It's not that Arrow hasn't worn lingerie before, it's just that she's not really sure that Kye is the type to appreciate it. She's not even sure if Kye knows what lingerie is considering she walks around in nothing but boxers and is also flat as cardboard.
Or, was flat as cardboard.
Arrow isn't really sure why but Kye's newfound chest both infuriates her and comforts her in ways she'll never put voice to. Mostly, she's not sure why Kye thinks that she'd be into her new breasts, or why Kye thinks she likes those big, heavy, soft, sacks of meat. She's not sure what her expression is supposed to be though the look on Kye's face reads clearly as 'you wanna touch them right, come touch them' which though true, for some reason she can't for the life of her understand, is still infuriating. It makes her want to kiss or slap that knowing smile off Kye's stupid face. Probably slap. But she's also overcome by this overwhelming desire to fling herself into that stupid soft chest and lie there in its warmth and, heavens forbid, cry.
Anyway, none of this has any relation to her sudden desire to wear lacy bras and panties and thigh-highs with stocking garters that wouldn't look out of place in a fetish magazine. She tells herself she's really just trying to show Kye the wonders of lingerie because, gods, a chest like that at least deserves to be adorned in ridiculous amounts of lace.
11/29
Or, was flat as cardboard.
Arrow isn't really sure why but Kye's newfound chest both infuriates her and comforts her in ways she'll never put voice to. Mostly, she's not sure why Kye thinks that she'd be into her new breasts, or why Kye thinks she likes those big, heavy, soft, sacks of meat. She's not sure what her expression is supposed to be though the look on Kye's face reads clearly as 'you wanna touch them right, come touch them' which though true, for some reason she can't for the life of her understand, is still infuriating. It makes her want to kiss or slap that knowing smile off Kye's stupid face. Probably slap. But she's also overcome by this overwhelming desire to fling herself into that stupid soft chest and lie there in its warmth and, heavens forbid, cry.
Anyway, none of this has any relation to her sudden desire to wear lacy bras and panties and thigh-highs with stocking garters that wouldn't look out of place in a fetish magazine. She tells herself she's really just trying to show Kye the wonders of lingerie because, gods, a chest like that at least deserves to be adorned in ridiculous amounts of lace.