So This Shane Guy Is Kinda Cool

So this Shane guy is kinda cool

shane stardew valley is a jake johnson character. you agree.

Since your asks are open...a friends with benefits situation with Alex. Mayhaps Alex and farmer catch feelings, writers choice. Thanks. ✌

Alex FWB

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

Ohhh man you opened the door for ANGST so. Angst. NSFW under the cut!

“I’ve got you,” he breathes, pressing her against the door, “it’s okay.”

Dizzying. Everything’s dizzying between the presses of his lips and the wandering of his hands. Alex has his hands posted at the backs of her thighs, backing up and nearly staggering, but never threatening to drop her as he finds his way to the bedroom.

She wishes—not for the first time—that she had a sturdier bed. One Alex could throw her across and fuck her into the sheets on.

“Alex,” she chews her lip, batting her eyelashes up at him. She’s needy, “please?”

He’s so weak for it when she asks nicely. His face flushes and his eyes wander, and she fights the urge to make fun of him. That’ll come later, when they’re both goofing off and playing video games or working out.

Now she can’t risk killing the mood. Even if she thinks it’s so cute to see Alex bashful like this.

“How do you want me,” he smiles sheepishly when he asks, leans down and delicately places a hand on her thigh. Like they haven’t done this a million times. Like he wasn’t just carrying her. Like he couldn’t throw her around and take however he wants.

Considerate. He’s always so considerate.

“I want—” she stops, considers, “let me be on top?”

Alex is all too eager to comply. He’s shedding her clothes with a gentle purpose, trailing his mouth along newly exposed swathes of flesh and dropping everything gently into a pile. Until the both of them are undressed, and he’s on his back and she’s nigh on devouring him.

He smells like the shampoo she likes. His hands are on her hips the way she told him to do. His sounds are so hot, and beautiful, and painfully familiar that it aches.

Alex is comfort. Coming home after a long day. Drinking hot tea on a cold morning. Watching a movie for the hundredth time. That’s what he feels like.

It’s something that’s quickly becoming a problem. Something she’s getting too used to, needing too much.

It takes almost nothing before he’s inside her. Inch by beautiful inch, filling her in the way only he ever has. She can feel his hips twitching against hers, his thighs shifting and his fingers flexing, and she knows he’s holding off for her. Waiting for the okay, for the go ahead to fuck her so hard she sees stars.

“Alex,” she purrs it against his mouth, circles her hips and laces her fingers into her hair, “fuck me.”

And he does. Deep and hard and not too fast. He’s mindful not to grip her hips too hard, fingers flexing even as he flushes from his hairline to his collarbone.

He doesn’t ever leave marks—said it would be uncool. That if she got with somebody else, they might get the wrong idea. Plus, no evidence means nobody asks questions. Because what would granny think, him messing around with a friend he’s bot even dating.

She wishes he would. That he would bruise her and press himself into her skin. She wants to tell him that she’s not going to get with somebody else. She wants to tell him that she wants everybody to know what they get up to.

Because if they all know, maybe they won’t try to take him away. Nobody else will think they can have him, because he’s perfect and she’s selfish and she’s beginning to think she can’t spend her life having him but not having him.

She’s crying. Long since folded over on his chest, gasping and begging against his collarbone and so desperate to leave a hickey there. To leave them everywhere. To paint him in the purples and blues of someone who’s taken.

“Do you want me to make you come?” Alex’s voice is soft, if strained, and she can’t do anything but nod against him. Right now she’ll have to content herself with her tears drying on his skin. It’s not permanent, not visible, but it’s the best she has.

He does make her come. It echoes through her body; down and back and back and back again, and she thinks she would be falling apart if he weren’t holding her so tight. If he weren’t moaning sweet praise into her hair and bucking his hips like he’s trying to burrow himself inside of her permanently.

When he finishes she feels unsatisfied. She couldn’t handle any more, and he made her feel so fucking good, but she’s not had her fill. Because him being finished means him leaving soon. And she’s insatiable—she needs more. Needs him to hold her, and kiss her, and stroke her hair, and tell her he loves her, he loves her so much he can’t live without her anymore because she can’t live without him.

“You alright?” Once he has his presence of mind, he’s gentle in detaching them. He brushes the sweaty hairs out of her face. Rubs the places he knows she gets sore because he’s working on his physical therapy and he doesn’t want her to get all out of place, he said. Forces her to drink some water because he gets anxious about dehydration, especially when she gets weepy. Asks her if she wants something to eat because she just burned a lot of calories, and because she needs to refuel.

She wants to tell him to stop, that it’s too good, that it’s sun so bright on her skin it’s burning.

“Hey,” Alex strokes her face in the way he only ever does when he wants her attention, “you seem…I don’t know. If you want, I can stay? I know we don’t do that, really, but I could.”

“Granny would—“ she starts, and she sounds tired and like her protest is as forged as it is.

“I’ll worry about Granny,” Alex says, and tucks himself into her bed. “You seem like you need a friend right now.”

She doesn’t explain why that makes her sob, even when he asks.

I watched a 2.5 hour video essay on Sam the other day and this is the result.

Sam Sammy Samson (again) 🤘

So this Shane guy is kinda cool