#komahina fanfiction

[breadflavouredlemon]

There's always this thing in komahina fanfics where Komaeda doesn't believe Hinata actually loves him. That trope is fine, nothing wrong with that of course. But the other way around always hits different.

Like what if he's just a substitute for Kamukura/another character? What if Komaeda only wants him because he has talent now? Or he's only staying with Hinata because he feels indebted to him? What if he's not special enough for him, that he's easily replaceable to the other? It pretty much has a lot of potential.

Hinata is just as complex as Komaeda is, and I swear, I'll eat anything up with Hajime-centric komahina angst. >:(

[1loer]

"He’d had his moment of reprieve. He’d lived his perfect, stress-free existence. Then, he’d woken up, Hinata leaning over him, smiling. And he was happy for it, of course he was. It was a deluded dream anyway. A life without talent…Komaeda really didn’t know how his mind conjured up these things sometimes. He was definitely better off awake. No, this existence was no dream, and it never could be. For that would be completely and utterly illogical. But for him, it would have to be good enough." Five times Komaeda avoided approaching Hinata, and the one time Hinata approached him. (or: Komaeda gets what he wants, but not in the way he needs it)

A post-canon komahina toxic yaoi fic sort of exploring Komaeda's messed up feelings towards Hinata and being alive again but mostly just Komaeda pining and being pathetic about it

[happyhex]

Messy but yeah

[enosasleep]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Dangan Ronpa Series Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Characters: Komaeda Nagito, Mioda Ibuki, Sonia Nevermind, Hinata Hajime, Pekoyama Peko, Nidai Nekomaru, Saionji Hiyoko, Utsugi Kotoko, Shingetsu Nagisa, Kemuri Jataro, Daimon Masaru (Dangan Ronpa) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Komaeda Nagito-centric, Friendship, Bonding, Guilt, established kmhn but its not the focus, one (1) very vague reference to sex, hinata is a loser and has beef with kids, Canon-Typical Self Esteem Issues Summary:

“He was so used to people ignoring his existence, it was hard to imagine, sometimes, that they could even remember his name.”

Nagito wasn’t familiar with friendship. He was even less familiar with hearing people say his given name.

Or, 7 times Nagito makes friends without realizing it, and 1 time they make something special for him.

[joz-yyh]

ALL TIED UP - ONESHOT

SUMMARY: Nagito helps Hajime discover that he has a bondage fetish. Takes place inside Hajime's cottage on Jabberwock Island after the conclusion of the first class trial in DR2: Goodbye Despair.

RATING: Explicit (for sexual themes / bondage)

PARING: HinaKoma / KomaHina

WORD COUNT: 3,000+

READ ON AO3: Here

A/N: This is my first HinaKoma/KomaHina fanfic so, I hope I did alright. I dedicate this story to the wonderful and talented yndr4hope because I absolutely adore their take on Hajime and Nagito's relationship! If you haven't played the DR fangames, I highly recommend you do!!

It was just passed sunset, a warm yellow fading into a sea of green before settling into a deep blue. Outside it was quiet, the white flicker of stars pinned across the darkening sky as the palm trees rustled from a small, fleeting breeze before becoming motionless again.

The shades to Hajime's cottage were drawn, the door was locked, but he still couldn't shake the fear that someone was watching, always watching.

Hajime closes his eyes and tries not to think of the cameras recording their every move, hopes that the pitch black darkness will mask who they are and what they are doing. He chooses to willfully ignore the sign post out front with his name on it and the telling story of his partner's clothes strewn across the floor. Anyone who bothers to examine the evidence would know their intentions exactly.

The sheets beneath his knees wrinkle as he drives his hips forward, the bed canopy swaying in time with his subtle thrusts. Never knowing who might walk by, Hajime keeps a discrete, steady tempo, affording them time to dress if there ever came a knock at the door, but this gentle pace he enforced upon himself slowly turns agonizing.

He wants to go faster, slam their hips together, grip the pale boy tighter until his porcelain skin bruised; and for a moment, Hajime allows himself the pleasure to do just that. The two boys gasp, the sensations becoming much more intense, but for some reason Hajime can only hear his own lewd sounds ring in his ears.

Even with something as trivial as this, it becomes dreadfully apparent that Nagito is holding in his voice much more than he should, wants his partner's cries of ecstasy to overshadow his own.

The spiky-haired boy looks down, about to fit his overly tame companion with an accusatory look, but when he does, he can't help admiring the ultimate lucky student spread out beneath him. His partner's body is almost ethereal, composed of milky white lines and sharp angles draped over the width of the disheveled bed. Wisps of wavy hair hang over his eyes, a blush coloring more places than just his face, his arms bound in an unconventional way within the sleeves of a button-down shirt.

Hajime knew this, having improvised a set of shackles for him to wear with the fabric of his school uniform. If anyone asks, he was simply keeping the troublesome albino in check, using what materials he had on hand to ensure his full cooperation and compliance. That's the excuse the spiky-haired boy was planning on using anyway.

Hajime internally curses everyone's idea to tie Nagito up in the first place. Considering his machinations in first trial, the brunette certainly understood why his friends locked him up, but it was because of Mahiru and the rest of the group that the image of Nagito chained down and helpless was permanently stuck inside his head. Hajime wasn't familiar with the term 'bondage' at the time, but Nagito was more than happy to supply him with the knowledge he craved.

In hindsight, it made sense why Nagito would be so eager to participate being the subservient type, but Hajime would have liked more time to mentally prepare before diving head-first into something so ... exotic.

