Roleplay Scenarios
Short plots for romantically charged roleplays, with various pairings that could fit the scenario. Feel free to let me know if there are any alterations or additions you might like to make.
o1. Company Retreat
Employee's Wife x Company CEO
Married Woman x Lover
Older Man x Younger Woman
A timid young woman accompanies her passionless, businessman husband to an upscale resort for his company retreat. While there, she accidentally walks in on her husband's employer nude at the spa, sparking a fierce jealousy in her husband and a lustful interest in his boss. After managing to sneak away from her husband for a late night dip in the hot springs, she is surprised to find his employer fervently pursuing her.
o2. Criminal Desire
Gangster x Pleasure Girl
Master x Slave
Older Man x Younger Woman
* ( possible starter post below )
A modern day gangster works his way up the ranks of a prestigious crime family, doing their dirty work obediently and without much remorse. For his success, they gift him a young woman who, after betraying them, has been punished with a choice: death, or accepting the position of a sex worker. She chooses the latter but is bitterly resentful, and he must cope with her hatred as well as the feelings she stirs in him.
o3. The Nurse
Nurse x Patient
Older Man x Younger Woman
A young nurse is assigned to tend to a particularly difficult patient who had been badly injured (horribly burned, partially immobilized, etc.) but refuses to cooperate or accept aid. She manages to win him over somehow, and feelings develop between the two as she helps him to recover.
o4. The Photographer
Photographer x Model
A financially desperate college student decides to turn to modeling to make some extra cash and goes to the studio of a seasoned photographer in search of work. He is enamored with her at once but she is very self-conscious and shy. As their artistic endeavors grow increasingly more racy and intimate, he attempts to bring her out of her shell.
o5. The Painter
Painter x Model
Maid x Master
Older Man x Younger Woman
A shy young woman works as a maid in the house of a successful painter. She admires him and his work but he doesn't seem to notice her for months until one day, he asks for her to pose for him. She nervously accepts, and the two work together surreptitiously behind the back of the painter's wife, and come to get better acquainted.
o6. Troubled Youth
Demon x Boarding School Student
* ( possible starter post in journal )
A young student at a prestigious boarding school finds herself having trouble fitting in, too shy and reserved to mix well with the other teenagers. While off on her own exploring the centuries-old estate that comprises the school, she discovers a strange pendant and, using it, unknowingly releases a demon lord. She begins having frightening visions and realizes that she's been gifted with strange powers, and the demon informs her that she is the ancestor of his long since dead lover, the original mistress of the estate, murdered for having been thought a witch. He tries to persuade the girl that it is their destiny to be together, and she is both terrified and thrilled by her new powers, as well as her demon suitor.
Roleplay Starters
An Office Romance
boss x secretary
Two months she’d been working for him. Answering his phone, recording his messages, bringing him his coffee every morning of the week. Camille Auclair was practically the man’s servant, and yet, she hardly knew him. The twenty-four-year-old hadn’t really cared so much at the start of her employment. She’d snagged the job and its ample salary with an impressive résumé just as soon as she’d finished her last year in college; she didn’t give a damn who she was working for or what tasks she had to do as long as the paycheck came on time and her boss gave her a good recommendation when a better job came along. All she wanted was to climb the corporate ladder. She was determined, ambitious, level-headed with her goal always in sight. Or at least, she had been.
Lately her priorities had somewhat changed. She’d grown… interested in her employer. He’d been such a distant man and it sort of irritated her. She sat at her desk outside his office all day, and she wondered if he’d ever really looked at her before. Everyone else looked at her, after all. She was probably the youngest employee in the office building, and it would be difficult for anyone to deny that she was attractive. Her build was slender and gracefully feminine, though not without the curves that made for a pair of shapely hips and a supple bosom, and her skin was smooth and fair as fresh cream. A pair of full, ripe lips, pale red, accented her face along with expressive hazel eyes, all framed by tendrils of dark auburn hair. The other men in the office looked at her all the time, stopped by her desk to ask stupid questions just to peer a little closer. But her boss? Nothing. She gave to him her most charming smiles, pranced about in her most flattering skirts, strutted in high heels that added even more tantalizing length to her slender legs, and still, not even a glimmer.
Was Camille attracted to the man? Well, she wasn’t completely sure. But her own vanity begged to know why he didn’t seem attracted to her. This morning she’d left her white blouse unfastened down to the third button, just enough so that one could glimpse the black lace edging of her bra if they looked properly, and deliberately leaned in close when setting down some papers on her employer’s desk. He’d have had a perfect view, a perfect glance down her shirt and over the smooth swell of each soft breast and across the lace bra that so snugly cradled them. And did he look? No. At least, not as far as Camille could tell. It was maddening. She’d been making these subtle attempts to tease him for the last week, and every time he denied her she felt snubbed, her ego slightly bruised. She wondered if the man noticed her at all.
