#jessa x mc

[megatraven]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JESSA!!!!!

[wlw-obsession]

I've missed you, starlight 🥰

[jupitter-argento]

Prime time

[scottishsapphic]

RIP my bank account with Nahara, Xenia, Jessa and Vivienne all updating at the same time 🥴

And PIAMA next month too!

[pongo-optima]

The narrative in Jess's route is breathtaking ♥️

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Morning kisses for Jessa please?

The investigator huffed out a sigh for the umpteenth time as sleep continued to evade her. It was at a moment like this that she would often profusely curse her abnormal body clock. Though, these profanities had minimised in weeks gone by with the presence of a new bedfellow, a permanent one at that.

Although not entirely awake, MC slowly began to take stock of her surroundings, reconnecting with her environment with every second that passed. What became starkly apparent was the warmth emanating from a body entwined with her own, Jessa.

Beneath the covers that clung to their lower halves, their legs were entangled beyond belief. A similar sight could also be observed in areas not obscured by the duvet. Sporting equally serene and content expressions, both women were wedged closely against the other, with MC nestled into Jessa’s chest and the latter’s arms wrapped snuggly around MC’s frame.

Relishing in the comfort of the embrace, MC was almost tempted to give sleep another chance, but as night began to turn into day, she couldn’t help but wish to start it on a good note. By angling her head ever so slightly to the right, she gained full access to the expanse of skin that was the bartender’s neck and collarbone. Gradually with bleary eyes, MC began to focus on shifting shimmering azure locks over Jessa’s bare shoulder, maximising her access successfully.

Only then did she press featherlight kisses to soft skin in a random fashion. As time passed, she became more daring, extending the reach of her lips to some particularly sensitive patches of tender skin. Alongside the inclusion of varying degrees of pressure that were meticulously utilised, it was no surprise when Jessa began to wake up from her slumber, humming lowly as her eyes fluttered open.

At that very moment, MC chose to use the last of her arsenal, her teeth. Gently she nipped and nibbled, honing in on Jessa’s collarbone, pulling forth a drawn-out moan from the bartender. Once the radiant skin had been thoroughly kissed and marred with red marks, the investigator pulled back to admire her work.

Taking in Jessa’s half-lidded expression, satisfaction bloomed within. Using a single hand to cup the bartender’s cheek, she pulled Jessa’s attention back to reality, back to her specifically. Her efforts had been appreciated, evident by the quirk of Jessa’s lips as they pulled upward into a smile. A reward was prompt in the form of a languid kiss that both were reluctant to end. Only when oxygen became a necessity did they part, each flushed and breathless, their morning started the right way.

[jmojellybae]

Jessa S2 EP10

[jedimayukidaawesome]

Jessa Season 4 Episodes 1-3 Heart Choices

For today’s drop of Jessa’s Season 4 Premiere, we have a fine selection of nickel-nicking produce up for sale, with each one getting increasingly fluffier than a Samoyed puppy in a sheep onesie sleeping on a soft cloud.

Choice A is fantastic for Jessa lore, with the MC showing great support and dialogue. Not really much to add plot wise, but then again, none of today’s choices really add much to plot. However, good background material for the Headcanon and Fanfiction writers to build a solid foundation with.

Choice B is for all the switches and tops out there, as well as the bottoms who want to know what it’s like to not the them for a while. Seriously; there needs to be more instances of MCs topping in this app, if anything for the representation that tops and switches actually play these routes as well. Then again, when does Voltage actually listen to their users and give them the representation they want - like more POC LIs and MCs, or male, trans and non binary LIs and MCs?

Ah well, a rant for another time; please forgive my rambling.

Choice 3 is cliché and cheesy, and I have no issue with either. Mainly because I to am cliché and cheesy and I live off of fluff like that in stories as much as I live to love watching characters suffering angst and depression first.

All over, my favourite and recommended option is Choice B, as I love the detailed writing and how it flows, and because I need to retain my permanent residency in the Sin Bin Horny Jail for Lost Causes.

Until next week! Stay horny frosty!