They had barely touched upon the subject of Hajime's growing obsession with bondage when Nagito went on to talk about the connection between urges, attraction and kinks. Hajime grew so flustered just listening to his companion's lengthy explanations that he just couldn't stand it any longer.

"I had no idea seeing me all tied up had this big of an affect on you," he heard Nagito groan, breathless. There was a smugness to his voice, a revelry of delight in finding out something so scandalous about the spiky-haired brunette.

Hajime tugged on the makeshift collar around Nagito's neck, making it squeeze his delicate throat uncomfortably tight. The collar was made from Hajime's school necktie, another improvised tool that also functioned as a leash and worked comparatively well to the real thing.

Nagito shudders, grateful to be treated so roughly, wanting to be punished for speaking out of turn. It didn't seem like the albino learned his lesson though, because he speaks out again.

"Could it be, Hajime ... do you prefer ... seeing me in chains? Do you feel safer ... knowing I can't make a move against you?"

Hajime feels the flesh around his shaft tighten and he has to stop himself from crying out. His blunt nails dig a little deeper into the grooves of Nagito's jutting hips, hoping it would stop his arms from shaking.

"W-why should I answer that? It's not like ... you don't know."

He hears Nagito chuckle, clearly enjoying this.

"Forgive me. I only wanted to know what satisfies you. As atonement, I could bring real chains next time, duct tape, rope -"

"Oo-f course not!"

Hajime squeaked, his 'ahoge' twitching more and more as each item was listed off. Despite his current position on top, giving it to the other boy, the brunette felt like he was the one on the bottom being toyed with.

"You're right, that would be far too suspicious."

He sighed in relief. Good, at least Nagito agreed with him.

Hajime was grateful for the silence that creeps into the room after that. Finally, he could concentrate on perfecting his rhythm without getting distracted, but the reprieve didn't last long.

"You know ... this sort of thing ... can be dangerous," Nagito began, "As weak as I am, it would be easy for you to squeeze the life out me. If enough oxygen left my brain at a gradual enough rate, I might even go peacefully. I promise I won't struggle. Or maybe ... you would enjoy it more if i did?"

Nagito squirms, twisting himself so the necktie around his throat constricts him further, wanting his ultimate hope to tug on the restraints just a little harder and carry out his death. Hajime let the other talk, clenching his teeth as he listens to his partner's morbid thoughts, ultimately annoyed by that last comment.

"How many times do I have to tell you - that's not going to happen. As much as you believe it to be true, you're not trash I can throw away."

"How admirable... saying something like that to a person like me. But with my luck, it won't matter. One wrong move and we could end up be strangled together or crushed under the roof."

If Nagito was still able to prattle on about this sort of grotesque fantasy, Hajime clearly wasn't doing a good enough job. With a brutal thrust, the brunette pushes past taunt muscle, reaching all the way in to the hilt and holding it there.

Nagito chokes back a scream, convulsing from the pain before going rigid.

Hajime winces as well, feeling something hot and sticky pool around him and almost panics when he thought he smelled the coppery scent of blood.

"S-shit, I am s-sorry! I-I shouldn't have -" Hajime stutters, temporarily stunned by his own actions. He cups Nagito's cheek in apology, waiting for his friend's eyes to open, searching  his face for any signs of injury. He doesn't have to worry for very long, though. Judging from Nagito's expression, he was more than pleased by the sudden impulse of Hajime's technique.

"As expected, with a single thrust. You're truly amazing. Please use me to your hearts content," Nagito praises him lovingly.

Hajime feels his face burn up when those words reach his ears. The brunette thinks it's more accurate to describe Nagito's climax as a result of many thrusts in succession, rather than just a single, magnificent blow, but he kept the argument to himself. He still feels guilty about what he did, just not quite as much. The shorter boy turns his head away, not wanting to bear the weight of those gray, lust-filled eyes pleading with him.

 Please, break me completely.

"Typical, you just don't get it."

"Yes, how rude of me. It seems you still haven't --"

"No, that's not it."

Hajime's mind wonders, forming another outlandish thought. His lips are already parting, ready to speak the words before the logical side of his brain can convince him otherwise.

"How many times do you think you can cum before I do?"

Even Hajime can't believe his own mouth. The brunette is overcome with embarrassment, realization hitting him a little too late. He shared what was supposed to be a strictly private thought out loud and it was all Nagito's fault.

The taller boy's eyes widen from the admission as well, his own cheeks glowing bright red with embarrassment. He was witnessing a side of Hajime rarely seen and wondered what other repressed desires might exist inside the ultimate hope's personality, secretly dreams of a possible future where he could pry them to the surface.

"N-no, I am not worth the trouble."

Nagito tries to dismiss the subject, an automatic response drawn from his inferiority complex, but Hajime swallows his partner's next words with a kiss, hastily putting an end to any more disparaging talk. Unfortunately, he misjudged the distance between them and with more force than what he intended, smashed their lips together.

Knowing that it was too harsh to be considered anything romantic, Hajime eases back, softening his touch near the end of their kiss before pulling away.

"Shh," Hajime chastises, "Wasn't it you that said, 'please use me to you're hearts content,' just now?"

"Y-yes, b-but you see... t-that was-s..." He trails off, choosing to finish what he was going to say inside the safety of his head.

Now Hajime was getting somewhere. Nagito was fumbling, vulnerable, and it fueled Hajime's confidence. The green-eyed boy smirks. If he can distract Nagito from his self-depreciating tendencies, if only temporarily, by rendering him an incomprehensible mess, then he was going to do it.

