vongola / allies - m!katekyo hitman reborn x chubby fem!reader
You fail to properly pin him down and get your karma right away
featuring. tyl!tsunayoshi sawada, tyl!hayato gokudera, tyl!takeshi yamamoto, tyl!ryohei sasagawa, 20yl!lambo, tyl!kyoya hibari, tyl!mukuro rokudo, tyl!spanner, tyl!shoichi irie, tyl!chikusa kakimoto, tyl!ken joshima, dr. shamal cw/tags (19+ Only | Minors DNI). wife!reader, failed!sneak attacks/pinning, getting pinned in return by most, flirting, banter, mild humor, some suggestive dialogue, largely sfw
TYL!Tsunayoshi Sawada
You waited until he was on the couch with his tie loosened, completely absorbed in a report before you threw yourself across his lap, seized both of his wrists, and shoved them toward the armrest with everything you had.
You held him down for maybe a full second. Which was a new personal record.
His hips shifted with one leg braced against the floor and your entire axis flipped so smoothly you didn't process the motion until your back was already sinking into the cushions with both your wrists gathered in one of his hands above your head. His free hand still held his report while his thumb kept his page.
He looked down at you with genuine confusion.
"Was that... were you trying to pin me?"
"What did it look like, Tsuna?"
"Honestly? I thought you tripped." he laughed softly, though it died short seeing your frustration.
He set his report on the armrest and resettled his grip on your wrists more deliberately, his thumb resting right against your pulse. He shifted forward and the full, focused weight of his attention landed on you in a way that somehow made your failed ambush worth it.
"Your hips gave it away. You lean left before you commit every time." His head tilted to study your face as your frustration began to ease. "Try dropping your center of gravity first and you might actually have a chance."
"Are you seriously coaching me right now?"
"Probably counterproductive, yeah." His eyes tracked from your face downward with absolutely no rush, and he settled more of his weight against you, enough to make your breath hitch. "Your heart is going really fast."
"Because I just got judo-flipped on my own couch!"
"I barely moved."
"That just makes it worse and you know it."
His forehead dropped to yours and he stayed there, breathing you in, thumbs still circling your pulse.
"Try again after dinner. I'll give you a head start."
"I hate you."
"Mm. Your heart rate says otherwise."
TYL!Hayato Gokudera
He was leaning against the kitchen counter scrolling through his phone when you struck, hooking your foot behind his ankle and shoving both palms flat against his chest.
His phone clattered to the tile and his back hit the counter's edge. You grabbed his wrists and bore down with your full weight, pinning them against the granite. Or so you thought.
Gokudera stared at you and you stared back, triumphant, before he moved so fast your vision blurred.
You suddenly found your cheek pressed against cool granite with both arms bent behind your back, his chest flush against your back.
"The hell was that?" he snapped, slightly out of breath. Not from exertion but from the adrenaline you just dumped into his bloodstream.
"It was a surprise attack! You're supposed to be impressed!"
"You knocked my phone on the floor. The screen better not be cracked."
"That's your concern right now? Really?"
His grip on your wrists tightened, then loosened, then tightened again, like he couldn't decide whether to let you go or keep you exactly where you were. His breathing was rough against the back of your neck.
"Who taught you ambush someone like that?"
"Nobody! It was spontaneous!"
"That explains a lot." His thumb dragged across the inside of your wrist, a distracted, possessive gesture he probably wasn't even aware of. "It was spontaneous and horribly executed."
"Let me up." you struggled against his hold.
"No."
"Hayato."
"You started this." His voice dropped, mouth somewhere behind your ear now. "You don't get to just launch yourself at me and expect me to--Ugh, what were you even thinking!?"
"That it would be fun!"
Silence. Then a rough exhale that fanned hot across your neck, and his forehead thunked against your shoulder like your stupidity physically exhausted him.
"Why do I attract idiots so much?"
"Is that a compliment?"
"...Sure, why not?"
