Which Angsty Fanfics Align With Clean Bandit Rather Be Lyrics' Emotional Depth?

FVck!!!!!! Just outside, guests were taking their seats. My husband to be Jack was probably waiting at the altar. And here I was, bent over in my wedding dress, letting my stepfather ruin my pussy minutes before saying “I do.” Victor spanked my ass hard, the sound echoing. “Tell me who this p*ssy belongs to.” “You, Stepdaddy! It has always been yours!” I cried. He thrust harder, hips slamming against my ass. I shattered, biting my lip to keep from screaming as my p*ssy clenched and gushed around his thick c*ck. Fuvk!!!!! I screamed It was all my fault…. I got wet, now I’m getting ruined on my wedding day. *** Warning. Strictly 18+ Skip! Skip! Skip! Because this is *Wet and Ruined*, a scorching collection of forbidden short stories…. Stepfamily taboo…. This is pure fiction and should not be practiced… Lusting over the one person you should never desire—and The intoxicating pull of forbidden taboo, guilt mixed with overwhelming pleasure, and the addictive thrill of crossing lines that can never be uncrossed is what you will find here.

A collection of passionate encounters, forbidden attractions, and complicated relationships. From former lovers reunited by fate to rivals caught in unexpected temptation, each story explores desire, emotion, and the choices that change lives forever.

From as far back as I can remember, I knew my mom hated me. She gives me sleeping pills when I'm three. When I'm five, she tries pesticide instead. But I'm hard to get rid of. By the time I'm seven, I've already learned how to fight back. If she refuses to give me food, I flip the table so no one can eat either. If she beats me up until I'm on the ground, writhing in pain, I go after her beloved son the same way, leaving him bruised and bawling. That's how we stay locked in battle until I turn 12. Everything changes when my youngest sister is born. I'm clumsily trying to help with her wet diaper when Mom suddenly shoves me against the wall. The look in her eyes holds both disgust and fear. "What were you trying to do to my daughter? I knew it. You take after that monster of a father. Why didn't you just die with him?" I hold my aching head. For the first time, I don't fight back. I believe she's right. My existence is a mistake. I should never have been alive.

I’d been in love with Cassian Cross—my brother’s best friend, the one and only mafia boss in the NYC—for as long as I could remember. On the night of my twentieth birthday, my brother promised me a surprise. I didn’t expect that surprise to be a very drunk, very kissable Cassian. One reckless night. One baby boy. Cassian agreed to marry me after giving birth. But the day I gave birth to Leo, Cassian said nothing. He just packed up and vanished to France for nearly five years. Then he returned with Alessia. His first love. And when she saw Leo and me, she ran away and disappeared. After that, Cassian never left my side. Like he was trying to be the man I needed all along, that we were finally going to have our chance. But fairytales are lies wrapped in pretty paper. On Leo’s sixth birthday, we were driving to dinner. The brakes failed. The car spun onto the highway, flames licking at the engine. Cassian got out. And then he locked the door. “If it weren’t for you, Alessia would still be by my side. Now? It’s your turn to suffer.” It wasn’t until that moment I understood—Cassian had never loved me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my twenties birthday. Cassian was in my bed, exactly where I’d left him in the past. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I ran. And on my way out, I made the call I should’ve made the first time. To Alessia.

He was a bad boy swimmer while she was an innocent aspiring chef. She broke his heart and he was left wondering why. She was his world and life - his everything. She successfully changed him to become better, but when they were already doing well, she suddenly betrayed him. Worse, it was with a friend he knew too well. But no matter the reason, he will never accept it. He would rather die than completely break free from her. Feeling betrayed and broken, the famous bad boy emerged once more, deciding to claim his possession back. She has been his and forever she shall be. The bad boy's heart is broken and only she can mend it.

His songs were better when he had a broken heart. That sentence would change my life after my dream job was dished to me on a shiny, silver platter. All I had to do? Hurt Nash Pierce enough to get him writing good music again. The pop icon’s songs were no longer the phenomena they used to be. His team needed another breakthrough album—like the first he’d penned, using his heartbreak as fuel. The plan was simple: I’d go on tour with him as a backup dancer…and make him fall in love with me. I was hired to inspire—to become embedded into every lyric he wrote. Then, I was to set fire to it all—to destroy every feeling we hoped he’d develop for me. It seemed simple enough. Easy, even. I didn’t expect to be consumed myself—to see so much in the man displayed in the tabloids. I didn’t foresee falling for him. It didn’t occur to me that, while attempting to break his heart, I might just shatter my own. Most of all, I never thought I’d fight so hard to hold on to a relationship that had always been founded on goodbye.