Keanu Reeves/ John Wick one shots

Think

John Wick x Reader

A/n- I haven't done a John Wick in a while. This is sort / kind of/ very smutty. (Is it weird that I imagined that John would be rough in bed?) Also, what is it with me and inspiration from songs? Anyway, the idea sprouted from the song Think by Kaleida (From the John Wick OST) Warnings-Smut, rough sex, and minor inferred breath play.

The entire walk back from the club, Y/n had been silent. It was meant to be a fun night out, two friends grabbing drinks. John hadn't necessarily wanted to go, but Y/n was the closest person he had to a friend these days and she asked. They weren't supposed to be 'working' but on their way out, someone had approached them, they didn't know who sent them, but they both had a lot of enemies. Without any other real choice, John and Y/n did what they did best. Kill. 

Now, coming down from their adrenaline high, they entered her apartment and she locked the door behind them. Y/n walked through the foyer, stopping at the table where she kept a ceramic bowl for keys. On the wall, a silver framed mirror hung, and she lingered there, staring at her reflection. They had only known each other for a few months, but he had never seen her like this. So quiet it was deadly, John moved to stand behind her, his own reflection towering over hers. 

They stood like that for a while. Y/n's pale gold satin dress was blood soaked at the front, and there were splashes of blood on both their faces. She sported a bruise near the top of her left shoulder, and without thinking, John reached out and placed his fingers on it. Her skin was smooth, and cool to touch. She had other minor injuries too, some scrapes and cuts, but nothing serious. John had some himself, but his concern was her. He assumed that she had been this quiet because she had known their attacker. Some one from her time at Ruska Roma, but he had a feeling that she wasn't in the mood to talk about it.

After a long stretching silence, John spoke up, "Are you okay?"

Y/n just stoop there, meeting his eyes through the mirror, "Unzip me?" She asked as if she hadn't heard his question. Or she just wanted to ignore it. John placed a strong hand on the small of Y/n's back, using the other to pull the zipper down. As he did so, his mind travelled back to when he came to her apartment earlier in the night to meet her and she had asked him to zip the dress up. It was clean then, and smelt of perfume and not blood. The zipper went all the way down to the end of her back, the lace of a black thong peaking out.  One of the thin straps slid down, the silky fabric hung loosely on her form and suddenly, for some reason, he wanted to hold her.

I am your light, your light, your light/ Think of me/ You're never in the dark .....

Neither of them knew what they were thinking, but John moved in closer and Y/n turned, her body rubbing against his as she did. Her hands reached up to cup his face, his scuffle tickling her palm. Their faces inched closer and closer. They kissed. It was the first time their lips had ever touched. Y/n leaned into John, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket. The kiss felt angry at first, rushed; as if they were trying to suck the air out of each other, but that soon turned to passion. John's hands roped around Y/n's waist, slipping lower and lower to cup her perfect backside. She shoved his jacket off, pushing against his chest so they would move. They didn't go far though, ending up in her spacious living room, not even bothering with the lights. 

John haphazardly helped Y/n get out of the dress, then watched as the red stained satin pooled at her feet. Her half naked form on display, for him. He would be lying if he said this never crossed his mind. From what he had been spared, Y/n was gorgeous, perfection usually wrapped in leather. But now, she was more than he could have ever imagined. Better.  

Admiring was cut short when Y/n's expert fingers made short work of his shirt and the belt, button and zipper on his pants, pulling them down so that as he fell back onto the sofa, he was clad only in his boxers. She pounced on top on him, straddling his waist, raking her long nails along his bare chest. John grabbed both her wrists in one hand, trying to meet her eyes in the darkness, "Are you sure?" His deep voice reduced to nothing but a husky whisper. He wanted this, he did, but he didn't want her to regret it.