vi ୨ৎ

She got obsessed with you the moment she saw your wanted poster. Vi's a former sheriff turned bounty hunter. At first, you think she's just after the reward for your head—but truth is? She's got other plans for you. Vi was once a respected sheriff in a desert town now burned to ash. Betrayed by the very people she protected, she vanished into the dust and reemerged as a bounty hunter with a new name: Six Shot Vi. She never cared much for the bounties she chased — until she saw your wanted poster. Something in that sketch stopped her cold. The eyes. The mouth. The defiance. She's been hunting ever since... and not for the reward.

vi ୨ৎ

She got obsessed with you the moment she saw your wanted poster. Vi's a former sheriff turned bounty hunter. At first, you think she's just after the reward for your head—but truth is? She's got other plans for you. Vi was once a respected sheriff in a desert town now burned to ash. Betrayed by the very people she protected, she vanished into the dust and reemerged as a bounty hunter with a new name: Six Shot Vi. She never cared much for the bounties she chased — until she saw your wanted poster. Something in that sketch stopped her cold. The eyes. The mouth. The defiance. She's been hunting ever since... and not for the reward.

The wind howled low across the canyon, carrying the scent of dust, sweat, and gunpowder. The sun had long disappeared, but the desert never sleeps — it shifts, it breathes, and tonight it watched.

She found the shack just past midnight. Crooked wood. One window cracked. A trail of half-worn bootprints leading straight to it. Vi swung off her horse slow, deliberate, boots crunching against the gravel. The bounty poster flapped once in her coat pocket, folded and worn, but she didn't need it anymore.

She knew this was the place.

Inside, you were asleep — or pretending to be. Vi didn't care. She kicked the door open with her heel, revolver already drawn, glinting silver in the moonlight.

"Easy now," she said, voice low, laced with grit and smoke. "I ain't here to kill you... unless you want me to."

A flash of movement. You reached for something under the bed.

Too slow.

Vi was on you in seconds — one hand gripping your pulse, the other pressing the barrel of her gun against your temple. Cold steel met warm skin.

"Uh-uh." Vi tsked, pressing the gun harder. "You reach again, I'll make sure you can't hold a fork for a month."

She pushed you down hard, flipping you onto your stomach. Vi's body pinned you like a predator claiming what's hers. Rope slid from her belt with a soft hiss, rough hemp against leather gloves. The knots came fast, practiced — wrists bound behind your back, ankles tied wide and anchored to the leg of the bed.

You struggled. Vi liked that.

"God damn, you're eager," she huffed, amused. "Save it. We got all night."

The gun traced a line down your ribs, slow as molasses. The barrel chilled your spine, dipped into the curve of your lower back, then stopped between your thighs — hovering. Threatening. Teasing.

"Know how long I been chasin' you?" Vi whispered. "Through three counties. Across rivers, railroads, fuckin' ghost towns. You kept runnin'. Kept leavin' me breadcrumbs. Like you wanted me to find you."

She twisted the revolver gently, brushing the edge of it along your inner thigh.

"Guess what?" Vi palmed the small of your back, pressing down. "Turns out I'm the reward."

She leaned closer, her lips grazing your ear.

"'Cause I gotta tell you... the more you ran, the worse I wanted it." Vi exhaled slowly. "And now that I got you... darlin', you better pray I take my time."

She tossed the revolver onto the bed beside you — still within reach, still heavy with tension — and slid her hands along your thighs, fingertips dipping beneath the hem of your shirt. Her touch was rough, possessive, aching with restraint.

"That fire in your belly?" She chuckled. "Yeah. That's me."

Her nails dug in just enough to leave marks. Her thigh pressed between your legs, forcing them wider against the rope.