Whether he did or not, Camille supposed she shouldn’t keep scheming this way any longer. It was childish and stupid, and she was ridiculous to have already made such an effort. As the work day dwindled down, her keen amber eyes turned briefly to her boss’ office door. It was dark outside the tall windows of the office building and usually her employer would’ve gone home by now. Camille made a habit of working late into the evenings, preparing everything she’d need the following morning, but it was getting late even by her standards. The lights in most of the other offices were shut off, all the cubicles empty. She looked once more to her employer’s door, then turned back to her computer, logged off, and stood up from her desk. She wondered what occupied him so late into the night, but she decided she wouldn’t bother disturbing him. If it was anything important, she’d have already been well-informed of it. Grabbing her empty coffee cup from her desk, she wandered off to the little kitchenette, her black pumps clicking softly on the floor. The small kitchen was dark but she didn’t bother to turn on the light. She’d just go to the sink and rinse out her cup, then get ready to head home. Tomorrow she’d button her shirt up all the way to her neck and end all of this foolishness about her boss.
Fantasy
orc x peasant
Three days ago, when the raid had begun, she’d thought her life would end. And sometimes now, she wished it had.
Annora had never expected that her small, humble village would ever even be noticed by the battles that were rumored to be raging on in the world outside their farmlands and pastures. The raid was wholly unexpected and all the more devastating for it. Annora’s people were mild, gentle, but never passive when provoked. Her father and elder brother, both honorable men and figures of guidance within the small town, went into courageous battle with the barbaric men that came to pillage their homeland, and fell, with almost every other able-bodied man who accompanied them.
With her mother and two younger sisters, Annora was herded into the killers' camp, and she doubted that anyone was more humiliated than herself, for she was, and perhaps always had been, the most furiously proud of her modest people. Whilst her kinsmen were simply grateful to have survived the raid, and to have been allowed to keep their lives by their captors, Annora brooded over her lost father and brother and felt utterly degraded. As a rather skilled herbalist, she’d been shepherded along with the other healing women to help nurse the wounded barbarians, and perhaps should’ve counted herself lucky. Her mother, too, had been fortunate and had only been sent to care for the young children with the other village elders. But it was the fate of her two sisters – one thirteen, the other fifteen, and both very lovely – that made any decency shown by the beastly men to be worthless. They were made to be playthings of the brutish warriors, whores. This injustice only fanned the flames of Annora’s fury and indignity ever hotter.
She refused to tend to any of the men's wounds, despite her appointed occupation, until she had been appointed an audience with the troop’s commander. And at length, and rather to her surprise, her request was granted. Perhaps only because there were few other healers and so many severely wounded warriors, some suffering from wounds that still festered from previous battles. She was clearly a competent herbalist, would take but a moment to see the men patched up, but she positively refused. They could beat her, threaten her, but the more they did, the longer their own went without proper treatment. So, at last, she was allowed to march off to the war tent that housed the captain of these men, and as two of his underlings walked beside her, she went with determination and pride. One of the warriors who attended her pulled back the flap of the tent and she stepped confidently inside.
She was a handsome young woman with dark hair, plaited over one shoulder, fierce green eyes, and a set of stubborn lips. She was on the taller end of an average woman’s height, slender, graceful, but not without generous curves. Her skin was lightly tanned from hours spent working idly in the sun and bathing in the forest creek. But a simple child of the wood though she was, there was an odd nobility about her. She looked a king’s daughter, almost haughty, and rather set apart from the others of her village.
Her penetrating gaze fell instantly upon the man before her, the leader of the cruel, primitive soldiers who had all but decimated her town, slaughtered its men and humiliated its women. Any other girl might have shuddered to be so near to such an imposing man, one who could probably break her like the feeblest of twigs between his hands, but she stood before him unfazed. Hatred seethed in her eyes and her proud jaw was stubbornly set, her teeth gritted. She wished badly to curse him with every swear she knew, to run straight up to him, beat her fists against his chest, strike him across the face, do all she could to show her passionate rage. But if she wished for any compromise, it would probably be best not to act so rashly. She did not curtsey or bow to him to show respect, but dipped her chin slightly in acknowledgement. “My name is Annora,” she began in a voice that was deep, feminine, but that did not waver with fear or intimidation. “I have come to negotiate the release of my people and our village.”
Criminal Desire
gangster x pleasure girl
master x slave
The last thing she saw was Marcus, his muscular frame lying useless on the sodden concrete. He was beaten bloody with a bullet in his head and his startlingly blue eyes stared straight at her, wide and unseeing. Then they put a cloth stinking of chloroform to her face and everything went black. When she regained consciousness, it was still Marcus’ face she saw. They had not been in love, but they had been lovers. He was “employed” by a rival family of criminals and had offered her protection in exchange for secrets. She was similarly employed as an envoy and messenger for her own ring of villains and had been since she was just a young girl. Now twenty-four, she hoped for a different life, and Marcus had promised her that. But before she could even have a taste of that life, she was found out. She and Marcus were dragged from bed and taken to an alley behind an old warehouse. She kicked and screamed and fought but it was no use. They killed Marcus and she knew she’d be next.
