#young! Keanu

[generalkenobee]

"I can't wait to marry you"

Summary: Ted doesn't know how to ask for what he wants...

Warnings: praise, pet names (beautiful), language, p in v, breast play

--

I feel like Ted is so inexperienced that anytime you straddle his lap and start to make out with him he's just so nervous and almost scared. Of course he's a teenage boy who has also never even felt the touch of a woman so of course he wants it, more than anything. He just doesn't have a clue what to do.

you kissed the corners of his mouth while your hands cradled his face, fingers running through his hair. "I love you so much.. you're fucking perfect for me" your boyfriends face began to heat up while he tried to control him self from bucking his hips up into your clothed cunt that was sat right above his throbbing cock.

"please please please" Teds hands grabbed at your waist, not even completely sure of what he wanted or what he was asking for

"what'd you need beautiful?" You asked sympathetically knowing that he couldn't ask for what he needed.

Ted shut his eyes tightly as if he was trying to think, to help speed up his train of thought you rolled your hips down into his lap, placing your hands on his shoulders "I- please make me feel good like how you do when we-" you cut him off

"alright I got it-" he smiled in response, whispering a small 'ok..' under his breath.

You looked back up at him "which one do you want?" This was a strategy you'd thought of so he doesn't have to be as straight forward in asking with full sentences. "Your uhm- y-your-"

You unzipped his pants pulling out his cock giving it a few pumps. "You want my cunt?" You asked pulling your underwear to the side. He nodded vigorously while looking at you with pleading eyes.

Your hand brought him closer, rubbing his head against your pulsing clit, letting out a high squeaky moan you finally slid him into your tight hole.

Ted let his head roll back as he wrapped his arms around you pulling you close. "So good- your body's amazing.." you said as you began to bounce up and down, moaning every time you hit the base.

While you bounced you noticed your boyfriend's eyes lingering to your chest. "You wanna feel" of course he did, because deep down, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, Ted Theodore Logan was a perv. He nodded again while he reached out kneading your left breast in his larger hand while the other was rested on your hip.

Ted looked up at you with a feeling of guilt in his eyes "I- I'm gonna"

"it's ok me too" you said cutting him off. You sped up your pace and the closer Ted got, the more babbling he did.

"oh shit you're fucking perfect babe y-you're amazing and I love you so fucking much I can't fucking wait to marry you one day and- aughh-" This time he cut himself off with his own orgasm and you both finished together.

[pussyvanphaggot]

thinking about keanu reeves in this 90’s cover of the modern review

[hoziercriespower]

Hozier and Keanu Reeves at the INmusic Festival

📸 ruthlessimagery

[loyoyox]

This genre of men >

[valenli]

✧♡

Ted's hair is most excellent..🖤🎸

[zimtlove]

First mission

[johnwickb1tsch]

~ Enigmatic Stranger ~ Part 1 Part 2 WIP

a young!John Wick x fem!Reader dumpster fire😆… by the amazing @sweetwolfcupcake , the incredible @treedaddymcpuffpuff , & this weirdo @johnwickb1tsch

He’s following you. 

You know it’s the only explanation. 

You don’t really think he means you any harm, but…isn’t that how all those creepy stories on DATELINE begin? 

A neatly packed giftbag appears on your doorstep a few days later, containing your notebook and all your favorite pens. No note, but you know. 

He knows where you live.

You can’t call the cops–even if you wanted to. You just know it won’t do any good. 

And…you don’t really want to get him into trouble. You just want…

Well you don’t know what you want, dammit. A properly functioning brain around him, maybe. That would be helpful. 

The next time you’re in your favorite corner cafe, the barista tells you that your usual order has already been paid for. Happy holidays to you! 

Not nearly as thrilled about it as the nice girl was clearly expecting, you look around frantically. You know he’s here somewhere–in the corner? Across the room? That’s when you spot a flash of mocha dark eyes meeting yours from the other side of the window–outside. He gives you a smirk, and a little finger wave. 

Coward. 

You don’t know where you get the courage to march back out to the sidewalk with your fists clenched–maybe because deep down you know by the time you get out there, he’s already gone.

-------------

same order @sweetwolfcupcake @treedaddymcpuffpuff ?? :)))))))

[ariksly]

he collects typewriters🤷‍♀️.

I collect dvds and kpop albums lmao.

[awidevastdominion]

[brookie-kookie1943]

Keanuverse Bracelet - Part Three…

I bring to you another Keanu character bracelet I have made!

