BORN SINNER, WAS NEVER BORN TO BE PERFECT.

𝐕𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 • (𝐯𝐢𝐧•𝐝𝐢𝐤•𝐭𝐢𝐯) 𝐚𝐝𝐣 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 ~𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 #𝟑 #𝟏 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐉𝐀𝐍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦

"𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐀𝐈𝐋, 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀 𝐅𝐀 𝐌𝐄?" Started : 6/3/25 Published:12/6/25

" who is that, with the red hair? " - onyankopon ୨ৎ・・・・・・୨ৎ・・・・୨ৎ・・・・・・୨ৎ ˚ ༘ ☀️ ⋆ in which onyankopon finds himself getting closer with the new transfer . . . onyankopon && infiniti owusu (oc) est. 03.23.2025 S1 fin. 12.12.2025 S2 fin. 00.00.0000

Majesty thought getting pregnant was the scariest shit that could happen to her. It wasn't. Not when everybody got someone they'll die for.

this is a studxfem story, this content will indicate in explicit details of sorts of activities, fights, clubs, shootouts & more If you don't like it don't read it simple || My names delainy & I'm a beginner wattpad story creator. ᥫ᭡.

wlw oneshots. Mostly sxs.

Before the crowds screamed his name, before the league talks and the magazine covers, he met her. Calista Marchand. Not the kind of girl you run game on. She was sharp where it counted, soft only when she wanted to be. Real Brooklyn - pretty in the face, slick with the mouth, and solid with her hands if you stepped wrong. She kept her circle small, her loyalty tighter. The kind of woman who knew how to turn silence into safety and side-eyes into shut-ups. Men feared her. Girls tried to be her. She didn't chase, didn't fold, didn't need nobody. Until Ibrahim Montaigne walked into her life like he had all the time in the world. He didn't come with sweet nothings or flashy promises - just steady presence. Intent in his eyes, patience in his chest, and something rare behind the way he looked at her. Like he saw through the polish and the fire, like he knew the woman behind the defense. He didn't try to tame her. He studied her. Let her be exactly who she was. The shift was slow. She still fought when needed, still had a rep in the streets and in the salon chair. But somewhere between nursing exams and late-night block parties, she started saving parts of herself just for him. The quiet parts. The delicate ones. The ones nobody else got close to. And when she crossed that graduation stage, RN-BSN stitched behind her name and her grandmother crying in the crowd - he bragged harder than anyone. Didn't care who was listening. Forget MVP, forget the championship rings. She was the win. She was the headline. The girl from Brooklyn with spitfire in her lungs, gold in her smile, and a softness only he ever got to see. This isn't a story about being chosen. It's about choosing each other. No fairytales. Just Brooklyn grit and a love that never let go.