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ohbo-ohno · 3 days

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Kinktober Day 11 - Gags

Ghost x Soap - 4.3k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost has a unique way to get the mouthy new prospect to learn when to shut up. Johnny is more into it than he probably should be. (Soap POV)

cw: dom!ghost, sub!soap, undernegotiated kink, muzzles, johnny doesn't technically consent but he is into everything happening here, consensual oral sex

note: this doesn't feature gags very heavily tbh, but they are technically there so i'm counting it! also it's very unedited, leave me alone

Johnny scowls, poking the thing on the table in front of him with one finger like it’ll jump out and bite him. “The hell is this?”

Ghost crosses his arms over his chest, the worn mask covering any reaction Johnny might be able to parse. He’s hardly a foot from Johnny, staying at his side instead of keeping the card table between them. “You gone dumb?”

Johnny scowls, kicking back in his seat and balancing the metal chair on two legs, one foot planted on the ground and the other over his knee. “Och, ye ken I’m sharp. Dinnae ken what you want me to do with tha’, though. Ye’ve really got to learn to use yer words, Ghostie. Not sure how anyone ‘round here ever–”

Johnny doesn’t finish his sentence, the air knocked out of him as his chair is knocked off balance and he falls flat on his ass. He oofs when he hits the ground, blinking dumbly up at the man above him.

Ghost hooks his foot around the leg of the chair he’d just kicked over, shoving it back up and away from Johnny. “Sit properly, you damn brat.”

Johnny rubs his head a bit, sitting up and scowling. “Ye always been this much of an arsehole?”

He gets the distinct sense that Ghost is cocking an eyebrow, even if he can’t see it. “Yes. Now sit in the chair like a goddamn adult.”

Johnny obeys silently, mentally licking his wounds and giving Ghost a pointed glare as he sets both of his feet firmly on the ground, all four chair legs steady.

“Good,” Ghost grunts, a pathetic excuse for praise that still has Johnny sitting a little straighter in the chair. “Now put the muzzle on or I’ll do it for you.”

Johnny’s eyes widen a fraction as they dart between the black lump sitting on the table in front of him and the biker now stepping close enough to touch. “Oh, no…” he says, nudging at the thing again with a knuckle until it lays a little flatter, the shape of it obvious now. “Ye’ve got to be kiddin’ me.”

Ghost is dead silent, tapping his fingers on one bicep as he stares down at Johnny.

“Ye want to fuckin’ muzzle me?” Johnny growls, lip curling. “Like a dog?”

Ghost’s head cocks to the side, eyelids low. “You clearly can’t keep your mouth shut. You know how much we had to pay off Keller to keep him from calling the pigs after that brawl you started?”

Johnny can’t stop his lips from curling up at the memory of that night – it’s not often a man gets the chance to see bottles and fists flying like that, and the vicious reaming he’d gotten from Price had been more than worth it.

“Nothin’ for you to be smirkin’ about,” Ghost growls, planting one big hand on the table and leaning even closer. “You keep gettin’ yourself in trouble, just trusting we’ll be there to pull you out. You ain’t even a brother yet – no patch, no cut. You’re lucky we don’t string you up for the other prospects to use as a punching bag with the way you act.”

Johnny scowls, hackles raising. “I do more work than any of the other prospects combined. Ye tellin’ me the boys can’t handle some trouble every now and then?”

“It ain’t every now and then, and it doesn’t matter what we can handle,” Ghost says, leaning close enough that his nose is just inches away from Johnny’s. “You’re a prospect. Your job is to do the dirty work so the brothers don’t have to and to keep your head down. You,” he jabs a finger in Johnny’s face, tone deepening. “Are pissin’ people off.”

Ghost stands back up, grabbing the muzzle from the table and straightening out the two thick leather straps. “So I’m gonna set you straight. You’ll wear this until I figure you can be trusted with your mouth again.”

“Hold on–” Johnny starts, pushing himself up from the chair with flaming cheeks and an actively bruising ego. He doesn’t get a chance to finish his complaint, Ghost using one hand to force him back into his chair and the other to smack the muzzle over Johnny’s mouth.

“Mmph!” Johnny grunts, clawing at Ghost’s hands and trying to yank the leather off his face. Ghost shifts so his hand holds his jaw closed, but Johnny can already feel that the material is stiff enough around his underchin that he wouldn’t be able to talk even without the palm over his mouth. Something hard presses against his lips, and he seals them shut as best he can.

