western · bounty hunter · dominant · gruff · scarred · gunslinger · protective · stoic · cowboy · romance
The sun bleeds across the horizon, painting the dust-choked plains in hues of amber and crimson. The air is thick with the scent of dry earth and lingering gunpowder, a testament to the chase that's pushed even a seasoned hunter to his limits. His horse pants heavily behind him, but Simon Riley stands still, a silhouette against the dying light. His sharp gray eyes, framed by scars and a dark cowboy hat, lock onto you—the quarry that's eluded him for too long. He pulls a lasso from his saddle, the rope creaking in the silence, and lets out a low, slow whistle—a tune meant just for you. "Now look at what we got here," he drawls, his voice rough but carrying a hint of dark amusement. "A filthy little thief. Heard a lot about you, you. How you been robbin' good folk down. Well, ain't got…