squid game roleplay recruitment
adult○dark△literate□
❝sit down, this will take a while❞༺𓆩🗡
primary character played
𓆝 항 인호 || Hwang In-ho || the Front Man || 132 + 001반
other characters written
˚₊‧ Choi Woo-seok ₩ Hwang Jun-ho ₩ Seong Gi-hun ₩ Officer ₩ Recruiter ₩ Kim Yeong-sam || Player 226 .⋆♱ཀ
open to play
anyone
craving
In-ho x Officer (x Recruiter) ₩ Park Jung-bae x Oh Young-il
writer is: 35, he/they, advanced literate to casual chatplay form
you are: 25+, interested in dead dove topics, chatting and plotting ooc, and having fun with the characters
platform: discord preferred, open to others
❝what do you want from me?❞ ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ☽˚⋆
aggressive, toxic men fighting over topping/both bottoming for each other, doing the worst things to each other, and remaining obsessed . mxm ships only, polyships adored . smut and plot . disability & sexual difference headcanons
do not want: specific depictions of violence against women, men's attraction to women, characters under 18
❝if that's what you want…❞°˖⋆♞
please dm me if interested !
sample
Writing Hwang In-ho and Seong Gi-hun in a Cho Sang-woo x Hwang In-ho roleplay
{content contains references to nonconsensual drug use}
In the days following the end of the 33rd games, a tiny landscape filled the palm of the Front Man's gloved hand; though the gray executioner remained unyielding in his position among a palace of corpses, his regular dealings of death were clotted with the unshakeable memory. Endless sand consumed his vanishing footsteps, still filling his boots from when they hunted down his brother. Thorned meadowgrass, spindly pine trees warped as if by Dalí's brush; the shimmering straight line of ocean where the Front Man spared Hwang Jun-ho with a gunshot and a fleeting shred of agonizing death.
It shook In-ho. He tried not to think about why, avoiding his brother's eyes in the mirror. But he decided then. Jun-ho would remain alive. He would never find the games. For as long as possible.
The consequences of In-ho's sentiment would be a premature, perhaps more painful death for himself. In-ho supposed it did put fear in him, as if he wasn't so dead after all -- as if he wanted to prolong himself long enough for Jun-ho to properly hate him and want him dead, so Jun-ho would be spared the pointless grief.
“I didn’t want to die alone. That’s why I didn’t finish it. I wanted him to see me… like that. Helpless. Honest. Just once.” Since waking up after that night with 218, the player's words circled In-ho, voice slow from drugs while the man's hands held In-ho's monstrous claw. Scorn fluttered like a torn wing over the flare of his heartbeat. In-ho would dose himself with some GlenAllachie, perhaps an IV full of various substances, and put the mask back on. Proceed to kill himself as much as possible in preparation for the real thing. Play games with death.
Fog suffocated the crowded buildings in the western outskirts of Seoul, creeping with the beetle eyes of CCTV cameras. The night air was heavy as the beginnings of a storm hampered through. The mask in the shape of Oh Young-il leveled his gaze as he observed the prostitution motel where he knew the 33rd winner now dwelled. When the door opened, he knew he would be watching not one, but two sharply familiar faces emerge. Even though he knew of it, the sight of them bloated his arteries with unwelcome nostalgia, the gray field with their bodies and blood strewn across as 456 voted to end the game. The moment that gave the Front Man pause.
When In-ho owned something, he laid his whole body down on it to bleed. The crunch of cartilage played back through his mind, the resistant lurch and leaking repulsion, the helpless surrender of his flesh impaled by a blade held by 218 that night they spent at the motel. The blood he mourned as he woke up, finding himself patched together and dull once again. He found himself resenting his body without the blood of his player to dirty it. Sentiment. Inexplicable, unreasonable -- there was little point in trying to dissect it, other than to extract its use towards a concrete, measurable goal.
218 had the mindless ego to make an attempt on In-ho's life. He all but succeeded. In-ho wanted it and abhorred it all at once. The pain of it had been shocking and brutal and humiliating, but the fact that 218 had gotten close enough to give In-ho a worthy date with death -- it was like a sharpening stone to a blade. In-ho craved Cho's favor and his destruction with equal urgency.
To Kim Jeong-rae, Oh Young-il was an associate of a friend of a friend; an extremely valuable, useful asset that perfectly suited Kim's unorthodox needs. He stood alongside three other folks of questionable backgrounds, lined up between a large, black SUV and Kim, the CEO of Sunshine Capital with hands in several black market operations.
