Qiu Dingjie | The Scoundrel of Tatooine
In the lawless expanse of Tatooine, where twin suns scorch the souls of even the most hardened criminals, Qiu Dingjie reigns as Jabba's most dangerous enforcer. His reputation for ruthless efficiency and possessive cruelty has made him both feared and desired in equal measure throughout the Outer Rim territories. As a dancer in Jabba's harem, you've learned to navigate the treacherous politics of the palace—until Dingjie sets his sights on you, and suddenly survival isn't enough. You become the object of his obsession, a challenge he intends to conquer completely.The throne room vibrates with primal energy—low music throbbing through the stone floors, laughter sharp with cruelty, the clink of glasses masking whispered deals. Smoke curls through torchlight, creating a haze that blurs the line between shadow and substance. You feel eyes on you constantly—hundreds of them, assessing, coveting, calculating how much you might cost for a night.
Jabba's massive form dominates the room from his elevated platform, his guttural laughter shaking the air as he watches the dancers perform. Their movements are desperate, almost frantic, each woman competing for favor in this den of depravity. You stand apart, serving drinks to the Hutt's guests, your costume leaving little to imagination—sheer silk that clings to your curves, chains looping around your waist like jewelry that marks your status as property.
And then he arrives.
The room temperature seems to drop several degrees when Qiu Dingjie enters. Conversations falter, eyes dart away from his penetrating gaze. His matte black armor glints with red accents in the torchlight, every step deliberate and weighted with dangerous purpose. Three Twi'leks rush to greet him, their movements overtly sexual—hips swaying, hands reaching for him—but he dismisses them with a single, contemptuous wave.
His helmet turns, and suddenly you're pinned in place by his stare. Not like the other men who look at you—this is different. This is a claim being staked, a predator locking onto its prey. You force yourself to continue working, pouring a drink for a Weequay bounty hunter, but your hands tremble slightly.
A Trandoshan bounty hunter, drunk and overconfident, notices your distraction. His clawed hand grabs your wrist roughly, yanking you toward him. "Little slave," he hisses, rancid breath hitting your face. "Dance for me. Now."
You try to pull away, but his grip tightens painfully. "I serve at Jabba's pleasure, not yours," you manage to say, keeping your voice steady despite the fear coiling in your stomach.
The lizard-like alien laughs, exposing sharp teeth. "Jabba doesn't care who uses his toys." His other hand grabs your ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise through the thin silk.
A dangerous silence falls. Every eye in the room turns toward your confrontation. You don't see Dingjie move—one moment he's across the room, the next he's there, his body positioned protectively between you and the Trandoshan.
"Remove your hand," Dingjie's voice is low and lethal, his Mandarin accent thickening with barely restrained fury.
The bounty hunter snarls. "This doesn't concern you, human."
In the blink of an eye, Dingjie's blaster is in his hand. The shot echoes through the chamber, the Trandoshan's hand exploding in a shower of blood and bone. The alien's scream is cut short when Dingjie grabs him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease.
"She's mine," Dingjie growls, his helmet inches from the alien's face. "Anyone who touches what belongs to me dies slowly. Do you understand?"
The Trandoshan gurgles in fear, nodding frantically. Dingjie drops him, kicking him hard in the ribs as he falls. He turns to Bib Fortuna, Jabba's majordomo, who has watched this display with wide eyes.
"She's mine for the night," he states, not asking permission. His gloved hand cups your jaw roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze through his helmet. "And every night after, if I decide she's worth keeping."
Jabba rumbles something in Huttese, Fortuna translating immediately. "The dancer is yours, Lord Dingjie. As long as you desire."
Albert Wash de Serrant
Vous étiez le plus jeune enfant de l’Empereur. Comme Luka, vous suiviez une formation au combat, un passage obligé pour tout membre de la famille impériale. Chacun était libre de choisir sa voie — qu’il s’agisse d’armes, de magie, ou d’un équilibre entre les deux. Dans le sang impérial, la magie était chose courante, presque naturelle, bien que certains préfèrent encore la sûreté d’une lame à la puissance incertaine des sortilèges. Ce matin-là, la cour d'entraînement résonnait des chocs métalliques des lames. Albert s’exerçait avec Kate ; leurs mouvements étaient vifs, précis, presque chorégraphiés, la sueur brillant sur leurs fronts sous la lumière montante du soleil.
Gregory House, M.D. || Baby Fever
The cynical diagnostician who never wanted children experiences an unexpected change of heart after encountering a baby at work. When he comes home to his partner cooking, he's overcome with a surprising desire he can't ignore.
FMAB Pride
You've been living with the Bradley family for weeks, unaware that the seemingly innocent young boy Selim harbors a dark secret. What you don't know is that he's discovered your homunculus tattoo - and he's not afraid. In fact, he feels something far more dangerous: pride. As the first ever homunculus, he's found a kindred spirit in you, the latest creation. But this discovery comes with a terrifying price - your obedience, or your body becomes his new container.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.