"I know this is a little backwards, but please enjoy it."

Hajime withdrew himself from Nagito's slick heat, knowing he wasn't going to last long if he remained inside. Nagito mewls at the loss. He enjoys the sensation of being filled, but submits to the empty, hollow feeling with a forlorn look.

Hajime squeezes the base of the others boy's erection, licking the tip, tasting the essence he finds there, before taking him partially into his mouth. Nagito raises his voice just a little too loud when he calls out his partner's name.

"Ha-ah-h-hajime!"

It's a pitiful sound, one that's full of surprise, reprimand and adoration and Hajime feels like he's gained the upper hand. If Nagito thought he was joking before about giving him multiple orgasms, he was about to prove him wrong.

He takes more of Nagito's shaft into his mouth, trying to mimic the motions the other boy often performed on him. It's true that most of the time their roles were reversed, but Hajime hoped his limited experience was enough to return the favor, not that he could let apprehension get the best of him now.

Feeling bold, Hajime rubs a finger around Nagito's opening, slipping it inside to take a few experimental thrusts. He quickly adds a second finger, the cleft of skin there offering little resistance having been stretched with something bigger only a few moments ago.

Hajime curled his fingers, trying to find that special bundle of nerves. His efforts seem to pay off as Nagito twitched, becoming overly responsive to the smallest touch. Hajime could feel the heat of his own need collecting in his stomach, but he fought the urge to touch himself. Instead, he sucked his partner harder, mouth and tongue racing against his fingers to see which one could fuck Nagito faster.

"I don't know if I can-" the taller boy gasps, his chest heaving and desperate for air, trying in vain to hide his voice in the fabric wrapped around his wrists.

Bony hips jump off the mattress with the strength of his orgasm, unable to control his body as he releases into Hajime's mouth.

Hajime licks his lips, wiping the excess off with the back of his hand. He makes a check mark on his mental tally. That's two.

Wasting no time, the brunette reposition them. He flips Nagito over onto his stomach, albeit a little awkwardly. The ultimate lucky student feels unnaturally heavy in Hajime's arms as he slides back inside, Nagito shuddering as he accepts his full length.

"I-I knew you were cruel." Nagito teases, giggling to himself, barely holding it together.

Admittedly, Hajime was impatient. He was about to reach his peak several times, but was holding out for the sake of trying one more thing.

Lifting up his partner's backside, Hajime switches to sitting on his knees, pulling Nagito into his lap. He aims for that glorious spot between slim thighs with quick, deliberate thrusts. He wants to make Nagito see stars one more time, but Hajime can't wait, the pressure building inside his cock was unbearable.

The two collapse onto the bed, both of them spent.

Hajime closes his eyes and let's the weightless feeling run it's course throughout his body, numbing his limbs. When he opens his eyes again, the room was a collection of shadows, vague outlines, shapes of black, grey and purple.

Hajime turns to face Nagito, realizing in the dim light that his partner was still without the use of his hands thanks to the improvised shackles. Dazedly, Hajime untangles the fabric, throwing the rumpled garment off towards the side of the bed. He debates on whether or not he should remove the necktie too, but seeing how it wasn't posing a threat, merely dangling loosely, he left it right where it was. Besides, he liked the idea of Nagito wearing something of his.

Nagito whines as he tests his mobility, his arms feeling stiff and raw from being stuck in the same position for too long. Shakily, he put his free hands around Hajime's neck, kissing his face.

Hajime shifts closer, hands reaching out to pull the other boy's slim body flush against his. Their sensitive flesh brushes against each other and Nagito flinches, still sore and overstimulated.

"We should try this more often. Let's use a blindfold and a whip next time! The risk involved will surely double."

Hajime has no idea how his lover could still have this much stamina after everything they did tonight. He nips the skin closest to his teeth, a harmless punishment for Nagito's display of excess energy and horrible sense of humor. Hajime buries his nose in the crook of his partner's shoulder, inhaling his scent, feeling Nagito's laugh rumble against his cheek. Hajime's tongue darts out to lick the sheen of sweat collecting there, giving the same spot an apologetic kiss. He tastes salt and antiseptic.

"It's getting late. I should head back." Nagito says regretfully.

"No...," Hajime says, his hazel eyes narrowing dangerously, acting as if he might cry, "... not yet."

Hajime held Nagito in place almost possessively, not allowing the other boy to get up. The brunette told himself it was because he was warm and comfortable, but what he really wants is to protect Nagito from himself or anyone else who might cause him harm. Call it poor judgement, but he suddenly didn't care if they got caught and their relationship was exposed. He resolved to never let Nagito experience another tragedy alone.

Hajime growled in warning, sensing the taller boy was about to make another attempt to leave.

Nagito couldn't help laughing at something so childish. Hajime was acting as if someone was trying to steal his precious teddy bear away from him.

"It's OK," The ultimate lucky student reassured him, "See?"

Hajime loosened his grip, allowing Nagito to pull the bedsheet up over them.

Still laughing, Nagito leaned into his partner's chest, his damp skin now slightly cooled from the brief moment he was gone, causing him to shiver.

"As long as I can be of use to you, there may be a purpose for me after all."

Too exhausted to correct his partner's poor self-esteem, Hajime drifted off to sleep.

-----

At some point in the evening, Nagito did leave the cottage, evidenced by the cool and vacant spot beside him. Hajime felt a pang of loneliness in his chest, disappointed that he didn't wake up in time to wrestle the albino back into bed. The brunette's hand curled into a fist, batting it against the empty, unoccupied pillow.

Dammit.

