Problem Solved Bloody T-shirt Novels & Stories

I should have been by her side being her support, not another problem. While I try to focus on anything but the throbbing in my dick and my aching blue balls, I take a better look at her. Fucking hell, Vitali wasn’t wrong. Her shirt is soaked with blood, though it looks mostly dry, and her gorgeous skin is covered in blood and dirt. Safe to say she’s had a rough fucking day.

She clicks her tongue and crosses her arms. "What the hell did you do now, Blanche?!" Alexis stormed and pulled the front-neck drop of Blanche's shirt. Blanche's eyes were emotionless right at this moment which made Alexis' grip loosen. "Blanche," Alexis sigh and release Blanche's shirt. "Your shirt's covered in blood." As if bringing her back to the snap of reality, Blanche looked down at her shirt and saw that it was covered with Aerith's blood. "I..."

"Are you a Badblood too, huh? What can you do?" Serra almost caught out of breath. She was kicking and clawing the Badblood. Her head seemed to blow up. Renaaaaaaaaa Then suddenly, Rena appeared behind the Badblood and slit his throat. Blood sprayed to Serra's face and they both fell down to the ground. Serra was coughing and gasping for air while the Badblood was gagging and holding her bleeding neck. Blood continuously poured out between his fingers until his last breath. Rena quickly came beside Serra and helped her to her feet.

If there was one thing he dislikes, was having to pretend like everything was better, however, the kind of person I am, it wouldn’t bother me one bit. “ What is wrong?”. I dragged my chair closer.. “Bro, can I have some cash?”. He asked me. “ Cash! How do you mean?”. I asked him again. “ I have money problems”. He face changed.. “ Money problems? I don’t understand…. Have you started gambling?” I asked, and he replied and said. “ No!! I have money problems, and you‘re the only one that can help me?”. “ Really, how much” I asked him.

I nod, too exhausted to argue. My T-shirt clings to my skin, dotted with specks of dried blood—none of it mine, thankfully. Anthony's shirt tells a different story, the fabric saturated with deep crimson stains along his left side. "You need to change," I say, gesturing to the gruesome evidence of the days' violence. "Here." I pull open the backpack and bring out two fresh items of clothing. I hand him his, and suddenly feel shy, realizing that I need to take my current shirt off.

A strap tied his thick curls back, and he had secured an ancient-looking blade to his back. He was lethal. And as she watched his claws sink into the flesh of Alpha Kai's neck, she had never been more grateful. "She. Is. Mine." Evander snarled, his eyes shining yellow. A tarp now covered the shattered windows of the office, and someone had cleaned up most of the evidence of yesterday's saga. But as a fresh crack in the plaster appeared under Alpha Kai's body, a wave of guilt passed over Sapphira, and as Alpha Kai started to make a gurgling sound, her fingers found Evander's arm.

When she walked in to the loving area, the first thing her mind registered was the pungent scent of rusted metal—no—blood. There he was in the middle of it. He was unbuttoning his stained dress shirt with a cold but calm demeanor. His expression was blank and he looked like a demon ascended straight from hell. His black leather shoes were sole deep in the pool of blood that that at his feet. Rain stopped in her tracks and a scream lodged in her throat. Alexander took the shirt off and handed it over to Enzo who stood right next to him. Enzo’s expression mirrored Alexander’s . They both peered down at the scene in front of them, one Rain knew Alexander had created.

No more excuses. And if I'm going to be a better, stronger person, I can start by sucking it up and dealing with these T-shirts already. Even if every time I see that stupid embroidered "Huntington Manor" logo I feel like I'm being stabbed in the gut. I get to work, making my way through an entire pile of hot pink shirts and half a pile of the electric purple ones before I find my gaze drifting back over to Ward.

Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and his voice was hoarse to the bone. Tommy didn't dare to be late for a second, he quickly stepped forward to take off his shirt to help Derek. But as soon as he took off Derek's shirt, Tommy was shocked by the blood stains on his white shirt. “Why are you injured like this?” The silk cloth had stuck to the wound to a large extent, and the blood had gradually dried. Tommy's hands were shaking, after two tries he couldn't completely remove Derek's shirt. Bleeding wounds can be seen even from the outside.

The kind of scent that made your nose crinkle before your brain even figured out why. I shook it off and got to work. The first piece I pulled out was my leggings—there was a faded stain on the waistband, but nothing too crazy. I could work with that. Maybe some boiling hot water, a little detergent, some serious denial? Yeah, they might make it. “Okay, you live,” I mumbled, tossing them into a separate pile. The survivors. Next came a t-shirt. White, ironically. With a very not-so-white splotch smack in the middle of the chest. It looked like someone sneezed on it and tried to cover it up with glitter glue. Absolutely not.