https://soyjakblog.com/threads/vivocuck-jimbo-x-Nagito Komaeda-drunken-beating-fanfiction.10902/Jimbo sat on the edge of the couch, his hands resting on his crotch, the room heavy with sounds of him jacking off. His body was sore, the marks from Terry’s rough treatment still fresh, though nothing compared to the weight of Satoko Houjou fan. Terry had been taking test again—Jimbo could always tell when things were about to spiral. He had tried to avoid it, to stay out of Terry’s way, but it had been unavoidable this time. Terry had been clitty leaking, aggressive, her words laced with cisfoid rage.
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Now, Terry was standing in front of him, her posture stiff from all the hrt. The alcohol still lingered in her breath, but there was something else—something softer, a shift that Jimbo had seen before. It was the cycle repeating itself. Jimbo bleeding from all the fights on the soybooru and the shroom, coming back for Terry to confort him, even as she had hurt him before.
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"I'm sorry," Terry muttered, her voice low and heavy with regret. "I don't know what came over me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, forgive me."
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Jimbo didn’t know how to respond. His heart ached, not from the physical pain but from the confusion that swirled in his chest. He only felt that type of emotion when he finished oneshot for the first time. He wanted to believe that Teresa was sumply feeding onto his dommy mommy fetish, not trying to intentionally hurt him. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t true.
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Terry knelt beside him, reaching out to gently take Jimbo’s hand. Her touch was tender, almost too gentle, as if to make up for all the elephants people spammed on jimbo's profile.
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"I love you, Jimbo. I’ll make it up to you. You know I’ll do anything for you, I might even buy you the Niko plush you wanted." Terry whispered, her eyes filled with that familiar sorrow, the one that always made Jimbo feel guilty for spending more time arguing with namecaca instead of cuddling with her.
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Jimbo closed his eyes, feeling the weight of those words like a blanket. The warmth of Terry’s embrace, the softness of her touch—it felt comforting in the moment. He could even feel he scars of the surgery on her tits.
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"Please," Terry continued, her voice shaking. "I can’t lose you. I won’t let this happen again. I swear. Please don't erp with any other pooners besides me."
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And in that moment, Jimbo wanted to believe her. He wanted to forget everything that had just happened, the cruel words, the pain, the fear. He wanted the tenderness back. He wanted the pooner he had fallen in love with, not the person who had hurt him.
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Terry’s lips brushed against Jimbo’s forehead, lingering there. Jimbo closed his T50 eyes, letting himself stop gooning and appreciate the warmth of the embrace, his body still trembling from his poor health. He didn’t know how to feel—how to know whether she was the charming girl of the schlog, or the monster of /qa/.
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For a brief moment, it almost felt like nothing ever happened. It almost felt like everything could be okay again. The kiss, the closeness, the reassurance—it was the calm after the storm. And Jimbo let himself be pulled back into the illusion that things could go back to normal, that they could go back to shitting up the 'log together. That they were still a couple in love, and this time, Terry really would be different.
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But deep down, Jimbo knew this wasn’t the end. He had been here before. He had heard these promises before. He knew that Terry could literally beat him up, dude.