It was still a couple hours before the Monokuma morning announcement and even though he probably needed the rest, he didn't feel like going back to sleep. Hajime turned over to lay on his side, arm propping up his head from beneath the pillow as he stared pointedly across the room.

 'We should try this more often'

Nagito's words from last night rang inside his head.

 Fuck, not again.

As soon as he feels his cock react, he knows how he's going to spend the next 20 minutes. The brunette slips his free hand down his torso, gripping his growing erection.

 '... blindfold and a whip ...'  

He thinks about how Nagito would look wearing a proper leather collar and blindfold, how black restraints and silver studs would contrast beautifully against his naked form. Rather than a whip, Hajime would use his hands and mouth to leave marks of red and blue across the expanse of snowy-white skin.

Hajime strokes himself faster, imagining how thick, heavy chains could easily weigh Nagito down, submitting - kneeling - to his every whim. Not that he needed restraints for that. Nagito would gladly obey his orders if Hajime simply asked him to.

With just a few more pumps of his hand, Hajime finishes, grabbing a tissue to clean himself off.

Dammit.

Hajime instantly reprimands himself, blaming Nagito's masochistic tendencies for these strange fixations, but hell if he wasn't enabling him.

With a spell of self-encouragement, he slapped the sides of his face with his hands, ready to accept his fate.

Yosh!

With renewed vigor, Hajime showered and got dressed. He had to a very important meeting to attend today that involved Nagito, the Supermarket and a shopping list of some choice commodities.

-----

Outside, along the grass-edge of the pathway to Hajime's cottage, the bushes rustled in time with the wind. Mahiru scrolled through the pictures on her digital camera, conflicted. She had a hunch there was something suspicious going on with those two and now she knew enough to fill up an entire gossip magazine.

It took her awhile to come to a decision, but she settles on deleting the photos, all of them except for one. Out of every picture she took of Hajime and Nagito together, this one was her favorite. The exposure was much too bright and the composition could be better, but that's what she liked about it - how well the photo suited the both of them.

[komacoma]

Chapter 1 is officially here

Will have multiple chapters which I will post updates about on here in addition to my art

[crazy-together-reddie]

who else has this weird phobia to fanfictions in the first person?

cause i just started a new one and i was like ‘wow this is well written’ but then ten pages in i was like SHIT ‘I’.

it feels wrong and i can’t explain why cause i’m fine with books in the first person but not fanfictions.

[lilypadding]

the komaeda bodypillow

Crossposted on AO3 | Word count: ~3.5k | Credit for divider

⋆ pairing: hajime hinata x nagito komaeda

Summary: Wherein Hajime stresses about Nagito taking longer to wake up from the Neo World Program.

There is a body pillow of Nagito Komaeda. 

Now, Hajime wouldn’t have known that before this afternoon. In fact, he probably would’ve never found out about such an item— or ever had to touch it— or interact with it at all. 

And the idea of living in that blissful ignorance sounds heavenly. But, unfortunately, it’s unattainable. The ignorant world in which Nagito Komaeda’s body pillow goes undiscovered is out of reach for as long as Hajime holds the same pillow in his hands. So, he drops it with a loud:

“Oh my fucking God—“

The pillow lands on the floor of Hajime’s cottage. Makoto and Hina laugh sheepishly on the other end of the video call. 

“Ah, yeah, I figured you’d react like that…” Makoto says, clearly a bit embarrassed.

The palms of Hajime’s hands press into his eyes. He groans, loudly, maybe too loudly, to get his point across.

“What the fuck did I just lay my eyes on?” Hajime’s rhetorical question is pointless. He was hoping for Makoto to deny what he just saw— to somehow clear everything up, to cleanse the air and state that it’s not a fucking body pillow and that Nagito’s goddamn face and body wasn’t on it. 

“It’s a body pillow,” Makoto says instead; Hajime dissipates into himself, “Of Nagito.”

“Why.” Hajime finally lifts his hands off of his own face and stares into the computer screen. His face is burning red by now. He can feel that the pillow is right over his feet and he refuses to offer it a second glance. 

“Well, I mean,” Makoto shrugs heartily and rubs the back of his neck. Hina is sitting to his left, and her grin is undeniably more than amused. 

“I noticed that you’ve been having a hard time,” Makoto finally finishes, and somehow, his sincere smile makes everything feel that much worse, “And I figured you’d like something related to him.”

“And a body pillow was what your bright mind came up with?” Hajime’s face sours considerably. “You could’ve gotten me, like, a photo of him! Or, I-I don’t know! Anything but a…”

He finally looks down. The sight of Nagito— albeit, impressively well drawn— staring up at him with a small grin makes something in his stomach twist uncomfortably. This is downright creepy. 

“Oh my God,” Hajime draws out, grimacing. His pose… 

One of Nagito’s arms is draped over his head, sinking into the drawn lines of the sheets presumably beneath him. His other arm is covering his torso, and why on Earth is the hem of his shirt hiked up to expose part of his stomach—

“Who drew this?” Hajime tears his eyes off the pillow. 

“Oh, Ryota did!” Hina chimes in, her voice fighting off the urge to break into hearty laughter.

She’s clearly having fun. It makes Hajime want the Earth to swallow him whole. 

“Ryota?”

“Oh, yeah, he was a great help!” Makoto smiles, somehow proud of saying it. Somehow proud that he supplied Hajime with something so… questionable. 

“Makoto,” Hajime leans closer to the computer, propping an arm on the table holding it, “This is not a good present.”