Warning: I’m a very amateur pony bead bracelet maker.

(I base the colors I use either off of their clothing or the aesthetic of the whole movie in general.)

I present to you…

Right. After I helped him kill her.

I mostly based this off of his shirt and jean jacket.

He’s a handsome stoner lol.

Hope you like it! ❤️

[97keanu]

shotgunning a cigarette with john wick (especially young jardani) is all i can think abt right now

John's breath is visible in the cold of the night, the stink of the city rising from the gutters in the alley. You take a deep drag from the cigarette he passed you earlier. It fills your lungs with welcomed smog, and you exhale before your lungs can protest the chemicals being held for too long. Neither of you speak as the smoke dances in the air between you two. You don't need to. This little routine of yours has been suiting you both quite nicely without many words so far.

You look out into the starless night, tapping the cigarette off to the side before passing it back to John without looking. You think about how different things are for people like you. How much your feet ache despite leaning against the brick wall for support. Your ruined toes from the strict ballet routines, the callouses on your hands matching the blisters on blisters.

You don't want to think about what they teach John. You know he's due for his first true mission soon, you're both beginning to be old enough to truly start being of value to the 'family's' business.

You don't notice John's sharp eyes caressing your features. You only glance over when your thoughts drift away, and the craving for another hit of the cigarette hits. You catch his stare, and he doesn't look away, he isn't one to be embarrassed about something like that. You wonder for a moment how long he's been eyeing you, but ignore it, and reach a hand out towards that little fire John holds in his hand between you. He pulls it back, not cruely, but as if he must.

This surprises you, but you don't know what to say. John speaks for the first time tonight.

"I'm headed off tomorrow night." he says it plainly, no deeper explaining, but you know what this means. He is going out to kill for the first time, for real, not the sparing he does with the other boys. No, he will use the sharpened skills he's learned, or he won't be back. You say nothing, but you give a small, short nod of understanding, and one of your hands reaches to smooth the white, fluffy tuelle of your ballet dress. John continues.

"I want to try something with you, if you'll let me..." He isn't nervous when he speaks. He says everything so plainly, but right now you know whatever he is suggesting is important to him, so you turn towards him fully. You look deep into those brown eyes, practically as black as the night sky above right now, only a small overhead yellowing light on the side of the building casting a glow on both of you. He sees your willingness to listen, and the space between the two of you closes so slowly, you hardly notice John is even moving towards you. He is truly, stealthy.

"Stop me if this displeases you..." His voice has softened, just barely, the words ebbing upwards with the frost of his breath. You know he means it when he says that, you trust that he would never do something to displease you to begin with, but your heart picks up as he moves closer. He brings that glowing ember back to his lips and takes a deep drag, tendrils of smoke escaping his mouth as he pulls the cigarette away at last.

He closes the gap between you until he is leaning down, his height having always been there, suddenly more noticeable. John hasn't released the smoke from his lungs, not yet. He's savoring the moment. His hand is warm when it touches your waist, bringing you in until your lips are brushing his, both of you open and waiting for the other. You give a small movement towards him for the first time since this started, and that's all he needs.

John presses lips into yours with a hunger, a need barely kept at bay, still restrained. He is well trained, indeed. He kisses you, moving gently in sync with your lips, and you respond perfectly in time. You are also trained, synchronicity coming easy to a ballerina like you.

John's lungs must be aching by now, but the kiss goes on, one of his large hands reaching up to place a thumb against the base of your neck, feeling you there, and then wrapping so gently to crook you deeper into him. You feel a moan bubble up from the gesture, and feel as if you are but a swan in wolf's teeth. John bites your lower lip gently, pulling it down and asking you to open. You oblige, and he softly breathes the smoke he has been holding into your awaiting lungs.

You take it hungrily, softly sucking in to meet what has been contained inside him. You feel as if more than just smoke has entered your body. You can feel a piece of John, as if he is giving you some small part of him. As if to say, 'if I don't make it back, remember this part of me, the part that didn't kill. The part that breathed life into another. Carry it with you.' Your cheeks burn in the cold as your lungs fill to the brim and the rest over flows and descends upwards into the night.

John seals the breath he's given you with a final, passionate kiss. It's as if he's stamped your petal like lips with a flame that wasn't supposed to grow there. When his lips pull away, leaving heavy breaths and even heavier lids looking, searching deeply into one another, you can't help but feel like John has lit a coalfire in the pit of your stomach. From the look he's giving you, you can tell he feels the same, maybe even better knowing what he's done to you, how he's tainted you before he must take his leave.

