Tiny Virgins Novels & Stories

I have been the Donna of the Smith family for nine years— but only in name. I took my deceased twin sister Lily’s place, raised her daughter Emma as my own, and lived beside a husband, David, who never once looked at me with love. For nine long years, I gave everything. Emma, however, only saw me as the woman who “killed her mother,” never knowing it was Lily who stole my marriage, my identity, and the man who was supposed to be mine. She pushed me in public, screamed that I was a murderer, and even used the gun I gifted her to shoot the only thing that brought me comfort—a tiny bird I’d been nursing back to health. And David… David, the man I once loved with my whole heart, couldn’t hide the coldness in his eyes. Every time he looked at me, I could feel Lily’s shadow standing between us. So I made a decision. If this family wanted Lily so badly— then they could have her ghost. I would leave the Smith estate, the title of Donna, the child who hated me, and the man who never wanted me. But the night I packed my bags, David suddenly appeared in the doorway, blocking my path— his eyes no longer cold, but afraid. As if he had finally realized what losing me truly meant.

The next day I woke up, I am now the fiance of the Duke of Dubois Castle, or known as Lemon. “I am a demon who lives by desire and greed, you have yielded with the contract that you have exchanged with your life?” “Then what do you want?” “I want the whole of you Veta Le Blanchet, not just your blood, heart and soul, it is the whole of you.” Theroux Claude, the third prince of the kingdom. “Lady Le Blanchet, just how can you stand still this demon duke? If you ever get tired of him, you are always welcome to my palace.” Another troublesome man, my childhood friend when I was at the academy, Durand Gagnon. “I have attained this nickname not just because I follow all his Majesty’s order, but because I want to have a stronghold in the knight position so that I can support you my Lady, remember that my oath is only for you.” Then, what is my cousin thinking that he would say such things? “Sister, I have finally inherited the title of the Baron, please come back to our fief, and I will make sure to bring back the glory of our family!” As I try to relinquish the past, the more troublesome it becomes. Is clinging to the tiny bit of my life a wrong choice? And why is the temple spying on me? “Lady Le Blanchet is the only descendant of the family, you shouldn’t involve yourself farther with the Demon Duke.” “It’s done my Lady, as long as it is you, I can give everything, even if I destroy this Kingdom.” Hold on, just what on earth this demon wants from me?

Amara Wilson's life was a silent prison under her stepfather's abuse. Driven by greed and debt, he sells her into a transactional marriage with the formidable Italian Mafia boss, Emiliano Valenti. For Emiliano, cold and scarred by betrayal, Amara is a mere contractual solution—a means to an heir, with a strict expectation of obligation, not love. Amara accepts her fate, hiding the secret of her brutal past and the bruises beneath her elegant new facade. ​The silence breaks when Emiliano spots a fading handprint on her neck. This tiny mark ignites a furious, unexpected protectiveness, clashing with his ingrained cynicism. His suspicion leads him to task his right-hand man, Matteo, with an investigation into the Wilson family. Matteo uncovers a shocking web of manipulation, violence, and treachery surrounding Amara’s stolen inheritance and her father’s suspicious death. As Emiliano learns the full extent of her stepfather's cruelty, his indifference transforms into a burning need for justice and vengeance. ​Forced into shared quarters, the terrified Amara finds unexpected solace in Emiliano's demanding presence, even waking up safe in his arms. Emiliano, battling the ghosts of his past, struggles with the confusing pull he feels toward his quiet, resilient wife, determined to become the protector she desperately needs. As their opulent world clashes with Amara's dark secrets, their transactional arrangement begins to unravel. Can a marriage born of debt and fear ignite a slow, consuming love strong enough to withstand the violent path of retribution? This is a story of healing, hidden strength, and a powerful Mafia boss who finds the greatest treasure in the heart of the woman he bought.

