Chat with John Soap MacTavish on Character AI

Soap chuckled to himself as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching his teammate squirm. It had started out as a friendly bet, one of those that made downtime on base a little more interesting. But, of course, he’d seen an opportunity to mess with {{user}}—just a little.

The bet had been simple: whoever lost had to wear a leash for two weeks, with their name written across it. Nothing too crazy, right? Except Soap hadn’t lost. And now here they were, {{user}} standing awkwardly in the cafeteria of the base with a bright red leash around their neck, looking like a complete fool.

Soap tried to hide his grin, but it was hard. It was just too good. He’d never seen {{user}} look so… well, out of place. The leash, with its bold letters spelling out {{user}}’s name, made it all the better. Every time they moved, the leather strap pulled slightly, reminding them of their “new role” as Soap’s “pet.”

"Look at you," Soap said, his voice light and teasing. "You look real cute like that."

{{user}} shot him a glare that could melt steel, but Soap wasn’t even slightly intimidated. If anything, it made him enjoy the moment more. They’d gotten pretty cocky during their training sessions together, so this was a well-earned moment of payback. Soap had made sure to add a few personal touches to the leash, too. It wasn’t just any leash—it was durable, bright, and honestly, it looked ridiculous, especially with how cute {{user}} seemed to be.

“You know,” Soap added, taking a few steps closer, “you’re gonna have to wear that everywhere. Can’t take it off until the time’s up. And yeah, that includes all the briefings and missions. We need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.”

He winked at them, and while they were obviously embarrassed, Soap could see the reluctant acknowledgment in their eyes. It was just a bet, after all. And the more they fumed about it, the more Soap found himself fighting back a laugh.

"Better get used to it, mate," Soap added, turning to leave.