“Always fuckin’ bitching,” Ghost complains, his free hand shoving Johnny forward by the back of his head, moving behind his body and using his weight to hold Johnny’s chest flat to the table, arm laid heavily over his shoulder blades. “You just never shut up, do you?”

Johnny tries to shout, writhing as best he can under Ghost as he feels the straps being tightened around his head. One wraps around the back of his neck, connected to the bottom corners of the muzzle, while the other laces above his ears and around his skull, keeping the mask tight to his face.

There’s something flat and hard in the bottom of it, pressing his jaw closed and keeping him from opening his mouth when the muzzle is fully tightened. With the way he’s being pushed into the muzzle as Ghost ties it, the hard plastic against his lips forces them open so it can rest between his teeth, just thick enough to keep his mouth open around it but soft enough that he can chew on it.

Ghost grunts as he pushes back off Johnny, hand planted at the base of his skull to hold him down. Johnny’s eyes fly wide in panic as he hears the soft sound of something metal clinking over his shoulder, two little cold spots coming to rest just beneath the straps.

“There,” Ghost grunts, his weight disappearing suddenly and letting Johnny up. He rockets away from the table as quickly as he can, hands flying to the mask and fumbling with it.

It’s made of good, thick leather, with something to hold the shape of a muzzle in the material and a few holes poked in front of his mouth and nose so he doesn’t suffocate despite the plastic in his mouth. The straps are thick, the metal buckles digging into the shaved sides of his head, and when he reaches back to try and undo them he feels small, metal squares hanging off each one.

A soft jingling sound yanks Johnny’s attention back over to Ghost, his heart in his throat. Ghost is tugging a necklace away from his chest, thumb holding it out far enough that Johnny can clearly see the little silver key dangling from the chain.

He tries to worm his fingers beneath the straps, then tries the edges of the muzzle. Neither work. He pushes his tongue against the thing between his teeth, but it doesn’t move even an inch.

“You’ll stay locked in that until Price or I decide you’ve earned another chance,” Ghost says, tucking the key back beneath his shirt. “If you fuck this up, you’re done. No more prospecting.”

That makes Johnny panic almost more than the muzzle, the thought of losing even the chance of a new family almost too much to bear.

Ghost barrels ahead, unbothered by the way Johnny’s chest heaves as he scratches at the leather. “You want to eat, you come find me. You want to drink, you come find me. We’ll get you taken care of. But you try and get anyone to take that off for you, and you’re never steppin’ foot back in the clubhouse. Understood?”

Johnny nods slowly, adrenaline begining to fade as the reality of his new position settles in. He forces his breathing to calm a bit, letting himself consider just how restricting the muzzle really is.

Ghost’s mask is as still and impassive as ever, but there’s the slightest hint of approval in his tone. “Good. Now get outta here, I got shit to do.”

Johnny’s not proud of how quickly he leaves, but his focus on getting to his room so he can hide just barely drowns out the harsh laugh coming from behind him.

Johnny doesn’t leave his room at all the next day. Hungry as he is, his ego hurts more than his stomach and the thought of facing any of the boys with this thing on his face is enough to keep him under lockdown.

Day two isn’t as easy, and reality begins to set in before the sun even rises.

He’s not getting the muzzle off. Ghost isn’t coming to him, he’s got to go to Ghost. That’s just the way it is, and Johnny has to find a way to work with it.

He creeps out of his room at five a.m., his hunger having kept him awake for most of the night. He’s far more focused on keeping himself near-silent than he usually is at this time, cringing at the thought of one of the boys coming out to see who’s slinking around and coming face to face with Johnny and his muzzle.

He knocks on Ghost’s door as quietly as he can, thankful that the enforcer still lives in the clubhouse even if most of the patched-in members have their own places. It’s really just the prospects and a couple of the executive members who live in the main house full time, but luckily Ghost is one of them.

Johnny has to knock several times before the door is finally thrown open in front of him to show Ghost maskless and glaring, wearing only a pair of boxers.

Johnny blinks a few times quickly, gives himself just a single heartbeat to glance at the miles of pale skin in front of him, then forces himself to make eye-contact, toying with the attachment between his teeth. He’s seen Ghost’s face a couple times before, usually in the gym, but it’s a rare enough thing that it still feels like a treat – even with the mean twist to Ghost’s lips.

“Do you have any idea what fuckin’ time it is?”

Johnny blinks innocently, holding up a five with his fingers. Ghost’s scowl grows, and Johnny finds himself thankful for the muzzle for the first time when it hides his smirk.