His steel gray eyes pierced into hers, and Rose felt like he become luring her into his daJA abyss. She took worried steps backward, however she didn't understand that he cherished the chase and derived pride from looking her run.She knew she couldn't run nor conceal from him, but there has been no different choice. He without difficulty cornered her in opposition to the wall, trapping her there. considered one of his arms snaked round her tiny waist, and the other caged her among himself and the wall. "tell me what you need, Rose," he stated, his hot breath fanning her neck. The moonlight cast a shadow on him, making him appear to be the satan he was. "What I need is to tug you to hell in which humans like you belong," she seethed. He let out a raw, deep giggle that had her insides twisting."And you suspect you will go away hell after dragging me there? interesting," James chuckled. "i'll ensure you might not get out of there. i'll make certain you have got nowhere else to run however my arms. My call can be the handiest factor you can pronounce as it might be the simplest element you think about, and whilst that occurs, you will be absolutely mine, Rose," he stated sinisterly. Trapped among love and struggle, Rose need to sail through if she intends to protect the humans she loves.

“You’re nothing but a slut who crawled into my bed for money—worth less than braille to me.” Nich’s voice was flat, cold, and utterly void of emotion, every word a sharp blade straight to my heart. “N… Nich!” I clung to him from behind, desperate to believe he didn’t mean it—only for him to pry my arms away and shove me aside roughly. “You’re a whore… the most disgusting woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” The slap cracked against my cheek, hard and stinging. Alongside it, he tossed a cheque—half a million pesos—right at my feet. “Get out of my life. Don’t ever let me see your face again.” A bitter, broken laugh bubbled up my throat. I tore the cheque into tiny pieces without a second thought. Tears streamed down my face, but I forced a sharp, unyielding smile. “Fine. I’m leaving. Keep your money. You think as a big-shot CEO you can buy anything you want? You’re wrong. My dignity isn’t for sale—not to a fool, and certainly not to a man as blind and stupid as you.” “From this moment on… we never knew each other.” Every beat of my heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. I once hoped there was goodness even among the wealthy—but I was wrong. Today I learned the cruel truth: for people like him, money is the only law, and wealth is the only justice that matters.

My fiancé had a thing for girls who were tiny, pale, and fragile-looking. A month before our wedding, he demanded that I slim down to 80 pounds. So, I starved myself, counted every calorie, and spent my days at the gym. Alas, the harder I tried to lose weight, the heavier I got. … Meanwhile, the girl I'd been supporting stuffed herself with burgers, milkshakes, and late-night takeout every day. Yet, she kept getting thinner. On our wedding day, my fiancé became disgusted the second he laid eyes on me and promptly decided that I was too fat to be his bride. Then, he dumped me and replaced me with the scholarship girl right there at the altar. Not long after, the rapid weight gain wrecked my health. One complication led to another. As I lay on my deathbed, she finally came to gloat. "You idiot," she cooed at me mockingly. "I linked you to a weight-swap system. It doesn't matter how hard you diet because the weight loss always goes to me." Then, everything went black. … When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the time before the wedding. As my eyes focused, I saw the same girl standing in front of me, nagging me to lose weight. I smiled, but scoffed internally. 'If you want to be skinny that badly, fine. However, I'll make sure you end up weighing five pounds this time around, ashes and all.'

My roommate was obsessed with those cheesy “milk-scented girl” romance stories. She wanted to become the kind of heroine from those books. Tiny, soft, and delicate, the type who was supposedly so sweet that even her farts smelled like milk. So she went completely overboard. She lived on dairy. Drank milk nonstop. Even took milk baths. She tried everything, all because she was convinced she’d eventually run into her destined male lead. I believed in letting people make their own choices. What I didn’t expect was for her to go after my boyfriend, the guy I’d basically grown up with. One day, she sent him a carefully posed thirst trap. He replied with one word. “Get lost.” Then she proudly showed me the screenshot, like she’d won something. “Only girls like me, soft and sweet and irresistible, deserve a powerful man’s obsessive love.” “Don’t be fooled by how cold he is now. He’ll be crazy about me soon enough. He’ll want me all to himself.” I was just about to tear into her when a row of floating comments suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. “Fresh one, guys. This host is bold. Coming in with a thirst trap right away? Nice.” “Wait, what? Isn’t this just harassment? The male lead already has a girlfriend.” “Bro, I think you’re in the wrong livestream.”