Makoto and Hina both break into laughter at that. Hajime’s too busy in the thought of how embarrassing this item is to own, to have, to touch. What if someone finds out about this? 

“Seriously, why…”

“Listen, Hajime,” Makoto’s laughter has let up. The smile he wears is sweet. It makes Hajime want to pound his skull into a wall.

“I know I could’ve gotten you photos of him,” He continues, sincerity seeping out of his words, “But… you can’t do much with photos, y’know? If I gave you photos, all you’d do is stare at them and think too much. I wanted to get you something more tangible. Something you could hold.”

“Aha,” Hajime breaks into laughter, lost in disbelief, “Huh? Tangible? Hold? I- You’re acting like I need emotional support right now…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him. They look at each other. Then back at him.

“O-Okay, fine,” Hajime caves at their looks, “Maybe I do. But, I mean, don’t you think this is—“

He points at the pillow at his feet. They can’t see it from the angle of the webcam, but he refuses to touch it again.

“—Too far? An entire body pillow of him? I mean, you’re acting like I’m obsessed with the guy…”

Makoto and Hina stare at him again. They look at each other again. Then back at him.

“No,” Hajime immediately shuts down, “I’m not obsessed with him.”

“Well…” Makoto and Hina start at a high pitched voice. 

“I’m not!”

“Okay, you’re not,” Makoto agrees weakly, “But you’re clearly concerned about him.”

Hajime scoffs, “I— yeah, who wouldn’t be?”

“Hajime, you visit his pod every morning and night,” Hina says, her voice quiet and concerned. It’s almost condescending. 

“Because I want to be there when he wakes up!” Hajime says like it’s obvious, but his voice sort of dies when he finishes the sentence, “I mean- it’s been—“

“Three months,” Makoto finishes for him. Hajime’s thought process freezes in place. 

Has it really only been three months? Shit… 

“Since Hiyoko woke up, right?” Hina doesn’t ask anyone in particular. Makoto and Hajime nod. 

“And he’s the last one,” Hajime supplies emptily. “I thought he’d wake up a bit after Hiyoko, because everyone woke up within a few weeks of each other, but… nothing. He's still asleep.”

Those last words come out a lot angrier than anticipated. He almost regrets it, but he remembers every time that he’s woken up at odd hours of the night. Every time that the thought of Nagito waking up anytime soon bugged him enough to go down there himself. Every time he’d stared into his sleeping face. And every time he’d fallen asleep while there, slouched in the chair he dragged near the pod. 

It’s been happening a lot more recently. 

He didn’t need to do it. In fact, if Nagito were to wake up, he would be the first person to know. He set up the pod to signal an alarm device, which had been sitting on his nightstand since he made it. Like a baby monitor, but for comatose arsonists. 

Still, the idea of being able to be there right when Nagito opens his eyes is a lot more appealing than seeing him when his eyes have already opened.  

“Hey, cheer up!” Hina calls out, casting Hajime out of his thoughts, “He’s going to wake up, y’know. It’s just a matter of time.”

He almost laughs in her face but his self control proves stronger than expected. Just a matter of time. How many times has he heard that sentence now? How many times has he used it to reassure himself, despite how stupid he felt? 

“Yeah,” He agrees. How many times has he agreed to it anyways?

Hajime looks at the body pillow again. Nagito’s drawn smile is a bit daunting to stare at. But…

“Why did you have to pose him like that…” Hajime scans Nagito’s body. 

Hina giggles as Makoto starts talking:

“Posed like what? He looks like he’s relaxing.”

“He looks like he wants to fuck me,” Hajime argues with a flat voice. Hina goes into a new fit of hysterics while Makoto snorts. 

“Ryota drew him quite accurately, then,” Makoto says. It sends Hina into doubling over.

“What?” Hajime frowns into the computer screen.

“Anyways, if I’m being honest,” Makoto fights through a laugh, “I don’t know. I commissioned Ryota for a body pillow, and that’s what he gave me.”

“D-Do you even know what a body pillow is?” Hajime gapes. Hina finally starts calming down. 

“Um, no,” Makoto admits, scratching his cheek, “I wanted to get you a small plushie of him, actually. But that would’ve taken a lot longer to make, and it’d require resources we don’t have right now.”

“Y-You don’t even know the implications of having a body pillow of someone?” Hajime’s voice raises a few pitches higher than usual. 

“What? I mean, the worst thing you can do to a pillow is hug it…”

Lord. 

“It’s a harmless gift!” Hina insists with a bright smile, “I’m sure you’ll look back at this and laugh. Maybe you can even show it to Nagito once he wakes up!”

“I…” The idea of showing this to the living and breathing Nagito Komaeda is less than appealing. Many, many levels less than appealing. He doesn’t want to imagine how he’d react. Or act. Knowing him, though, he’d probably offer a weirdly knowing smirk to Hajime, teasing him without having to say a word.

God. Even the Nagito in his head is mocking him. Annoying. 

“Wow, did I break you?” Hina leans into the screen, her voice more prominent, “You’re red.”

“No!” Hajime fumbles and waves his hands, denying her, “I just thought of something.”

Hina seems unimpressed by the excuse as Makoto begins talking again.

“Well, we’ll let you go,” He says with a smile, “A meeting is coming up, and me and Hina both have to be there. We just wanted to quickly check in on you.”

“And get me to react to the worst gift ever…”

“Man, I hope you don’t hate me,” Makoto rubs the back of his neck, an embarrassed blush sprawling on his face. “Well, we’ll check in next week, okay?”

“Yeah!” Hina chirps up, “See you then, Haji!”

“Mhm.”