“Get in here,” Ghost grunts, grabbing Johnny by the mohawk and shoving him into the room. He stumbles, taken off guard, but quickly straightens back up and runs a hand through his hair, glaring at Ghost.

“You spent all day yesterday hiding and pouting, makin’ Gaz do all your chores, then you wake me up at the ass crack of dawn,” Ghost complains, shouldering past Johnny to sit heavily on his bed, the mattress squeaking beneath his weight. “Let me guess, you’re hungry?”

Johnny nods eagerly, taking quick steps forward. It’s not quite as embarrassing as he thought it would be to wear the muzzle in front of Ghost. He doesn’t sit beside the enforcer, unwilling to risk pissing him off when his stomach is rumbling so strongly.

Ghost narrows his eyes before sighing and reaching up to pull the key forward, taunting him wih it. “On your knees, then.”

Johnny hestates, shifting his weight.

Ghost glares up at him, snapping expectantly. “Well? I can’t fuckin’ reach you from here, can I?”

Part of Johnny wants to mime his way through insisting that Ghost just stand to unlock the damn muzzle. Still, a much larger, much hungrier, much hornier part of him is more than willing to drop to his knees for this man.

He takes it a little far, maybe, inching forward until he’s firmly between Ghost’s legs and his knees are resting against the box spring his mattress rests on, kneeling up high and using Ghost’s thighs to balance himself. But Johnny’s always been a bit of a slut, and he can see the outline of Ghost’s cock through his boxers, and really he’s only a man.

Ghost pushes his head down until his chin is pressed against his chest, broad palm and calloused fingers easily holding Johnny in place so he can tug the small locks off. A moment later he laces his fingers through the thick mohawk, pulling Johnny’s face up and catching the muzzle as it falls.

Johnny can’t help but groan, stretching his jaw and rubbing it with one hand, leaning his weight to the side and onto one of Ghost’s thighs.. “Fuckin’ hell,” he complains, rubbing his face against the back of his hand. “Could hardly breathe in tha’ thing.”

Ghost scoffs, lightly cuffing Johnny in the side of the head. “Don’t be dramatic, you’re fine.” His nose curls a moment later as he drops the muzzle by his side. “Breath fuckin’ reeks though.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Johnny sneers. “I couldnae exactly brush my teeth – ye see, a controlling bastard locked me in a fuckin’ muzzle!”

Ghost rests his big hand on the side of Johnny’s face, a threat of something more violent. “And you’re proving exactly why I did it right now with all that fucking chatter. If you knew how to shut the fuck up, you wouldn’t be here in the first place, and I wouldn’t be having to babysit you.” He smacks his palm lightly against Johnny’s cheek, smirking at the instinctual flinch. “Now stay.”

Johnny listens, but not without complaining, watching as Ghost lumbers to the en suite. “Muzzles, and now commands? Ye do know I’m a fuckin’ man, don’t ye? I won’t run through tunnels or wag my tail or whatever other weird shit you want me to do.”

Ghost comes back hardly a minute later, damp toothbrush with toothpaste laid out on it in hand and a distinctly unimpressed expression. Johnny’s smirk grows.

“Maybe ye’re into this, is that it? I won’t kinkshame, mate – if ye like yer ladies barkin’ for ye in bed, more power to ye.” He holds his hands up mockingly as Ghost settles back in front of him, feet set closer on either side of Johnny’s knees than they were before. “Doesnae work for me, o’ course, so ye’d probably get off quicker if ye found one of the club whores to–”

Johnny’s rudely interupted by the toothbrush being shoved into his mouth with no warning. He rears back, grabbing Ghost’s wrist to try and yank him away and utterly failing. Ghost levels him with an unimpressed look, eyebrow cocked as he roughly shoves the toothbrush to the back of Johnny’s mouth, scrubbing his molars.

“Do you need somethin’ in your mouth to keep you quiet, is that it?” Ghost asks, his other hand coming around to grab Johnny by the back of the neck and reel him closer, holding him still as he begins to brush his teeth. “Need someone to force you to do somethin’ with it or you just won’t listen, huh?”

Johnny grunts a disagreement, eyes twisted up as he cringes from Ghost’s rough treatment. Much more of this and he’s sure his gums’ll be bleeding.

“Still,” Ghost orders, holding Johnny steady enough that he has no problem thoroughly scrubbing every bit of hit teeth. “Tongue out,” he says, and Johnny hardly hesitates this time, letting his tongue loll out and rest on his lip, albeit with a glare.