TYL!Takeshi Yamamoto
You caught him mid-stretch in the hallway, his arms were overhead and his eyes half-closed in a yawn.
It was the perfect opening.
You rushed him low, wrapped both arms around his midsection, and drove forward with your legs, fully intending to take him off his feet and onto the floor.
Yamamoto didn't fall. He rocked back on his heels, absorbed the entire impact while smiling and looked down at you clinging to his torso.
"Oh! Are we wrestling?"
"We're supposed to be! Go down!" you continued to try and shove him over to no avail.
"Hmm, nah."
He peeled your arms open like you were a child hanging off a jungle gym, turned you, and dropped you both to the hallway rug in one fluid motion.
Your back hit the carpet and his knees bracketed your hips. Both your hands were pressed flat to the floor above your head with his fingers laced through yours like you were just holding hands and not actively keeping you immobilized.
He was grinning, completely unbothered.
"You gotta go for the legs sweetie."
"I put my entire weight into that though!"
"Yeah, I felt it! It was a good effort for your first try." He squeezed your fingers. "Solid impact. Seriously."
"Don't patronize me, Takeshi!"
"I'm not! You moved me like two inches. That's a lot, coming from the front." His head cocked sideways, dark eyes bright with a kind of delighted, overflowing energy. "Most people go from behind for a reason y'know."
"I wanted to see your face!"
His grin softened hearing that, and leaned down until your noses bumped.
"Yeah?" His voice came out easy but lower. "Well, you've got it now."
"...This backfired on me." Your eyes darted away from his as you felt your face heat up.
"Did it though?" He pressed your joined hands a little harder into the carpet, settling his weight just enough that your hips were completely locked. "Seems like you ended up exactly where you wanted to be."
"I wanted to be on top though" you huffed, still avoiding eye-contact.
"...Best two out of three after dinner?" he tilted his head.
Your eyes shifted to his with newfound determination. "You're on."
TYL!Ryohei Sasagawa
You waited until he was mid-rep on the living room floor, arms shaking through his four hundredth push-up of the evening, and dropped your full weight directly onto his back.
He didn't collapse. His arms locked, absorbing you without a single wobble, and he cranked out three more push-ups with you sprawled across him like a human blanket.
"FOUR-HUNDRED AND ONE! FOUR-HUNDREAD AND TWO! FOUR-HUNDRED AND--wait." He turned his head, one eye finding you over his shoulder. "When did you get there?"
"I've been here for the last three push-ups, Ryohei!"
"OH! I thought I was hitting my limit there for a moment!"
You scrambled to hook your arms under his and roll him sideways, throwing every ounce of leverage you had into the motion. He tipped due to loss of balance not your strength, and you lunged for his wrists the second his back hit the carpet.
You got one pinned. The other hand came up and simply placed itself next to the first, like he was trying to do you a favor. Which frankly, pissed you off more than anything.
"Am I down? I'M DOWN!--Uh, what happens next?" He looked completely stumped.
"You're supposed to struggle!"
"WHY WOULD I STRUGGLE? My wife is on top of me! This is the EXTREME opposite of a problem!" His face was flushed from the workout, white hair stuck to his forehead, chest heaving because of the small marathon workout he completed tonight. "Is this a new exercise? Are we doing a circuit?"
"This is not a circuit!"
"It could be though! Pin drills! Grappling cardio! We could add it to the morning routine!"
"I don't have a morning routine!"
"EXACTLY! This could be the start!" His pinned hands curled and his fingers wrapped around your wrists instead, reversing the grip completely without moving his arms. One sharp sit-up later and you were in his lap, legs splayed, his face inches from yours. He wasn't even trying. The man had simply decided to be upright.
"Your reaction time was incredible though. You picked the EXACT moment my stabilizers were engaged!"
"Thank... you?" Now you were the one confused.
"We're doing this every night! Tuesdays and Thursdays we add weights!"