"John..." His name drifts from your lips onto his, and he stops you with the brush of another kiss.

"We should go back inside..." He hasn't taken his eyes off you, you're still so close it hurts. You know he's right, but this moment is intimacy that neither of you have every been allowed here, in this place that teaches only death. You search him, a hand you didn't notice is gripping his shirt. You hold that fabric tightly, and your knuckles shake when your mind thinks to let go.

"I know..." John says simply, and you know he does. "Meet me here again, in a days time, as we usually do."

"But..." You begin, not able to bring yourself to the 'what if' of no one being here when you come.

"I would not allow myself to let you down. You know that." And you do. John will do everything in his power to make sure your little ritual out here is unbroken. You know he will come back. He must. Your grip loosens, and you two part. You both go back to your comfortable silence, and head inside.

The heat of John's lips and hand around your throat hold you through out that night. You dream of a wolf who takes you gently in it's teeth. It doesn't let go.

Next part here!

[hoziercriespower]

Hozier at the INmusic fest

❝ Zagreb, Thank you 🖤 ❞ 📸 @ruthlessimagery

[keanusmoonbeam]

your pov as his non-celebrity girlfriend:

[valenli]

A Flat Coated Retriever anyone? He's literally the cutest..

[fushic0re]

thinking of young keanu really hard today 👁️🫦👁️

[johnwickb1tsch]

image by treedaddymcpuffpuff 😍😘

~ Enigmatic Stranger ~  Part 1

a young!John Wick x fem!Reader dumpster fire😆… by the amazing @sweetwolfcupcake , the incredible @treedaddymcpuffpuff , & this weirdo @johnwickb1tsch ~ based on a photoset posted by @satlun 😘

Johnwickb1tsch

Imagine...you work somewhere, or like a certain park bench on your break everyday. You see this guy all the time but never really interact with him outside of brief eye contact. He seems shy, or at least just keeps to himself. But one day this quiet, handsome AF man begs you not to be there the next day. You're weirded out, but on a gut feeling you comply. Then you see on the news that some shit went down. Like a politician was killed or some prominent businessman, and you would have been right in the middle of it. He saved you. You know it. You never see the handsome dark man again, until one day...😱

Sweetwolfcupcake

You have thought of him often though, but as months go by, with the general hustle of life, his thoughts fade away, reserved for the leisurely times when you can't help but remember the day he spoke to you.

It's Christmas week and everything seems dreamy---maybe because you are a hopeless romantic by heart, a realist by mind and never a people-person in general. but as you take your coffee and doughnut and make yourself comfortable on a park bench while watching children and adults trying their hands(feet) on ice-skating, you see another person sit on the bench next to yours from the corner of your eyes. It can be anyone, you know that, and usually, you are not the kind to even bother to take a glance. But something in you tells you to.

And there he is, the dark, enigmatic stranger who once haunted your dreams. He looks the same, handsome as ever---a man worth a portrait as he stares off at a distance. Not wanting to seem like a creep, you look away too.

Maybe you should stop reading those stupid romance classics.

Johnwickb1tsch

You're more than a little nervous, understandably. You're not stupid. You've pretty much figured out that this man is involved in some less than legal activities in New York. But his eyes... seem so kind, and so sad.

He doesn't really acknowledge you until he is just about to leave, offering you a small, barely visible curl of lips, before disappearing like a wraith into the crowd. It's like you blink and suddenly he's just gone.

It's not till later you notice there's a little red box with a bow on top on the bench where he was sitting. You know you should just leave it. Walk away, and hope you never see him again. You think this, as you pick it up and peel back the paper.

There's an earring inside. Your earring. You'd lost it, the day he warned you off from your spot in the park, and you never thought you'd see it again. It was something precious to you. Not just a bauble, but a memento of your grandmother, who you'd loved very much.

You know you shouldn't hope to see this man again. But deep down in the darkest corner of your heart, kindles a hope that you do…

sweetwolfcupcake

You see, you never believed that the 'universe works in mysterious ways' or 'the universe has a plan'. No, it's all random events put together into an abyss of nothingness.

You are not the kind to believe in some grand scheme of things. The handsome, brooding stranger who you find yourself thinking of often, will never cross paths with you again. That is what you tell yourself every day, every time you think of him.