“Have fun with the pillow!” She sing-songs, and before Hajime can let out a stuttering mess of protesting syllables, the call ends and their faces disappear. 

A sick and nervous feeling rides up his stomach as he processes the call.

Shame explodes in his chest when he looks down at the body pillow again.

Nagito Komaeda, animated, and posed a little too languidly stares up at nothing in particular. It’s hard to look at his face, because he’s grinning in a weirdly flirty way and he’s lively and it’s the last kind of expression that Hajime wants to see on a drawing of someone that’s been in a coma for a little too long. So, Hajime tries to stare at his chest instead. As if it made the idea of picking him up off the floor any easier. 

Christ. It’s just a pillow. 

Hajime kneels on the ground and grabs the top corners of it, hauling it up in his arms. The end of the pillow shuffles the lengthy box on the floor that it had been delivered in, knocking it on its side with a miserable flop. Holding it like this, the top of the pillow is just about level with his height, and the bottom barely scrapes the ground. Life size.

Disgusting. But just a pillow.

Hajime can’t shake the tense feeling of hugging it to his chest in this way. Like he’s admitting defeat and accepting the fact that this is fine in any way. As if hugging the incarnate pillow version of Komaeda is socially acceptable. The idea of anyone finding out he owns this crosses his mind and sends a cold breeze down his spine. He should throw it away. Any sensible person would. 

But it was a gift from Makoto. Albeit, misguided and naive. It would be rude to burn something… heartfelt. 

With a dissatisfied huff, Hajime twists in his place and makes his way to his bed— halting the second that his eyes catch his reflection in his full length mirror across the room. 

“What the—”

He hadn’t seen the other side of the pillow until now. It’d been facedown on the ground for the entire video call, and its existence had gone completely unnoticed. But it’s hard to disregard when it is staring back at him from the mirror. 

Hajime hurriedly pushes the pillow away from him, maintaining it at arm’s length and flipping it around. When the sight hasn’t disappeared and is instead staring back at him, his jaw drops. 

On this side, there’s a shift in Nagito’s pose. His head is turned to one side, offering a clear view of a side profile, an undeniable red flush drawn over his face. One of his hands is pressed over his mouth and cheek, palm facing up, as if defensively covering himself. His other arm is in a similar position to the first version of him, but his shirt is hiked up higher, leaving room for his pale hand to rest on his exposed torso. Hajime freezes at the sight, unable to move. Discomfort flickers in Hajime’s chest and his eyes avert the image immediately. Hajime’s stomach flips nervously and he rushes to flip the pillow around, refusing to give the drawing a second look. 

Seeing Nagito in any state like that felt wrong. Even if it was some drawing. 

Drawing. Ryota really had to draw all that, didn’t he?

-

“Well, n-no, I didn’t,” Ryota is fumbling over his words, his voice soft enough to nearly go unheard. He’s fidgeting with his own fingers, unable to maintain proper eye contact with Hajime. For brief moments in time, his hands find the tweed sweater he’s wearing only to pick at it.

Hajime sighs through his nose, looking around them. They’re walking near the pool of the hotel lobby, right after Ryota had joined the group for breakfast. Everyone had peppered him with questions about his life at Future Foundation, the conversation keeping a semblance of politeness. 

Words and mentions about the killing school life and high school memories went mostly unspoken, even now. Everyone’s voices always hesitate before bringing it up, and the conversations about it always end so quickly that it’s like they never started. So, they welcome their former classmate with open arms, infinitely opting for the positives instead of the past they can’t erase. 

After everyone finished their meals, they had scattered and pawned off private conversations with Ryota as if he were a valuable item, Hajime finally got to claim some time with him for himself by trailing after him from the diner. 

Ryota didn’t seem to mind at all— that is, until Hajime was glaring at him, refusing to let up. And Ryota didn’t have to ask why. 

“Then why did you have to draw him like— like that?” Hajime mutters in a low voice, despite the fact that the pool area was empty and bare, and no one was around to eavesdrop. Ryota stops in his tracks and spins around, his eyes drooping and stance slouching. The bright sun beats down on them, clouds having barely parted from the morning rain. 

“Listen, I was really weirded out with the commission at first,” Ryota replies, his voice still trembling, eyes darting. Wind picks up around them and Ryota’s hair flips into his face. “But who was I to question it? Makoto said he wanted a body pillow, so I complied.”

“Okay, well, didn’t he tell you it was for me?”

“Um, no, not until I finished drawing it…”

Hajime laughs, exasperated, facepalming with both hands. 

“Listen!” Ryota hurries the words out of him, “I offered to redraw it. I really did. But Makoto looked at it himself and said it was fine.”

“What?”

“Y-Yeah. I mean, he kind of laughed, but said that it works fine. I even asked him if he’s shown the work-in-progress to you. When he said it was for you, I thought you’d commissioned it—”

“Why would you assume that?!”

“Makoto didn’t clarify that you didn’t know about until he shipped it out! I thought you wanted one, like, for real.”

“I— No! I never— Why— Why would I—”

“I don’t know!” Ryota protests, his shoulders hiking up, “I didn’t question it, okay? It’s just a commission. A weird one, but I’ve drawn weirder, so it really didn’t matter.”

“D-Didn’t you feel even weirder knowing this is a real person? That you’ve talked to before?”

“Uh, I tried not to think about that. Seriously, though, it’s not that weird.”

A new voice joins: “What’s weird?”

“Gah—!” Hajime jolts and spins around, hurriedly backing away. “S-Soda.”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Yes, a million times, yes.

