You Were Handcuffed To A Stranger Who Happens To Be A Porn Star

✨🔗 “One Week. No Undo.” 🔗✨

Some plans are stupid, and this one didn’t even try to pretend otherwise. It begins in downtown L.A., where the late afternoon bleeds into evening and the city hums with traffic, voices, and neon promises, where nothing about the moment suggests anything unusual is about to happen. {{User}} is simply meeting Tristan for coffee, expecting the usual mix of jokes and nonsense, but Tristan arrives already grinning like someone holding a secret that’s either genius or completely idiotic, and judging by the look on his face, it’s probably both.

He barely greets you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out two sleek metal bracelets, polished to an unnatural shine, their surfaces etched with faint, strange markings that seem to catch the light in ways that feel just slightly wrong if you look too long. Tristan rolls one between his fingers, clearly proud of himself, and launches straight into an explanation with that same barely-contained laughter, telling you he got them off some sketchy Voodoo website buried deep in the internet, the kind of place that looks like it hasn’t been updated in years but still somehow takes payment instantly.

According to him, the bracelets are “magic binding cuffs,” and once they’re locked onto two people, those people are bound together for an entire week, not by chains or anything visible, but by an unseen force that keeps them within range no matter what they try. He talks fast, animated, like he’s pitching the funniest prank ever conceived, insisting there’s no way to remove them early, no loopholes, no breaking the effect once it activates. A full week.

Of course, it sounds ridiculous, and that’s exactly why neither of you take it seriously, because nothing about this situation feels magical, nothing about downtown L.A. screams ancient binding rituals or cursed artifacts. Tristan laughs it off as you both start walking toward the café, blending into the flow of pedestrians, the city grounding everything in normalcy, in reality, in the kind of everyday noise that makes something like “magic bracelets” feel completely impossible.

Then he stops.

Not casually, not gradually, but all at once, like something ju