Until he does appear in front of you. You see, you have a favourite corner at the local cafe you are a regular of. The peaceful corner, closer to the bookshelf, is a little dark and shadowy and a part of the window is available for you to glance at the busy street every now and then. Idyllic. Not the cottage-core life you find yourself fantasising about, but in this busy city, this is the best you can get, and you're not complaining.

You do not even notice him until you put your little notepad away. Inspiration never gives warning bells, so you prefer to carry a little notepad around and scribble every other nonsense that comes to your mind by looking at...anything. Literally. It was a dustbin once.

You see him three tables away, eyes cast down, focused on his coffee. You can bet it's sugarless. And that somehow makes you smile.

But then you realise that you are probably looking like a creep and look away. Your cheeks are not warm, no, not at all, it's the coffee that's making them warm. You do not feel tiny beads of sweat over your nose or above your lips. No. And your heart DID not pick up.

You let out a slow, calming breath.

What's wrong with you?

johnwickb1tsch

A few days later, you are popping into your favorite used book shop. You turn the corner where the classics are shelved--and there he is, with an old copy of Russian Folktales in hand. You jump, and freeze. He, on the other hand, barely glances up at you, the corner of his mouth slightly curled.

"It's almost like you're following me," he says, still looking at the book.

You realize it's the first time he's spoken to you, since the day he warned you to stay away from the park. You'd dreamt of that voice, but your memory was a paltry shadow, compared to the real thing.

You can't really manage a reply, just standing there like a starstruck fool.

You jump a little again, as he shuts the book. Slowly, he comes to stand before you. You feel frozen, unable to move, except for your neck, which you must crane back to look up at him. He absolutely towers over you.

You should be afraid...but you like that.

His dark eyes glance at something above both of your heads, his hint of a smile widening to a smirk. You follow his gaze, and realize...it's mistletoe.

The fiery flush of your embarrassment washes through you like a boiling hot tsunami. Vaguely you are aware of a squeak escaping your mouth, before you turn tail and run, the sound of his deep chuckling trailing after you.

sweetwolfcupcake

The counter has three people waiting to be checked out. It won't take long, you think and stand in the queue. You have been eying this one book for so long, and you won't let this handsome stranger with haunting eyes, dark chocolate voice and silk hair make you miss your chance to have the book. You assume he was just teasing you and now he has busied himself with his little Russian folktales.

Your relief, however, is short-lived when you feel the warmth of another body behind you.

It can be anyone...

You tell yourself, yet, are unable to gather the courage to turn around. Your cheeks are still warm and your heart feels like it's going to take the leap of faith and leave you to die. Something in you knows that it's him behind you, and the silence only makes you more tense.

"I was only teasing."

That delicious voice again. You do not turn around but you can envision his little smirk.

"I know."

The truth is, you did not know that he was joking. And you won't have been surprised if he wasn't. Every time you have crossed paths with him, you have stared at him like a creep perhaps. The silence feels awkward but it's your turn to check out so you try to rush through. You are too embarrassed by this whole encounter to stay and strike up a conversation, and a fucking coward to give him the biting reply sitting on the tip of your tongue. Yes, that's why you prefer books maybe.

Maybe you need to go on a real date or something to stop thinking about this man who seems to bump into you every now and then because there is no way in hell you have a chance with him, or you are risking it. You are no fool. you know there is something off about him, and you do not wish to dig deeper. So you take your book, thank the cashier and hurry towards the exit.

treedaddymcpuffpuff

You’re not scared of him because of his shady nature, although you probably should be. The blood speckles on his white shirt-that you’re pretty sure are not his own, the flash of a gun holster you see on his belt, his huge, calloused hands with knuckles that have no doubt seen brutality and violence, the bruises even sometimes blooming fresh. 

No, you’re not scared of him for any of that. You’re scared of the way you can’t help but want to bury your head in his warm leather jacket and inhale his laundry soap, scared of his little dark grins of sin and his kind, puppy dog eyes that could melt concrete. You’re scared of how badly you’re drawn to this man.

And it only gets worse when, one day, you slip on some ice, all your art supplies scattering to the ground in slow motion, and he materializes out of thin air to catch you before you can hit the ground and join your prized sketchbook. 

“It’s okay, I got you…I got it,” he assures, holding your dry sketchbook up in the air with the hand not holding your waist. He caught the both of you like it was nothing, and your whole body fills with a warm thrill entirely against your will. What a fucking man. That’s your first thought. 

Your second, as you turn and run from him again, is absolutely not. 

You don’t notice you’ve left all your writing utensils behind.

TBC…