"We are not doing this every nigh--"
"I'LL START MEAL PREPPING!"
He was already carrying you toward the kitchen, one arm hooked under you, free hand reaching for the drawer where he kept a truly alarming collection of containers.
20YL!Lambo
You crept up behind the couch where he was sprawled, one leg thrown over the backrest, scrolling through his phone with boneless laziness. Then, you vaulted over the armrest, straddled his waist, and slammed both his wrists into the cushion above his head.
Lambo kept a firm grip on his phone.
"Hm." He looked up at you, half-lidded, completely unimpressed. "You done?"
"I have you!"
"Do you though?" He shifted his weight with barely any effort, and the couch did the rest. The cushion sank under your knee, your balance vanished, and one lazy roll later you were wedged between him and the backrest with his elbow propped on your hip like an armrest.
He went back to scrolling.
"Lambo!"
"What? You attacked me during my free time. That's on you."
"You didn't even try!"
"Didn't need to." He locked his phone and tucked it into his back pocket without shifting off you. His cheek dropped against his fist, elbow still using your hip as a prop, and he regarded you with sleepy arrogance that only he could make this infuriating. "The couch did most of the work. You picked terrible terrain."
"I'm going to smother you with this throw pillow I swear to--" he interrupted you before you could finish.
"See, that's a better strategy. Shows initiative." His free hand found your thigh and settled there, thumb tracing an absent circle. "The pin thing, though? Sloppy. No base. You just threw yourself at me and hoped for the best."
"It works in the movies though!"
"Movies don't hire trained mafia members." He stretched slowly, pressing you further into the cushions. His mouth found the hinge of your jaw without any apparent urgency. "If you wanted to be under me you could've just asked."
"That is NOT what this was about!"
"Mm. Sure." Another lazy kiss, this one below your ear. "You wanna try again, or are you comfortable? Because I'm very comfortable right now."
"I'm... comfortable."
"Thought so."
TYL!Kyoya Hibari
He was standing at the window of his office, back to the door, reading something on his phone. You removed your shoes, controlled your breathing, and planned the exact angle of approach for maximum leverage.
You only made it two steps into the room before his hand closed around your wrist and the ceiling swapped places with the floor.
Your shoulder blades hit the hardwood, and Hibari's knee landed beside your ribs. One hand pinning your wrists overhead. The other still held his phone.
He hadn't looked away from the screen once.
Your lungs remembered how to work after about three seconds of silence.
"...How?"
"You breathe too loudly."
"I was holding my breath though!"
"Not well enough." He scrolled something on his phone, thumb moving with calm precision while his other hand kept your wrists flattened to the floor without apparent effort. "You also shifted your weight to your right foot before entering. The floorboard in the doorway has a specific sound."
"We've lived here for years and you've memorized the floorboards?"
The look he gave you could have frozen the sun. Except, and you learned to catch this over time, the very corner of his mouth was tilting up almost imperceptibly. It wasn't a smile by any means but it was a fracture his composure nonetheless.
"Why." He didn't phrase it as a question. He never did.
"I wanted... to see if I could pin you." you murmured in defeat.
"You couldn't."
"Well I know that now, thank you!"
He set his phone on the floor beside your head and transferred his full attention onto to you in a way that felt like stepping into a spotlight.
"Your approach was poor and predictable with no contingency if the initial contact failed..."
"Is this a critique?"
"It's a challenge." His knee shifted and his grip tightened by a fraction. He leaned down until his mouth was close enough that his words landed against your skin. "Come at me correctly next time."
"That implies there is a correct way though."
"There is. I won't be teaching you though."
TYL!Mukuro Rokudo
You had been planning this for a week. After all, catching the illusionist off guard was no easy feat. You learned his schedule over the years and knew he would be in the study at half-past nine, drinking his tea with both hands occupied.
You slipped through the doorway, crossed the rug silently, and brought both hands down on his shoulders from behind to shove him forward onto the desk.
