V and Jackie had enough street cred now to get enough attention from Rogue, the hotshot legend fixer in the night city.The gigs weren't those nickel-and-dime scraps anymore; nah, she dished out the premium cuts, the kind that could make or break a merc's name in Night City. V and Jackie, that dynamic duo, were suddenly swimming in the deep end—her sharp corpo smarts meshing with his raw Valentino muscle like they were made for each other. It stirred something in me, that perfect blend of brains, brawn, and that underlying heat that simmered between them. Every job felt like a step closer to legend status, but damn, it came with risks that twisted your gut with fear and excitement.
First off the block was a slick data theft from Kang Tao's R&D lab out in the Industrial ,District. Rogue briefed them in the Afterlife's back room, her voice cutting through the haze like a blade. "Kang Tao's cooking up some next-gen optics—steal the prototypes and the schematics. V, your infiltration chops are key here. Jackie, muscle the way out if it goes south." V nodded, her heart racing with that familiar mix of dread and thrill, memories of her Arasaka days flooding back like a bad hack. She geared up in a sleek black catsuit that hugged every inch of her voluptuous body—the fabric stretching taut over her full, heavy breasts, outlining their perfect swell, dipping low at the neck to tease just enough cleavage to distract any gonk with a pulse. Her narrow waist flared into those wide hips that swayed as she moved, her ass a firm, rounded temptation that made Jackie steal glances while he loaded his Nue.
"Looking sharp, chica," Jackie rumbled, his eyes lingering on how the suit clung to her thighs, those long legs ending in boots that clicked with purpose. "You gonna sneak in or just walk through the front door and have 'em drooling?"
V smirked, bumping her hip against his playfully, feeling the spark of contact. "A little of both. You just be ready to punch our way out if my charms wear off." They infiltrated at midnight, V quickhacking the perimeter cams while scaling a fence, her body moving with fluid grace—breasts heaving with each breath, sweat beading on her pale skin under the subdermal tattoos that flickered faintly. Inside, she slinked through vents, curves brushing cold metal, heart pounding as guards patrolled below. She dropped into the lab silent as a ghost, mantis blades ready, but used her allure on a lone tech—leaning close, her breath warm on his ear, breasts pressing lightly against his arm as she whispered distractions. "Hey, choom, mind if I borrow this?" Her hand slipped the data shard while he stammered, eyes glued to her cleavage. Jackie burst in for the extract, gorilla arms smashing drones, his roars echoing as they bolted. Back safe, eddies in hand, V felt alive—fear turning to triumph, but that close call left her craving release.
Next came a protection gig for a smuggler convoy rolling through Tyger Claws territory in Japantown. The Claws were pissed about some turf beef, and Rogue needed the cargo—black-market chrome—delivered intact. "Watch for ambushes," she warned. "They're fast, flashy, and don't play fair." Jackie took point on his Nazaré, V riding shotgun in the lead truck, her Malorian holstered on her thigh, visible through the slit in her tactical skirt. The convoy snaked through neon-lit alleys, tension thick as smog. When the Claws hit—katanas gleaming, bikes roaring—V's sandevistan kicked in, time slowing as she leaped out, blades extending. She carved through one ganger, blood spraying hot across her chest, staining the top that barely contained her bouncing breasts. "Jackie, flank 'em!" she yelled, dodging a slash, her hips twisting in a dodge that left her ass flexing under the fabric.
"¡Vámonos, cabrones!" Jackie bellowed, piling into a group, fists crunching chrome skulls. They fought back-to-back, his bulk shielding her as she hacked a Claw's bike mid-air, sending it crashing. Bullets whizzed, one grazing her arm, pain sharp and real, mixing with the adrenaline high. They saved the convoy, but V's wound stung, Jackie patching her up later in a dingy motel. His big hands gentle on her skin, eyes soft. "You okay, V? That was too close." She nodded, leaning into his touch, feeling the warmth spread. "Yeah, thanks to you. We're unstoppable together." That night, the closeness lingered, but they kept it professional—barely.
Even a hit on a Maelstrom lieutenant holed up in a Pacifica warehouse tested them. The gonk had zeroed a client's kid, and Rogue wanted him flatlined quiet. "No witnesses," she said flatly. V and Jackie stalked in under cover of rain, her in a hooded jacket over a tight tank that accentuated her curves, rain slicking the fabric to her body like a second skin. They took out guards silent—V's blades slicing throats, blood warm on her hands, fear knotting her stomach as sparks flew from severed chrome. Jackie crushed the lieutenant's skull with a single punch, but not before the psycho tagged V with a shock baton, jolting her system. "V! Hang on!" Jackie scooped her up, his arms around her waist, feeling the soft give of her hips as he carried her out. In the getaway car, she recovered, panting, breasts rising and falling rapidly. "That hurt like hell," she gasped. "But we got him." Jackie grinned, but his worry showed. "You're tough, chica. Toughest I know."