He doesn’t miss the way Ghost’s eyes heat at the sight, or the way the outline of his cock becomes more pronounced when the brush reaches far enough back in Johnny’s throat that he gags.

He plays it up a little. So what? Ghost is probably the hottest person he’s ever seen, and Johnny doesn’t shy away from a chance to work up the people around him, especially when they’re almost naked and shoving something to the back of his throat.

When Ghost deems him clean – well, his mouth clean, he completely ignores the copious amounts of drool and toothpaste dripping down Johnny’s chin that neither of them have bothered to wipe away – he squeezes Johnny’s neck, once, pulling away.

“Go spit that out,” he says, nudging Johnny’s knee with his foot and passing him the brush. “Then come back and we’ll get you fed. Then you can leave me the hell alone.”

Johnny doesn’t even pretend that he believes Ghost’s grouchy tone, just smirks and crudely swipes at the drool on his face as he heads to the en suite.

When he comes back out the TV has been turned on to a channel playing some old reruns of a sitcom he just vaguely recognizes, and he sees Ghost typing something on his phone, feet still set wide enough to allow Johnny to sink to his knees between them again. He glances down when Johnny does that, but largely ignores him until he finishes whatever he was typing.

“Another prospect’ll bring up breakfast in a few,” he says a few minutes later, phone discarded on the bed as he looks down at Johnny. “You’ll have to find a way to make it up to them, all these extra chores they’ve gotta do for you.”

Johnny scowls, insulted. “I carry my weight around here,” he defends, leaning back on his ankles a bit when Ghost only rumbles a low sound. “I do! I get more assignments than any of the other prospects, and I clean up after them when they make a mess anyway.”

“Still,” Ghost hums. Wrapping his hand around the back of Johnny’s head and dragging him closer. “You’ll have to keep doin’ all that, even now. You can’t just hide away until I decide you’ve earned your voice again.”

Johnny glares a bit, any heat that was building in his core fading rapidly as the conversation carries on. “I’m not fuckin’ hiding.”

“You didn’t leave your room once yesterday,” Ghost says, deadpan.

Johnny almost wants to growl. “I was tired.”

Ghost snorts, fingers scratching lightly at the shaved side of Johnny’s head. “Sure, pup. Whatever you say.”

Johnny forces himself not to reply to that, sure that he’d somehow just dig himself into a deeper pit. The muzzle still lays next to Ghost’s thigh, and it doesn’t escape Johnny that he’s got no control of when it goes back on his face.

Silence has never come easily to Johnny before, but he finds it surprisingly not-diffuclt to indulge now, letting himself sit quietly between Ghost’s knees as the TV drones on behind him. Ghost’s hand shifts to the top of his head, fingers combing through his hair and his nails lightly dragging across sensitive skin.

It’s no less than five minutes later when Ghost speaks again.

“You wanna suck my cock?”

Johnny considers, for a very brief moment, being offended. That passes quickly when he sees that Ghost is entirely serious, not even a hint of humor on his face, and Johnny cautiously shifts on his knees. “Ye serious? Thought ye liked the birds, Ghost.”

Ghost grunts, neither a confirmation or a denial. “You want me in your mouth or not?”

Johnny waits a second, considers it. He knows he’s going to say yes, but he tries to give the appearance of not being too easy. From the lazy way Ghost watches him, he’s sure that he’s not fooling the older biker, but he’s got enough pride to try.

Still, only a few breaths later he nods and says, “Pull it out, then.”

Ghost snorts, but listens, pulling his cock from his boxers and tugging at it lazily.

Johnny’s mouth starts watering as soon as he sees it, desperate to wrap his lips around the enforcer and taste his cum. He leans forward on instinct, tounge stretching out to try and lick Ghost and bring him to full hardness.

“No,” Ghost scolds, and the hand in Johnny’s hair suddenly shifts into a much tighter grip, holding him away from the cock hanging in front of his face. “I didn’t give you permission yet, did I? This is why you need that muzzle, pup, you’ve got no control over yourself.”

Johnny gives Ghost a look. “Ye like controllin’ me plenty for the both o’ us.”

Ghost smirks. “That’s why you’re gonna take me down your throat and let me lock that muzzle on with my cum in your mouth.”

“What about breakfast?”

Ghost finally drags Johnny closer, resting the ruddy head of his cock against Johnny’s cupid’s bow. “We’ll see if you can earn it.”