Except your palms hit the chairback, and said chair was suddenly empty although his teacup sat on the desk, still steaming.
"Looking for someone?"
You spun. He was leaning against the doorframe you just walked through, arms crossed, looking at you like he knew your scheme since before you left the bedroom.
"How... long have you been standing there?" you squeaked out.
"Since you started tiptoeing down the hallway. You really must work on your stealth." He pushed off the frame with one shoulder, crossing toward you with steps that made no sound. "I'll give you credit, that was an adorable attempt at an ambush."
"Don't call my ambush adorable!"
"Would you prefer 'cute?' Or perhaps 'quaint?'" The chairback you were holding onto dissapated into air and your body met the edge of his desk as one of his hands collected both your wrists behind your back.
He done it all instantaneously before you could make sense of what was happening.
"I spent a week planning that."
"I know. You kept checking the clock after dinner. Very subtle." His free hand lifted, one finger tilting your chin up as his gaze traced your features with an attention that felt almost invasive. "Did you really think tea would keep my hands that occupied?"
"I--"
"I finished it ten minutes ago and refilled the cup as a prop." His mouth curved. "Strategy is about information, dear. And you have never once been able to hide anything from me, kufufu."
"That's not fair."
"No." He leaned in, lips brushing barely brushing yours. "It isn't. That's rather the point."
TYL!Spanner
He was under some half-built project, sprawled across the workshop floor, with only his legs visible from the knees down. You could hear wrench sounds and occasional muttering towards himself.
You took this as your opportunity to grab both his ankles and yank.
He slid out on the roller board, blinking up at you through his goggles, lollipop clicking against his teeth.
"Oh. Hey. Is it dinner time already?"
You ignored his question and dropped onto his midsection, pinned his wrists to the concrete on either side of his head, and pressed down. For one glorious moment, you had him flat on his back, completely immobilized, staring up at you with engine grease on his cheekbone.
Then he hooked one leg around yours, bridged his hips using the roller board's momentum, and reversed your positions. Your back hit the roller board and he settled above you, one hand pinning both your wrists overhead, the other pulling the lollipop from his mouth.
"Your weight distribution was actually pretty good. But the roller board's friction coefficient works both ways." He pointed at her with the lollipop. "You gave me a pivot point."
"I don't know what that means, Spanner!"
"Means the board rolls. Whoever's on top is less stable than whoever redirects the momentum." He said this the way other people said pass the salt. "You should've pinned me on the concrete, I wouldn't have had the leverage then."
"I'm not taking engineering notes right now, stop ruining the fun!"
"Why not? This is basically applied physics." His goggles had gone crooked in the reversal, sitting at an angle that made one green eye look bigger than the other. He pushed them up into his hair with his free hand, then looked down at you on the board beneath him. "...Huh."
"'Huh' what?"
"Nothing. Just--the board's rated for two hundred kilos... but we should be fine like this." He said it offhandedly, already somewhere else in his head, but his thumb was tracing your wrist joint with the same focused attention he gave delicate wiring.
"Was--Was that supposed to comfort me?! Geez, you're the least romantic person alive!"
"I'm on top of you on my workshop floor and I just I just tried to suggest something subtly to you. That's extremely romantic for me."
"...That's actually a fair point."
"I know. So... would you like me to keep me googles on or off for this."
TYL!Shoichi Irie
He was at his desk, hunched over a tablet, glasses reflecting lines of data, so deep in whatever algorithm he was untangling that a bomb could've gone off in the next room and he would have asked to keep the noise down.
You grabbed the back of his chair, spun it, seized both his wrists, and pinned them to the armrests.
Shoichi screamed.
Not a dignified shout. Not a startled gasp. A full, sharp, soul-leaving-the-body scream that sent his tablet clattering off the desk and his glasses halfway down his nose.
"WHAT-- WHO--" he realized it was you, though this did nothing to calm his panic. "WHY?!?!"