But the gig that really etched itself into my fantasies? That infiltration at the Embers club gala in City Center. Rogue laid it out: "Biotechnica exec's got a biochip with gene-splice data. Pose as a power couple, lift it clean." V's eyes lit up with mischief, but her gut twisted—high society meant rubbing elbows with her old corpo ghosts. She dolled up in a crimson gown that screamed seduction, the silky fabric clinging to her hourglass figure like it was poured on. The neckline plunged deep, framing her full, heavy breasts that threatened to spill with every breath, pale skin glowing under the lights. The skirt slit high up one thigh, revealing garter stockings that hugged her toned legs, ending in strappy heels. She twirled in front of the mirror, hips swaying, ass curving perfectly, feeling a rush of confidence mixed with vulnerability. "How do I look?" she asked Jackie, voice husky.
He stood there in his tux, the fabric straining over his massive chest and arms, beard groomed, looking like a cleaned-up beast. His eyes devoured her, darkening with hunger. "Dios mío, V—you're gonna flatline 'em all before we even get the chip. I might have to fight off half the room just to keep you close." He stepped nearer, hand brushing her arm, sending shivers down her spine.
She winked, linking her arm with his, feeling the solid warmth of him. "That's the plan, choom. Use me as bait—you plant the bugs." At the gala, opulence hit like a booster: crystal chandeliers, real champagne flowing, corpos in finery mingling with influencers. V and Jackie blended seamlessly, her sensuality a weapon—she danced with targets, hips rolling hypnotically, breasts brushing arms "accidentally" as she laughed at lame jokes. "Tell me more about your work," she'd purr to one suit, leaning in so her cleavage drew his eyes, while Jackie slipped behind to hack comms. His hand on her lower back during a waltz felt possessive, fingers dipping low, grazing the top of her ass through the gown. Under the table later, his hand slid up her thigh via the slit, teasing the garter, her breath hitching. "Jackie... focus," she whispered, but her body betrayed her, heat pooling between her legs.
They snagged the chip during a distraction—V pressing close to the exec, her curves molding against him, lips near his ear as she swapped it mid-kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the dance," she murmured, pulling away with a smirk. Alarms stayed silent; they ghosted out clean. But in the safehouse, the tension snapped. Jackie pinned her against the wall, hands hiking up her gown, exposing her lace panties. "Can't hold back anymore, V," he growled, mouth crashing onto hers, tongue invading with urgency.
She moaned, legs wrapping around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders. "Then don't," she gasped, feeling his hardness press against her core. His hands kneaded her ass, firm and rough, lifting her as he ground into her. The gown's straps slipped, baring one breast—he latched on, sucking the nipple hard, sending jolts of pleasure through her. They didn't make it to the bed; it was quick, heated—him thrusting deep, her cries echoing as waves crashed over her, bodies slick and trembling. After, panting, V pulled away. "Last time, Jackie. We can't let this screw up the partnership." He nodded, eyes conflicted, that human ache of wanting more twisting in his chest. "Yeah... last time."
Rogue clocked it right away, pulling V aside after a debrief. "That chemistry between you two? It's gold for gigs—keeps you sharp, in sync. But don't let it burn you out, kid. Night City's full of flames that consume." V nodded, but inside, doubt swirled— the affair had cracked something open, that rush of using her body for pleasure, not just survival. More gigs piled on: escorting a netrunner through Maelstrom turf, V's distractions buying time while Jackie cleared paths; a corporate sabotage where her honeytrap skills lured a guard into a trap. Her rep ballooned—whispers in the Afterlife of the "Curvy Ghost," the merc who seduced souls before slicing them. It thrilled her, ego swelling, but temptations slithered in—a joytoy post-heist offering "extras" with a wink, her augmented body pressing close, stirring curiosity. A fixer hinting at gigs with "perks," eyes leering at her curves. "You could make extra eddies on the side, doll," he'd say. V brushed it off, but the seed grew, that dark hunger Night City fed.
As they geared for the big one—a raid on an Arasaka black site in the Combat Zone—V felt the shift deep in her bones. Rogue's intel was solid: "Arasaka's hiding experimental neuralware. Hit hard, extract the data, blow the place." Prep was intense, V poring over maps, heart heavy with old grudges, fear of facing her past head-on. Jackie noticed, pulling her into a hug. "We got this, V. Together." She leaned into him, breasts soft against his chest, but pulled back before it ignited again. From corpo castaway to rising star, alliances forged in blood, sweat, and stolen passion.