The Black Parade Story Novels & Stories

I was the Peacock Princess. On the day I came of age, suitors from every corner of the clan gathered, all eager to win my hand. I chose Silvan, the noble Green Peacock, believing him to be the finest of them all. But after our marriage, I gave birth to a third-tier White Peacock. When Silvan saw the child, his face twisted with fury. He snatched the baby from my arms, killing it in one brutal motion. In his rage, he attacked me, ripping me apart from neck to feather, and tossed my remains to the wild beasts for their feast. Meanwhile, my elder sister, who married a second-tier Blue Peacock, gave birth to a rare and magnificent Purple Peacock. Her husband was crowned the new King of All Birds because of their child. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I had first chosen Silvan. This time, he publicly rejected me, turning to my sister instead, convinced that marrying her would bring him the coveted Purple Peacock. I knew then that he had also been reborn. He believed he could change his fate and father a Purple Peacock with her. But in this lifetime, he wouldn't even be able to produce the humblest Black Peacock.

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

I have just secured a massive ten-million-dollar deal during the Black Friday Sales. I have endured several days of hectic work, yet I still find myself unable to turn down my girlfriend, Charlotte Ward. We spend the night in passionate abandon and finally fall into a heavy, restful sleep. The next morning, a loud thud jolts me awake. When I open my eyes, I realize that it's my luggage. Charlotte suddenly says, "This is the end for us, Robert. It's time for you to move out. I've already wired the money for your past services, along with your salary. So get going." I find myself caught in a daze and about to move to question her, but she stops me dead, jabbing her fingers into my chest. "Know your place, Robert. You're nothing but a gigolo to me. I might, maybe, let you keep your job in Ward Group if you beg." I almost reach out to grab her wrist but stop myself. Instead, I smile broadly and say, "You've got it all wrong. Your company wouldn't survive without me, Charlotte."

On the day of our engagement, my boyfriend, Henley Chatham, handed his assistant, Kiara Dalby, an unlimited black card—then set me up with a shared wallet. Daily limit: twenty bucks. I laughed. Cold. Said no. He called me materialistic—then spun around and made some grand confession to Kiara. So I ended it. Right there. Then I signed with a classified agency. Five years later, Kiara and I crossed paths at a car wash. I was in line when she whipped her car in and cut me off. I couldn't dodge. Metal slammed—my whole front end wrecked. She rolled her window down. "Hey, you in the back—blind or what? Can't you see my car?" I let out a short laugh. "You cut me off. Then you crash into me. And somehow that's my fault?" Kiara sneered, same attitude, just louder. "I cut in line? Please. Every inch of Hawthorne Bay belongs to the Chatham family. Ever heard of Chatham Corp? My boss could shake this whole town with one move." I actually laughed this time. Pulled out my phone. Dialed. "Ex-boyfriend, I hear Hawthorne Bay answers to you now?"

Once you taste it, you’ll never be the same. Carnal Cravings is a collection of sizzling, addictive stories where desire reigns supreme and temptation lurks in the shadows. From forbidden encounters that defy morality to slow-burning seductions that ignite into uncontrollable flames, each tale explores the raw, unfiltered side of love, lust, and longing. Step into worlds where innocence is shattered, trust is tested, and pleasure is the ultimate sin. Every page drips with tension, every encounter pushes limits and every story leaves you craving more. Perfect for fans of dark romance, BDSM, MM, GG, BBC, voyeurism, orgies, taboo love, age gap... Every page drips with heat, every story tempts you to read just one more chapter— until you’re breathless, wanting, and undone.