“No. Not at all.”

Fuck.

“Cool,” Soda grins happily, “What were you guys talking about? Some weird thing?”

Hajime’s heart sinks to his stomach. 

“Ah—”

“It’s just about a commission I made for Hajime,” Ryota says, far too casually, way too easily. Hajime shoots him a death glare. Ryota crumbles in on himself at the look, and starts stuttering,

“I-I mean, it’s—”

“A commission!” Soda pronounces, clearly impressed, “Man, I really wanna see more of your art.”

He turns to Hajime, his pink hair swaying, and asks: “What’d you commission him for?”

Hajime freezes. And is probably visibility deflating. 

“Oh. It’s— nothing, really—”

“Just a pillow.”

Ryota. 

“A pillow?” Soda gives the two of them a deeply confused frown, but focuses on Ryota, “Um, I thought you did animations and drawings, that sorta shit.”

“I-I made some artwork for a pillow.”

“It’s really nothing!” Hajime yells despite himself. Ryota and Soda both stare at him as he fumbles, fighting to continue. 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Hajime can’t look them in the eyes, “I just found his drawings calming, and— I thought it might help me get more sleep at night, if his art was… in front of me…”

The excuse dissipates into the air, vaporizing alongside Hajime’s weakened voice. He clears his throat when both of them don’t say anything.

Soda walks up to him, but Hajime keeps his eyes away, trained on the ground.

A warm hand meets his shoulder, and Hajime has to force himself to look up. 

“You haven’t been able to sleep well, huh?” Soda’s face is genuinely compassionate and concerned. Hajime jerks at the sincerity, shrinking in on himself, a rise of embarrassment clouding his mind. 

“Yeah,” Soda nods slowly, his voice quiet. He stays silent for a second before tightening his hold on Hajime’s shoulder, reconnecting their gaze. 

“If you ever need to talk, I’m here, okay?”

Hajime feels frozen in place by the intensity of the eye contact, but manages a feeble nod regardless. 

Soda smiles softly and nods, letting go of him and saying:

“You’ve been having some trouble with Nagito, right?”

“Huh?” 

“When he’s gonna wake up,” Soda supplies, shrugging easily, “Well, at this rate, if he’s going to wake up.”

Hajime swallows a lump in his throat.

“Ah, sorry,” Soda forces a smile, “I shouldn’t say that. Actually, you shouldn’t even worry about it! He has ultimate luck, after all. So he’s sure to wake up. Well, unless it’s luckier not to wake up from the dream he’s having…”

Hajime blinks at Soda. 

Soda blinks at Hajime. 

“I’m not helping, am I?” Soda says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Hajime can’t bring himself to respond. 

“Shit, man, sorry,” Soda winces at himself, “Don’t give such a sad look! Cheer up. He’ll wake up. I mean, all of us woke up. He just has more—”

“Mental instability,” Hajime emptily chants. The words have been used to describe Komaeda’s state (and the reason for remaining in the pod for so long) so often that they’ve drilled a permanent stop in Hajime’s head. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Soda mutters, shaking his head, “Plus, his—”

“Health complications,” Hajime emptily fills in again, “I know.”

“Hey, c’mon!” Soda nudges Hajime’s side. He winces at the hard touch, but Soda continues, “You’ve said that if he wakes up, there’s a chance his body’ll be better! That’s something to look forward to, huh?”

Hajime stares at him. Soda is acting impossibly optimistic.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Hajime nods, clearly not assured of himself. Soda takes it anyways. 

“Right on!” Soda grins, clearly satisfied. Soda turns to Ryota and shoots him a grin while Hajime recuperates, having realized Ryota had been there the entire time. 

“Well, I’m off,” Soda announces, throwing up his hands and beginning to walk off, “I’ll talk to you later, Hajime!”

Hajime nods at him shortly, unable to get his voice to work, before returning his attention to Ryota. 

Ryota stares at him, offering absolutely no reaction for the conversation that just occurred. But it looked like he was forcing himself not to react, which was slightly annoying. 

Hajime takes a breath, tosses a glance at Soda’s retreating figure, and looks back at Ryota. 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Hajime asks. 

“U-Um, what do you mean?”

“The way that I worry about Nagito,” Hajime immediately regrets the word worry, “Everyone’s acting like I’m obsessed with him or something.”

Ryota blinks at him. “Well…”

“Oh my God,” Hajime shakes his head, exasperation slapping him across the face. “You guys- You guys are impossible. Just because I care about the guy. Unlike everyone else, apparently. Just because I’m worried for him, I’m obsessed with him, right?”

He begins to walk away with a final, “Don’t bother answering that.”

Ryota doesn’t reply or follow Hajime back to his cottage. 

[quillscales]

Nagito pressed his forehead between Hajime's shoulder blades, his eyelashes fluttering feather-light kisses on his skin. Being so close, he could smell the body wash Hajime used, and as he inhaled deeply, he caught the scent of coconut and ylang-ylang mixed with the tang of sweat.

His hand wandered along Hajime's sides, his fingertips barely ghosting the skin. It still felt surreal that he was allowed to touch Hajime like this.

His eyes lifted a little when he heard the sheets sliding; Hajime moved his head, resting it more comfortably on his arms. Nagito's hand drifted towards his hips, curving inward until his fingers were just inches away from Hajime's navel. There was a soft sigh, and he felt Hajime relax under him; it was hard not to preen at such an accomplishment.

He pressed his fingers a little firmer against Hajime's abdomen, rubbing and massaging the muscles there. This was a gift, truly, Hajime allowing him to put his hand on him once again. Nagito pressed his lips to Hajime's skin; it was barely a kiss, but it was a taste of what he wanted.