As the haze in her head cleared, she let her lover’s face fade from her mind and looked around. She was in an unfamiliar apartment, sitting alone in the dark upon a bed. She found her limbs stiff and immobile, and realized swiftly that she was bound; her hands were cuffed behind her back, securing her to a bedpost, and her ankles were fastened together with black plastic zip ties. Her mouth was covered over with a strip of duct tape and when she looked down at herself, she realized that she didn’t recognize her clothing. She wore a short black dress, and one of the sleeves had slipped off her shoulder to reveal the edge of a lacy black bra. Then she noticed a small note pinned there to the bra over her right breast, and along with it the key to her handcuffs. In messy, masculine handwriting, the note read, “Meet Camille Grey, our reward to you for your good service. Do with her what you like, but if she displeases you, dispose of her neatly. She is of no more use to us.”
Camille’s eyes scanned the words furiously, then she struggled fiercely to free herself. The harder she squirmed, though, the deeper her bindings cut into her skin, and every move she made seemed to make her whole body throb. She’d received a good beating before they knocked her out, and now she remembered. But from what she could tell, they’d cleaned her up good since then. She caught a glance of herself in a mirror and saw that she was all made up. The black bruise under her left eye was covered up as best it could be with concealer, and she guessed that her split lip was rouged over underneath the duct tape. Her eyes were painted heavily in black, and she wore stockings of the same color, fastened with garters high on her shapely thighs. Her feet were strapped into black stilettos and her dark hair, which had been earlier matted with blood, was clean and combed, falling in neat waves to frame her face. If she hadn’t been fastened to an unknown man’s bed, she’d have been ready for a night out at a fancy restaurant and a show. As it was, she was simply left wondering what else, in addition to having been made up like a mobster’s Barbie doll, had been done to her while she was unconscious.
Mutual Benefits
politician x journalist
older man x younger woman
Camille Auclair was not the most well-known of journalists, and was hardly even noticed at the Tribune, but she was on her way up. She was determined to be. Though currently low on the chain of the paper’s political correspondents, barely more than an intern, she was determined, with a biting edge to her writing and a bold perception when it came to what people wanted to read. She was thought by her employer to be too reckless, but she had a feeling it was about to pay off.
Standing a petite 5’2” with a slim frame and wide, hazel eyes, the twenty-four-year-old had a childlike look about her. Her lips had a natural pout to them and her features were delicate, complexion cream white. Her brown hair reached in loose waves just beneath her shoulders and was typically pinned back on one side, leaving those doe eyes unobscured. There was something behind them though, a determined fire that suggested she wasn’t as fragile as she looked.
She would do anything, anything, to be noticed. She poured over rival publications, scoured the web for anything juicy, made hourly calls to every contact she knew in the campaign offices, courts, and corporations. And there was always one lead she kept coming back to, one name. He was established, reputable, and he was climbing the ladder still. He was a man with an agenda, and she’d been wondering for months if their schemes could align for some mutual benefit.
Through a bit of flirtation with one of his staff, she discovered he was expected at some charity gala that evening. From there it only took her a couple hours to swipe a pass to the event, and that was that. She ditched work early to get herself ready, and arrived fashionably late to the ritzy hotel where the event was being held. She wore a fitted ivory dress that clung to the gentle curves of her figure, and she stood out considerably in it among the sea of black suits and black cocktail gowns. Four inch stilettos clicked along the marble floor as she walked, and one small, manicured hand held a champaign flute to her pink lips. The gold in her eyes stood out beneath the thick fringe of her lashes, accentuated by black eye liner and shimmering shadow.
She mingled modestly for the first hour of the event, and even after she’d spotted her target, she didn’t approach him right away. She wanted to be noticed first. And yet it was still thirty minutes after she’d briefly locked eyes with him the first time that she tore herself from the sea of suits to see if she could find him alone. She saw him in an instant, standing out on the terrace and almost entirely by himself. She knew she’d be presented with no better chance than this one.
As she made her way across the ballroom towards the French doors that led outside, she began to wonder exactly what she was willing to do to achieve this chance at an important story, a connection that could skyrocket her career. She knew why she’d dressed this way, knew why she’d triple checked the shade of her lipstick, spent too much money that afternoon on expensive perfume. She knew the lengths she was willing to go to, and she wasn’t the least bit bothered by it. She approached him from behind, and wondered briefly if he had a wife, children, mistresses. She knew his professional life like it was her favorite novel, knew it backwards and forwards, but his personal life wasn’t something she could recall at the moment. Perhaps it was nerves, or that fourth glass of champagne she'd just finished. But she knew nothing would make her hesitate, not now.
She stepped beside the man without looking at him, and took another sip from her fifth glass. “I wasn’t aware you had a soft spot for displaced refugees,” she murmured, her voice a slow purr as she referred to the charity benefitted by the night’s event. “Your policies, opinions, your accomplishments… I know those pretty well. But something tells me there’s plenty you keep to yourself.” Her eyes flitted up to his face and a small, knowing smile poured across her lips. She had to be careful, she thought. He was too smart to be seduced, and she couldn't appear desperate, weak. She had to let him come to her.
