accord, trying to get more, to find that sweet spot that would push him over the edge. In-ho's thumb flicked over his slit, smearing pre-cum across the sensitive head, making Gi-hun's eyes roll back in his head. "That's it," In-ho murmured, his voice a dark, seductive whisper. "Take it all."

Gi-hun's breath hitched, and his body tightened around In-ho's cock as he felt the beginnings of his climax building. In-ho's hand was a blur, his strokes sure and steady, pushing Gi-hun closer and closer to the precipice. The pressure grew, a coil of heat in Gi-hun's belly that threatened to consume him. "Please," Gi-hun begged, his voice high and keening. "Please, let me come."

In-ho leaned down, his teeth grazing Gi-hun's ear. "Not yet," he murmured, his voice a dark promise. "You're going to come when I say so." His grip on Gi-hun's cock tightened, and he paused his strokes, watching the younger man's face contort with need. Gi-hun whined, his hips jerking in frustration. He was so close, so fucking close, but In-ho held him there, on the edge of oblivion.

Gi-hun's eyes squeezed shut, his teeth clenched as he tried to hold back the tide of pleasure. But In-ho had other ideas. He leaned in closer, his cock still buried deep inside Gi-hun, and whispered, "Look at me." Gi-hun's eyes snapped open, meeting In-ho's intense gaze. The dominance in those eyes was undeniable, and Gi-hun felt his body respond, his cock twitching in In-ho's hand. "You're going to come when I do," In-ho said, his voice a command.

Gi-hun nodded, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. In-ho's strokes grew faster, harder, pushing Gi-hun closer and closer to the edge. His hips pistoned into Gi-hun's body, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. Gi-hun could feel the muscles in In-ho's arms and shoulders tense, feel the power behind each thrust. He knew he was going to come, and it was going to be explosive.

With a final, guttural groan, In-ho let go of Gi-hun's cock and gripped his hips, pulling him closer. "Now," he ground out, his voice deep and rough. Gi-hun's eyes rolled back as he felt In-ho's cock swell inside him, and then In-ho was coming, filling him with hot, thick spurts of cum. The sensation was too much, and Gi-hun's own orgasm crashed over him, his cock spurting in time with In-ho's thrusts. He screamed, the sound echoing in the empty office, his body convulsing with the intensity of it all.

In-ho didn't stop moving, his hips still snapping into Gi-hun's ass as he milked every drop of pleasure from him. Gi-hun's legs gave out, and he would have collapsed if not for In-ho's firm grip. They stayed there, locked together, their bodies trembling and sweat-slicked, until finally, the last of the pleasure receded. In-ho pulled out with a wet pop, and Gi-hun slumped against the desk, his legs giving out.

The air in the room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. In-ho stepped back, his cock still half-hard and glistening. Gi-hun couldn't help but stare, his own cock still pulsing with aftershocks of his orgasm. In-ho reached down and helped Gi-hun to his feet, his gaze never leaving Gi-hun's face. "You're mine," he said again, his voice softer now, but no less possessive. "You always were."

The Death of Peace - SenpaisAssbutt (2025)
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