Pierced reversed (MDNI 18+)
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The gym was quiet this late..Soap, Gaz, and Price had already cleared out after the brutal PT session. You were still there stripped down to your standard-issue sports bra and compression shorts, finishing up stretches. The fabric clung to your skin, thin from wear and sweat. Your nipple piercings pressed faintly against the stretchy material—two small silver bars that the bra wasn’t quite thick enough to hide completely under the gym lighting.
Ghost had lingered behind too, supposedly to “spot” you on the weights——In reality he’s been half-focused on the punching bag in the corner, his gaze constantly drifting to you.
You bent forward to grab your water bottle and the hem of your shorts dipped low. That’s when it started.
The tramp stamp came into view first.
A delicate design winding and curving across the small of your back—bold lines and gorgeous ink that the military regs would lose their collective minds over. The waistband of your shorts had slipped just enough to frame it.
Ghost’s gloved hand froze mid-wrap.
Then you straightened, turned toward him with that easy, clueless smile—the one that pulled your upper lip up just a little. The smiley piercing flashed inside your mouth, a tiny shiny horseshoe behind your teeth. You took a swig of water and your tongue piercing clicked against the bottle cap for half a second—another glint of metal.
He didn’t speak—couldn’t really.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, still smiling, completely unaware of the way his stare had gone dark behind the mask. His gaze flicked down again—because your bra had shifted. Both barbells were now visibly outlined, the little ends pressing against the damp fabric like they were deliberately trying to get his attention.
Your navel piercing caught the overhead light when you reached up to adjust your hair.. a small, jeweled bar sitting pretty in your stomach, right above the waistband of your shorts.
Simon’s brain short-circuited.
He could see the scenario in high definition without even trying: that tramp stamp under his hands while he bent you over the weight bench. The way the nipple bars would feel under his tongue if he got that bra off. How the tongue piercing would feel running up the bottom of his cock. How the smiley would flash every time you moaned. How that little navel jewel would jump when he was fully inside you...
His cock twitched hard behind his cargos. He had to shift his stance, suddenly grateful for the mask because the look on his face was anything but professional.
You straightened fully, still oblivious, and tilted your head. “You good, Lieutenant? You’re awfully quiet.”
Ghost swallowed. His voice came out lower, rougher than usual.
“…Yeah.” A beat. “Just… waiting on you to get started’.”
You grinned again—smiley piercing flashing—and turned back to your bag. The motion made the sports bra pull tight once more.
Ghost stared at the outline of those nipple bars like they’d personally insulted his self-control.
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