"It's ME! Your WIFE!"
"I KNOW BUT THAT DOESN'T EXPLAIN THE ASSAULT!"
His chest was heaving and you could literally see his pulse hammering in his throat. You were still gripping his wrists against the armrests, so technically you had him pinned.
Victory.
Except Shoichi's panic response apparently included adrenaline.
Because he lurched forward out of the chair and the momentum carried you both sideways until you hit the floor next to the desk with Shoichi on top of you, one knee between yours, hands clamped around your wrists against the carpet.
He was still shaking from the cardiac event you inflicted on him.
"Oh my god," he panted, staring down at you with horrified eyes. "Oh my god-- Are you okay? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to--my body just did that and--"
"Shoichi."
"I-- what?" He looked at his hands on your wrists, at his position, at the full picture of the situation. The flush darkened by three entire shades. "I... oh."
"Pretty impressive, actually."
"Really?--Augh, oh no--my stomach--my stomach's doing the thing--" His face crumpled with the familiar nauseous grimace that accompanied every spike of his anxiety. "Why would you do that? I was working! I--"
"Forget the tablet, Shoichi, look at me."
He looked at you, lower lip caught between his teeth, still hovering above you with his full weight barely committed, like he was terrified of pressing down too hard.
"...What's with that look?"
"You have me pinned to the floor. This is the hottest thing you've ever done."
The sound he made was basically the verbal equivalent of a blue screen--a strangled, vowel-heavy noise that ended with him dropping his forehead against your collarbone and staying there as his hands released your wrists to cover his own face in embarrassment.
TYL!Chikusa Kakimoto
He was on the couch reading with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, completely checked out from the physical world.
You approached from behind, slow and silent, reached over the back of the couch, and grabbed both his wrists to wrench them backward.
Chikusa's book didn't even close. He looked at your hands on his wrists the way someone might look at a mildly confusing grocery receipt.
"What are you doing." he asked flatly, still looking at your hands.
"Pinning you down!"
"From behind the couch?"
"I... yes?"
"This provides you with bad leverage." His wrists rotated out of your grip and caught your elbow, before he flipped you over the couch back with a precise tug that used your own forward lean against you. You landed face-up across his lap, legs draped over the backrest, staring at the ceiling.
He picked his book back up.
"Chikusa."
"Mm."
"What just happen?"
"You were off-balance. I redirected." He turned a page. His other hand was resting on your stomach like you were an armrest. "Your grip was too high on my wrists. Closer to the base of the palm would give you better rotational control."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"No reason, just correction."
You laid there, processing the sheer indignity of being flipped then furniture'd by your husband.
"Are you going to let me up?"
"You can get up whenever you want, I'm not holding you down."
He was right. There was nothing restraining you, but you stayed in place anyhow.
"...I'll try again later."
"You'll fail again later." he flipped to another page without a glance, making you roll your eyes.
"Wow. How supportive."
He lowered his book ever so slightly. "Use your hips next time. You have the clear advantage here but you're not utilizing it properly."
"Was... that a compliment?"
The silence that followed went on long enough that you thought he'd simply chosen not to answer.
Then, barely audible over the sound of another turning page, "No, just another correction."
TYL!Ken Joshima
He was standing at the open fridge, shoving leftover yakisoba into his mouth directly from the container, making sounds that could generously be described as feral.
And not in the hot kind of way, which was fine considering your objective.
You charged him from behind, locked both arms around his torso, and threw your weight sideways to drag him to the kitchen floor.
Ken hit the tile on his hip and the yakisoba container went flying, noodles scattering across the floor like sad confetti. You scrambled on top of him, grabbed his wrists, pinned them above his head.
His jaw was still working on the mouthful. He chewed. Swallowed. Looked up at you.
"The hell!?"
"I got you! You said I couldn't do it, but you're down!"
"You made me drop my food!"
"Forget the food, Ken, I got you!"
His nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed for a moment before his body bucked under you, and the reversal happened with a snarling, graceless, completely instinctive violence that sent you onto your back so hard it left you winded.
Both your wrists were crushed to the tile above your head in one of his hands. His face was inches from yours, teeth bared, breathing hard. A noodle was stuck to his cheek.
"You. Made. Me. Drop. My. Food."
Unfortunately, being your husband for too long made his intimidation tactics less than effective at times like these.
"You..." you paused, still catching your breath while trying to find the right words. "Have yakisoba on your face."
"DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT!"
His grip tightened, chest heaving against yours. He was radiating heat like a furnace and his pupils were blown wide in a way that made the accusation in his voice deeply unconvincing. "Who just tackles someone at the fridge? What kind of psycho--"
"The kind you married!"
That shut him up for a few moments before he exhaled a rough sigh.
"...You didn't even pin me down right, dumbass."
You quirked a brow. "You think that reasoning is going to stop me from trying again?"
His face was red and his free hand was braced beside your head, claws denting into the tile. "You wanna go again huh? Try it! 'Cause I'll put you down every time--"
"Ken honey, the noodle's still on your cheek."
He swiped at it furiously with his shoulder, refuseing to release either your wrists or his dignity, and glared down at you.
"...I'm reheating more yakisoba after this."
"After what, exactly?"
The glare faltered. He looked at his hand on your wrists, at the position, at the complete picture. The red in his face spread to his ears. You smirked.
"S-Shut up!"
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said it!... Stop looking at me like that!"
Dr. Shamal
He was slouched in a patio chair outside the house, legs crossed at the ankle, cigarette between his fingers. His stubble was two days past respectable, shirt unbuttoned one notch past decent.
You came at him from the side, grabbed both wrists, and shoved him backward in the chair, planting your knee on one of his thighs and beared down on him.
"Ohhh~" He looked up at you through half-lidded eyes, mouth curving upwards. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Stop smiling--I'm restraining you right now."
"My wife just climbed on top of me unprovoked and you don't want me to smile? That's just cruel bella." He made zero effort to free his wrists. None. His hands stayed exactly where you'd put them.
"You're supposed to try and get me off of you!"
"Why? I chased women across four continents for twenty years and then married the one who actually caught me. You think I'm going to fight this?" His cigarette hand gestured vaguely at the full picture of you in his lap. "I'm not a total idiot."
"Shamal, I'm trying to--"
"Your knee's on my femoral artery, by the way. Move it a little to the left before my leg goes numb."
"Stop diagnosing while I'm trying to one-up you!"
"Can't help it." His eyes tracked your face with open unhurried attention. "Also your shoulders are tense, have been all week."
"I wonder why!"
"Probably because your husband leaves his clothes on the bathroom floor. That's fair. I deserve this." He still hadn't moved his wrists. The cigarette was burning down between his fingers, forgotten. "Go ahead. I'll stay right here and take my punishment."
"...You're taking all the fun out of this." you sighed, weakening your grip on his.
"Am I?" One wrist turned with ease and his fingers laced through yours. "Because from where I'm sitting, and I'm very much enjoying where I'm sitting, this is fun."
"I wanted to overpower you though." You were pouting now.
"You did. Look at me. I haven't moved a muscle." His free hand finally dropped the cigarette, then settled onto your thigh with easy confidence. "You know most people need professional training and experience to pin me down. You just needed to exist."
"That is the cheesiest thing you've ever--" you scoffed.
"I've said cheesier, just ask Gokudera how I talk about you when you're not arou--Actually, don't do that. Or you might actually kill me." His thumb traced a slow line up your thigh. "You can try again whenever you want. I'll lose every time."
[If you would like to be added to a tag list for khr, let me know!]
a/n. ngl this took an extra while to edit because i'm adjusting to a chromebook keyboard and realized how over-reliant i am on the caps lock 💀 also yes ken is a favorite of mine but shamalllll