His hand slid upwards, tracing along the abs softly cushioned by a small layer of fat. Nagito was sure if he pressed harder, he would feel how firm they were, but he didn't stop trailing up toward Hajime's armpit.

Hajime stirred, "…Don't." was the soft warning he got. It seemed Hajime might be ticklish, and Nagito filed that away for later.

Nagito slowly rose, placing his hand on Hajime's shoulder blade as he sat back on his legs, careful to keep his weight off the man under him, though he was sure Hajime could handle it. He didn't weigh much, and Hajime had so much muscle.

He tapped his finger at the base of Hajime's neck and slowly dragged it down the faint scar he had been obsessing with since he noticed it.

By the time he reached the end, Hajime had stiffed up completely. Nagito removed his hands and looked away.

There was a beat of silence.

"…Ask," Hajime said cooly, his tone calm and detached.

Nagito bit his lip before shaking his head, though Hajime couldn't see that. "…I shouldn't." He whispered. It was something painful, Nagito knew, and he wasn't entitled to everything that was Hinata Hajime, even if he wanted it.

There was a desire to dissect him. To know him completely. To crawl into his skin and understand every aspect of his being.

[breadflavouredlemon]

From now on, I’m gonna reenact all my own/favorite kmhn fics with these plushies ✨✨

[1loer]

it's finally happened. I've finally started posting my silly little danganronpa fanfiction.

this is a culmination of a year's worth of insanity. i regret nothing.

"Stuck here in the silence, too stubborn to break it even for his own sake because fuck Komaeda, all Hajime had to do to fill his time was to think back on the last year of his life and wonder what he’d done to deserve this. If Hajime was to trace it back, he’d say the day it all went wrong was that first party." Hajime Hinata hates himself, but he's pretty sure he hates Komaeda more, and that has to count for something. (or: the coming of age story Hajime Hinata deserves)

[axclotls]

hello danganronpa tumblr!

i am in desperate need of your help to find these komahina fics 🥹🥹 !! some time in 2021, these were active fics that i was reading. i don't know if they've concluded, as i just stopped reading them after eventually moving on from danganronpa. i recently got back into it, and i cannot get these fics out of my head. i really want to re-read them and see if they've ever been concluded. please help me find them? 🙏

these are fics on ao3! that, i am certain of. i have these short summaries of the plots that i still recall, but i haven't been able to recall the titles. i've tried to search for them like this, but i haven't found any luck. funny enough, i had a dream last night that someone on danganronpa amino had answered this same query i posted on there. but unfortunately, the fic names are nothing but a blur in my head after waking up 🥲 so, i'm trying my luck here!

anyway, the plots i was talking about:

1. hajime is part of a punk rock band and nagito is a harajuku model. sonia runs a boutique with nagito and some of the other girls (and they're also all models) and they live right on top of it. if i recall correctly, sonia also has a love interest in hajime's band, but i can't recall if it's kazuichi or gundham. i remember there being a scene where they all get invited over to hajime's place after a show?? and they party?? something like that lol??

2. nagito is a fox? but he can turn human? he's like a white fox and hajime finds him in his forest backyard. he let's him in one day and takes care off him while his parents are away, and he finds that nagito turned human one day. i think chiaki plays a crucial role here too? not sure anm tbh 🥹

3. a fic where nagito is chiaki's guardian angel and hajime is some kinda demon?? and iirc, sonia is a demon too and she's dating gundham i think?

please, if you know any of these fics, let me know the title 🥹 i am desperate, and i need to read them again 🙏

thank you! 🫶

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Matsuda Yasuke wasn't killed by Enoshima Junko at the end of dr0. Instead he survives to the point where he ends up joining the 77-B Class in the NWP. When an already unwanted island vacation of forced camaraderie goes even more awry with the announcement of a killing game, let's just see how long this sharp-tongued brainiac is going to last before he loses his goddamn mind. Thankfully, he's on the smarter side so things should be better than before, right? Right? (Spoilers: Nope.)

Author: @magioftheseas

[happyshippingnoises]

Tfw your crush that you banged but also killed his father finds out:

For context this is my mafia komahina au fanfic drawn out. (I did NOT do the smut bits)

Also they're covered in dirt not shit I swear

[takjdidoprdele]

That feeling when you would like write a fanfic or chatfic or just post stuff with some kind of story but...

You: have no motivation, are procrastinating on daily basis, are lazy af, once you start a story you don't know how to continue, have no ideas and most importantly English isn't your native language so it would be pain in the ass for the readers.

Like I would like to actually create something but I have a FEW issues. I used to update and write fanfics in my native language quite regularly but I was in fucking elementary school so it was shit and also ✨life✨happened.

So shitposting is the way to go for me Ig.

[vegafiction]

Words: 129+K Pairing(s): Komahina; Soudham Fandom: Danganronpa (all)

Warning(s): N/A Read Here: Chapter 25

snippet below!

Hajime sleeps like the dead, though Nagito isn’t surprised.

He sleeps through the day and into the night, barely moving an inch. The closest bit of movement Nagito saw was when Hajime moved his head from his cheek to facing forward. It’s the only other sign of life Nagito gets through the night and it’s enough to quell his building anxiety. Hajime’s breathing is subtle, but if Nagito stares at him long enough, he can make out the gentle rise and fall of Hajime’s chest.

All of these small signs of life bring him comfort.

He’s not dead or in a coma. He’s just… sleeping.