Johnny opens his mouth to defend himself, but before he can get even a word out, Ghost is pushing his head forward and filling his mouth with cock.

Johnny makes a surprised sound, tongue squirming against the underside of Ghost’s length. His hands insticutally spasm against Ghost’s thigh, but he gets himself under control a moment later and relaxes into the slow push of the hand on the back of his neck.

“There you go,” Ghost groans, thighs falling open more on either side of Johnny as he leans into the pleasure. “Take all of me, c’mon.”

Johnny wraps one of his hands as best he can around Ghost’s thigh, holding on tight as he forces himself to breathe through his nose and gag as little as possible. He can’t help the way he tears up a bit, breaths puffing harshly from his nostrils.

Ghost groans above him when Johnny’s lips seal around the base of his cock, throat working furiously to milk him. “Fuck, that’s a good mouth.”

Johnny tries to pull back a bit and start to really suck Ghost’s soul from his cock, but the hand on the back of his head doesn’t let him move an inch, only grinds his face a little more deeply into his crotch. Johnny reaches up brush away the few tears leaking from his eyes and nearly chokes when Ghost groans, thrusting up into his mouth.

“You look pretty when you cry,” Ghost rumbles, leading Johnny’s head in a slow journey back up his cock, not letting it slip from his lips. “Much prettier than when you bitch.”

Johnny tries to force himself to be offended, but he’s far too busy focusing on the way Ghost slides his face up and down his cock, trying to suck and lick where he can to maintain some control of the situation.

Ghost uses his mouth almost like a fleshlight, holding Johnny so tightly that he can’t move any faster or slower than he’s allowed to, forced to stay at the exact pace Ghost wants. It drives him a little crazy, the total lack of control he has even though it’s his mouth making Ghost moan above him.

Ghost holds him closer to the tip of his dick for a few moments, just sawing the first few inches of his cock beween Johnny’s lips. On instict, Johnny lets his teeth graze the head just a bit, enough to be sure that Ghost can feel it, and a few thrusts later Ghost is shooting down his throat.

In the surge of his orgasm Ghost’s hand goes limp, and Johnny is able to shove his face down to the very base of Ghost’s cock so his cum goes right down his throat, milking him as best he can. Ghost’s groans are loud from above him, and Johnny palms his own half-hard dick as he drinks the spunk down.

When Ghost finally lets him pull off, Johnny can’t help but smirk proudly, brushing the back of his hand over his lips to clean off any drool and practically preening between Ghost’s legs.

The older man only huffs, tucking himself back into his boxers and looking down at Johnny with what almost seems like fondness.

“Should’ve told Price I’d keep you gagged like that instead,” he muses, reaching forward to thumb at the corner of Johnny’s lip. “Put this mouth to good use instead of just shuttin’ you up. Two birds, one stone, yeah?”

Johnny scoffs and rolls his eyes, but leans into the hand on his face. “Ye’d never get any work done. I’d have you sucked dry before ye could even have breakfast.”

Ghost snorts, and Johnny feels his chest warm a bit at the sound. It only cools the slightest bit when Ghost reaches for the muzzle, straightening the leather in his hands a bit.

Johnny leans back on his haunches, trying not to scowl. “What about letting me eat?”

Ghost tilts his head, considering. “You let me put this back on you until food’s ready and I’ll let you hump my leg to get yourself off, how’s that sound?”

Johnny hesitates a moment, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Or,” Ghost continues, rolling his shoulders back and straightening until he truly looms over Johnny. “You can keep this off and kneel between my legs downstairs, let everyone see how much better behaved you already are.”

Johnny scowls at that, cheeks flaming. He leans forward, pushing himself up with his palms on Ghost’s thigh and presents his face for the muzzle. He doesn’t bother saying a word, letting his half-glare do the work for him.

Ghost only smirks, locking the muzzle around his jaw with an efficiency that speaks to practice. Johnny opens his mouth easily for the attachment this time, jaw aching slightly at the forced spread.

“Good choice,” Ghost says, locking it tight around Johnny’s head. He leans back a moment later, pushing Johnny down with a heavy hand on his shoulder and shifting a leg between his.

“Now,” Ghost says, tapping his foot on the ground and running a hand over the smooth leather covering Johnny’s face. “Why don’t you get yourself off so you can relax, hm?”

Mask hiding the feral smile growing on his lips, Johnny wraps his arms around Ghost’s leg and lets his hips work against the muscle pressed against him.

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