I was a top-tier heart surgeon. The kind they gave a government-issued black SUV with diplomatic plates—armored, red-light-skipping, cleared-for-anything kind of ride. I parked it at my fiancé Marco Varonetti's place so he could keep it in shape. Bad call. One day, I got an emergency call: heart transplant for the Chancellor—yeah, that Chancellor, the one with state secrets ticking inside him. I rushed over to Marco's to grab the car. Right as I was about to leave, some rando slid into the back seat like she owned it. "Mall first. I need a mani," she barked. "Then get the ice cream Marco ordered. If it melts, I'll kill you." Excuse me? "This is my car," I said, trying to stay chill. "I've got a critical airport run. You need to get out." She rolled her eyes. "You're just the driver. Open those eyes and check the plate." Then the maid chimed in. "Everyone knows Mr. Varonetti takes Ms. Caro out in this car. Nobody says a word." I froze. Marco used my federally issued SUV... to chauffeur her? This wasn't just messy. This was criminal.

On the day my internship officially turned into a full-time job, I used the black card my dad gave me to buy a bicycle. The moment Karen Kosner—the office's self-appointed queen of frugality—found out, her face went dark. "Two hundred thousand on a crappy bike? You're not afraid karma's gonna strike you dead for throwing money away like that?" The veins in her forehead bulged, her expression twisted with rage. "What's the point of this useless thing? You can't eat it. A bus pass would've made way more sense. My brother's out there busting his hump for every hard-earned dollar, and you're spending like water. Keep this up, you'll make him jump off a roof." My face dropped. I rubbed the sore spot on my forehead where she'd jabbed me. "Are you out of your mind? I'm spending my own family's money. What the hell does that have to do with your brother or your family?" Karen kept muttering under her breath, but I wasn't about to stand there listening to her crap. I turned and went to get some water. When I came back, the black card in my bag was gone. She leaned toward me, still playing the part of the vicious future sister-in-law. "Who knows which random guy gave you that card. Trashy. I threw it away, so get real and live right with my brother. "From now on, every penny you spend has to go through me. You buy something only if I say yes. I need to break you of this reckless spending habit." My temples throbbed with anger. Fine. So she thought she was some kind of financial genius, did she? We'd settle this nice and slow—once she lost her job and got blacklisted by the entire industry.

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."

After returning home from a flight, I realize that my bottle of hair conditioner has run out in the bathroom. The thing is, my husband, Carlos Zappa, doesn't use hair conditioner at all. Seeing Carlos through the frosted glass, I decide to probe him for answers. "Did any guests stay over lately? Or have you started doing hair care?" Carlos flips through the documents, which are stamped with the Zappa family crest, impatiently at my questions. "Maybe a maid accidentally toppled the bottle over when she was cleaning the bathroom. Also, why are you annoying me with such minuscule matters?" When I put on the bathrobe, I feel a ticklish sensation coming from the collar. As soon as I look down, I notice a strand of dried yellow hair being entangled in the collar. The moment the steam dissipates, I see two pairs of intertwining handprints on the bathroom's glass door. I never thought that my home would grow this popular during my one-week trip away from home. I've been married to Carlos for three years, and yet this is my first time finding out that he's actually this wild in bed. So, I secretly text my father, the Don of the Carozza family. "Dad, Carlos has cheated on me. Does the bet we made three years ago still count?"

I was raised in another country since I was a kid. Mom is worried that I might find her a wife who's of foreign descent, so she quickly finds me a beautiful and talented fiancee based in Bellevue and tells me to return to the country just to proceed with the engagement. So, I head over to a fancy boutique to pick out my suit for the engagement banquet. That's when I notice a black suit with dark patterns woven into the material, which I quite like. But when I'm about to try on that suit, the man next to me glances at it before telling the sales assistant, "This suit is pretty stylish. I'd like to try it on." The sales assistant rips the suit from my hands immediately. I retort angrily, "Hey! Ever heard of 'first come, first served'? I have my eyes on this suit first! You're being unreasonable right now!" But the man just looks at me in disdain. "This suit is worth 188 thousand dollars! You really think a broke guy like you can afford this? "I'll have you know that I'm very close to Yvonne Gardner, the CEO of Gardner Group. She dotes on me as if I were her brother. The Gardners are the ones ruling over Bellevue, you know!" What a coincidence! Isn't this Yvonne woman my fiancee? I call her on the spot. "Hey, your so-called brother has stolen the suit I plan on wearing to our engagement banquet. How do you think we should resolve this situation, hmm?"