[chilledlesbian]

[offtopicoverload]

This Isn’t How it Was Supposed to Go

This was supposed to be quick and easy, harmless and inconsequential. This was supposed to be a final goodbye, an actual goodbye, not whatever this is. Not this, never this.

so i’m a failure and couldn’t bring myself to finish the chapter i wanted to post over the weekend, so have this random ficlet as my first foray into Lovestruck writing instead. enjoy, i guess. i was just tryna vibe and my brain said "hey what if mc dies in that episode you just read" so here we are

M Rating (i mean. the bitch dies sooo)

Jessa x MC

~1.2k words (short, but im tired, so leave me alone)

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. This isn’t at all how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to be quick and easy, harmless and inconsequential, a minor hiccup to look back on years from now with a fond, potentially exasperated smile. This was supposed to be a final goodbye, an ending, however sad it may be, a bookend on a whirlwind series. This was supposed to be an actual farewell, not whatever this is. Not this, never this.

Her body hits the ground.

Her body hits the ground hard, muscles twitching violently as electricity courses through her entire being, a raw, grating, horrific scream dying in her throat. Dying in her throat as her body hits the ground. Her body hits the ground limp, motionless, empty and lifeless as everything becomes nothing. Nothing becomes everything as her body hits the ground.

Jessa’s running before she’s even thinking, before she’s even processed the monstrosity of a sight in front of her, before anything feels real. She’s sprinting, her skin humming with the currents she crosses as they sing in her veins, as purple plays along her skin, as heat dances through her muscles for once. She runs and runs until she’s collapsing, still surrounded by the buzzing grid, and pulling the body into her arms.

Tears fall down star-speckled cheeks and blur within sunrise eyes, but they don’t matter, not when she’s not moving, not when her chest isn’t rising, not when her face is slack and her eyes are rolled back. Nothing matters as Jessa takes in the lightning scars scorched along mint green skin, the singe on previously perfect clothes, the burns staining fingertips. Nothing matters, nothing matters and Jessa doubts anything ever will again.

“No, come on, come on, whiskey girl,” Jessa mutters under her breath, fingers brushing away errant strands of hair from her forehead. “Whiskey girl, give me something,” she pleads, cold fingertips searching for a pulse, searching for exhales, searching for a heartbeat, searching for anything, anything at all.

But she doesn’t find anything, anything at all. The only things she finds are air that’s too still, skin that’s too cool, and a chest that’s too stiff. She doesn’t find anything as she desperately searches and pleads and cries for the body laying in her lap, for the woman that’s unresponsive, for the whiskey girl that’s not a whiskey girl anymore.

Until the tiniest inhale breaks the quiet, alighting Jessa’s nerves in a way wholly different from the electric shocks. It’s the smallest gasp, the slightest wheeze as she stirs barely, just barely. But it’s enough for something akin to hope to blossom in Jessa’s stomach, enough for her to be cupping a pale cheek and murmuring sacrilegious prayers incoherently.

Another intake, another miniscule rise of her chest, and Jessa’s all but sobbing in relief. She’s hugging the body resting against hers, she’s whispering promises and pleas and a thousand other words that could never be assigned a true purpose besides reassurance and unadulterated adoration.

She wipes the tears from her cheeks with a weak, watery, hollow laugh, her hand further rising to rake blue hair and curling tendrils back from her flushed and messy face. Her eyes scan the grid, sparks still flickering around her - them. There’s still a them, there will always be a them, she won’t let there not be a them. 

She cradles the body against her and rises to her feet tentatively, struggling slightly under the weight resting in her arms. Careful steps take her to the edge of the current, to the dancing embers of purple splayed in a labyrinth, each footfall hesitant and slow, a wary waltz on an unstable dancefloor. She retraces her way through the maze, every turn and every shift in the static sending anxiety spiking in her chest as she holds the body against her tighter.

This isn’t over, it’s never over. Jessa’s never met a true end, never met a final chance, never met a rule she can’t break or squirm her way around. She’s never failed so terribly and never said a goodbye she didn’t want to say, and this is no different, it can’t be.