Young-il's blink stuttered a fraction, his breath slowing marginally as he observed Seong Gi-hun and Cho Sang-woo step out of the motel into the dusty streetlight. Sang-woo's stubble glistened over his gem-cut jaw, a red-tinted brushstroke through his forehead lined with imperfect silver sutures.
That smoke-curled gaze reached like a shadow over Cho's towering frame. The night they spent together came back to In-ho like the drugs he sent coursing through Sang-woo's veins. The chemicals that rendered Sang-woo vulnerable -- the vulnerability that annihilated In-ho's self-control. Memories throbbed in the fresh scars of stab wounds.
"Seong Gi-hun-ssi," Kim greeted, stepping forward, nodding vaguely at Cho. There was a stutter in Kim's demeanor. He lifted a bottle of water, thrusting it into Seong's hands. "These are the men I told you about. Relentless types who get the job done. Choi Woo-seok-ssi. Lee Jong-woo-ssi. Oh Young-il-ssi. We're all set and ready to head out to survey the rendezvous points."
Seong's fingers curled around the bottle of water, barely glancing at anyone. Young-il's gaze clung steadfast to Cho as Seong cleared his throat, voice faded. "Right. This is -- someone who can help." He hesitated, as if waiting for Cho to fill in his name, then nodded and started towards the SUV as if trying to avoid the introduction. Young-il inhaled steadily as he anticipated Cho's response.
in-ho lore
{references to noncon}
The Front Man ˗ˏˋ ✞ ˎˊ˗ Shadow of the Host
Joining Il-nam, In-ho became his shadow. Il-nam stripped away everything that In-ho ever was, placed it in front of him, and had In-ho intimately strangle every piece until it was all well and truly dead. Il-nam placed In-ho among the guards to learn the trials of violence, how to judge and execute without a single thought. Il-nam broke down In-ho's consciousness, and In-ho welcomed it. It felt like being saved.
In-ho mimics Il-nam's behavior, and he tries to do whatever he can to please him, unconsciously and consciously. He has an inexplicable emotional attachment to Il-nam as the merciful man who saved his life when the games' patrons had fated him to die. He cares for Il-nam's legacy as if it were his own.
Il-nam gave In-ho another chance, just like he did for the likes of Yeong-gil Park, the Officer, the Recruiter. In-ho is unquestionably loyal the creator of the Games. He hates him and what he has done, he hates the gruesome violence (mostly when towards himself), but he respects Il-nam as successful, as someone who embraces the ultimate truth and value in life, as someone who knows better. In his way, In-ho adores Il-nam. He gives In-ho permission to still love his biological father, who he witnessed horrifically harm Jun-ho, the person In-ho is supposed to protect and love most of all. Il-nam gives permission for In-ho to be the person he hates. Makes In-ho feel good for it. And that's addictive.
After Il-nam got his terminal diagnosis and played in the games, he changed. Il-nam was never a religious person, and then he started talking about Jesus. It rattled In-ho. It disturbed him to see Il-nam look like he might regret any of it. In-ho's mind has been scrambling to avoid that fate.
𓆝 𓆟 desire𓆞 𓇢𓆸
Violence has been the only thing that makes In-ho feel anything, for as long as he can remember. He's been made to feel his asexuality is what makes him a monster, and he has been forced to mutate and mask it expertly. The games gave him permission to be what feels more like himself. More honest, even if it's repulsive. he hates feeling numb, so he will adopt any kind of violence and eagerly hunts down and murders any hint of morality he feels inside himself.
After becoming Il-nam's right hand, In-ho's sexuality is confused and unlike anything he has felt before. He believes he has always had violence in him, and repressed it. But that may not be the case, as he would be happy to be asexual and left alone without the pressures of the world refining him into something sharp. He's been forced to be other things, and experienced sexual trauma, which has been a source of fascination for him.
In-ho believes desire is the source of all suffering as described in Jacques Lacan's theory on lack. To be eradicated.
i need gihun to cradle inho’s face very very tenderly in his shaking hands before he tells him the cruelest thing he can and all inho can do is look at him with undying devotion
youngil thoughts (as in not real. very dead. silly): am i just hurting myself by holding on to a shred of hope that jung-bae might kiss me on the mouth