HIGHLY RATED(18+) Author's warnings: THIS BOOK MAY CONTAIN HIGHLY SEXUAL CONTENT, ABUSE, ILLEGAL ACTIONS AND DEATH. IF YOU CANT WITHSTAND ANY OF THIS MENTIONED ABOVE, KINDLY PASS BECAUSE IT'S NOT FOR SOFT-HEARTED. ------------------------------ "I own this hotel, so don't ask. But I did enjoy your moan last night, and you will be rewarded for putting up with my brother that night." Leonardo stated, placing one hand on the wall and leaning down to her eye level. "What do you want from me?" Isabella's voice quivered with fear as she inquired. "Isn't it obvious Isabella?" he asked before continuing. "Your pussy plumpkin," he stated confidently. "What more can I request, if not for those wet, silky partings right between your thighs?" He smirked, sending a chill down her spine. He leans close to her face, just an inch away. “Can you be able to give that to me, plumpkin?" He asked cockily, staring at her with hunger, as if he yearned for her intensely. Of course, his whole body system was burning for her, but despite his overwhelming desire, he restrained himself, maintaining boundaries cause he wouldn’t want to forcefully take advantage of her. He aimed to make her crave him and beg to have him, and once he had her beneath him, with his cock thrusting deep into her sweet, tiny little hole, he would make sure to dominate her completely, breaking her and leaving her shattered at his will.

Seven years ago, my mafia husband, Sergio Wexler, had me committed to a psychiatric ward. On the day I was released, I changed my name, cut my hair short, and vanished like a ghost. Seven years later, we meet again at the grave of my brother, Luca Lorusso. The bouquet in his hand falls with a soft thud. Sergio clenches his fists tightly, barely holding back emotions that threaten to break through his usual calm. "Janella, why the short hair? I almost didn't recognize you. Where have you been all these years? After that fire at the psych ward, I pulled every string I had, but I never got any leads on you. I've been looking for you for seven years. I even thought you were… dead." When I stay silent, he rubs his red-rimmed eyes. "You're avoiding me, aren't you? Do you still hate me for having you locked up? Believe me, I had no choice." I let out a bitter laugh. Sergio killed Luca to become the Don. He slept with Luca's woman and locked me in that dark, windowless "special ward", nearly erasing me from existence. And now, here he is at Luca's grave, playing the victim. To me, any love and hate I had for Sergio died long ago in that tiny, suffocating ward. Now, he's just a stranger to me.

"Hi there, I'd like to emigrate." Christina stood at the counter and handed over the neatly prepared documents to the clerk on the other side of the glass. The clerk quickly stamped each page. The red ink spread like tiny ripples on still water. Then, without looking up, he pulled out another form and passed it back to her. "Ma'am, your paperwork will be processed in fifteen days." Christina nodded, turned on her heel, and headed for the exit. But before she could step outside, whispers trailed after her. "Did I see that right? Mrs. Waldorf is applying for emigration? Did she have a squabble with Mr. Waldorf?" "Even if they argued, would it go this far? Mr. Waldorf practically worships her. What could possibly make her leave so decisively?" "Exactly. Five years ago, their wedding was the event of the century. Even someone like me, who barely goes online, heard about it. And three years ago, after her car accident, the blood bank ran out of stock. Mr. Waldorf ignored everyone's objections and nearly drained himself to save her. Then, just last year, when she disappeared for an hour, he mobilized every media outlet worldwide to find her. Now she's leaving without a word—won't that drive him insane?" The murmurs swirled and lingered, but Christina only smiled faintly. Her expression was calm, but her eyes darkened with a bitterness that deepened with every step. Yes, she thought. Everyone knew just how much Lucien Waldorf loved her.