After all this, all the bounties and shady dealings, all the blushes and fluttering stomachs, all the rule breaking and risks, this isn’t different. It’s not different for her, and it’s not different for the infuriating PI limp in her arms. The same PI that doesn’t give in, that doesn’t skip out on a job, that swore she’d see this to the end.

She’s not allowed to back out, she’s not allowed to quit, she’s not allowed to run from this job. She’s not allowed to leave, to disappear, to abandon this. She’s not allowed to abandon Jessa, not after fighting so hard. Not after Sweetheart’s Day, not after stepping back into the bar after all that time, not after those nights in the club, not after those nights in the backroom. Not after secret rendezvous and midnight video calls. Not after all this shit.

Jessa grunts, hoisting her higher to adjust her grip, and carries on in the direction of the tiny village, determination boiling inside of her. She hurries over to the first person she spots, a hunched over old woman who kindly points her in the direction of the village’s hospital, and she all but runs there.

She runs as fast as her legs will carry her, she runs as quick as her lungs can handle, she runs as swiftly as she is capable with dead weight resting like lead in her arms. She runs until she’s gasping for air and pushing the door open with her hip, until some man in a coat is taking the body from her arms and rushing through a door, until she’s fighting with a nurse to let her follow.

Until she’s collapsing in a chair, her head falling to her hands, tendrils and shimmering locks curtaining around her face as tears stream freely, finally. Finally, the weight in her arms is gone, but the weight on her shoulders, on her chest, on her heart only grows heavier.

It grows heavier as the image of a man-made lightning strike echoes in her mind, a broken tape that no amount of hitting the television will fix. It’s a constant stream of splintered memories, fractured feelings, erratic thoughts as purple and green and pink flicker behind sunrise eyes. A constant stream of a cracked and strained scream, of begging gasps, of heavy footfalls hurrying in a sprint cycling in her ears. A constant stream of throbbing thoughts, pounding feelings, aching words bobbing in a loop in her throat.

A constant stream of a nightmare, a haunting, wake-up-drenched-in-sweat, can-barely-breathe-afterwards nightmare. A nightmare that wasn’t supposed to exist, that wasn’t supposed to happen. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, not one bit, not in a single universe, not in any life was that supposed to happen.

That image wasn’t supposed to be stuck in Jessa’s mind as her whiskey girl sits somewhere else, but it is. It is, forever now, no matter what happens next, that’ll be forever there, trapped and pounding on the bars of it’s imprisonment for attention. It will forever be true that that happened, that that’s how it went.

That her body hit the ground.

[megatraven]

If you could have a poly/ot3 route with any two LIs (so the MC dates both of them and they date each other) which ones would you pick? 😁

i think i'd have to go with Alex x MC x Medusa for my top OT3 that i'd want! i already think about it a lot, it would just be so fantastic <333

but i'd also really REALLY enjoy:

Abel x MMC x Lucas Lucien x MC x Roman Vivienne x MC x Zoe Andi x MC x Lorelei Andi x MC x Juliette Antonio x MC x Diego (it would be so fucking funny) Alain x MC x Helena (but i dont want helena and alain dating each other tho) Mackenzie x MC x Annabelle who i know technically isn't an LI but 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 Aurora x Astoria MC x Medusa (this is a guilty pleasure ship tbh) Arin x FMC x Nora Jessa x Alien MC x Nav (but again i dont want Jessa and Nav dating each other) JD x MC x Razi (again. hilarious potential.) Jett x MC x Remy Renzei x MC x Zeke Cal x MC x Darius (AGAIN. WOULD BE VERY FUNNY.) Alex x MC x Hydra Alex x MC x Astraeus

im gonna stop before i just list every possible ot3 combo one could imagine :^) thanks for asking though, i really like indulging in my ot3s :)

[wlw-obsession]

Jessa's route is one of my favourites, I love how they've grown and opened up together and this line hit me right in the feels. They've come so far.

[jupitter-argento]

Space engagement rings

[maydrey-drawings]

@lovestruckvoltage

[alejandra-01]

I love it when Jessa is all bossy and sweet... I just love her so much

[jmojellybae]

Jessa S1 EP8