#and I only found out that this lovely bona fide fan holiday existed last night

[its-cosmerely-an-obsesh-wound]

Happy Shakadolin Day!

Below is a snippet from my explicit Shakadolin fic, Another Way To Help. I would say what I included below is rated mature because it's mostly feel-good—but merciless—puns (those are the only type of puns I know) with a little making out towards the end but we fade to black before it gets too heated.

Adolin lifted the hair at the base of Kaladin’s neck and winced. “Sorry.”

“What?” Kaladin asked.

“I may have left a few marks.” Curious, Kaladin crossed the room to his mirror and washbasin, Adolin trailing behind him with the brush.

A few was an understatement. As Kaladin looked at his neck in the mirror, it looked like someone had incessantly bludgeoned his neck with the butt of a spear for a good hour or so. He smiled. They didn’t hurt and, frankly, it was nice to have been marked by pleasure instead of pain or suffering for once. He was surprised that the stormlight that he had used, since healing his backside, hadn’t healed the marks, but perhaps it hadn’t been enough. Although no amount of stormlight ever seemed to heal his brands. Were these like the brands? If so, he might have to borrow a cravat from Adolin. The princeling would probably love that. He nearly groaned at the thought then drew in some stormlight with the intention of healing the bruises. They faded and Kaladin felt an odd sense of loss at their disappearance.

“No harm done, princeling. And no need to pay me for services rendered.”

“What?”

“Marks.” Kaladin said, gesturing at the bowl of spheres on the table.

“Storms, man. That is bad.”

“Good one, Kal!” Shallan called around a mouthful of fruit from the table.

Adolin rolled his eyes.

“The two of you are going to be insufferable with the wordplay, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps. Would it cause you too much suffering to know that, if you left me a few marks for last night, it would make me feel like a whore able person?” Shallan spit out her juice laughing and Kaladin grinned at her.

“Storms, Shallan, what have you done to the bridgeboy? You’ve corrupted him.”

“Me? I did nothing. He’s naturally this clever.” She said eyeing Kaladin fondly, as she fished around the bowl of spheres and grabbed a diamond chip. She walked over to them and Kaladin immediately knew where this was going. She placed the money on Adolin’s shoulder.

“You’ve got a real chip on your shoulder about all this, Adolin Kholin.” Shallan said collapsing into a fit of giggles and Kaladin chuckled more at her joy and Adolin’s expression than the pun itself.

Adolin growled. Rolling his eyes. “You. Two. Are. Insufferable.”

“Really? You look you could stand to suffer more…I thought that joke was a real gem.”

“Yes. Very lighthearted, I’d say.”

“Har har.”

“Okay, no more cheap jokes. We promise!” Shallan beamed. Adolin gave her a flat stare and Kaladin laughed.

“Shallan,” Kaladin said smiling and covering his mouth in a stage whisper, “I don’t think Adolin is having pun anymore.”

“I am not.”

“Halving pun? That’s the problem! He needs the whole pun.”

“Storms.” Adolin shook his head.

“Sorry, Adolin. We’ll stop.” Kaladin relented, then gestured at Adolin’s bandaged hand. “I’d hate to add insult to injury.”

“That was a low blow, Kal.” Shallan said grinning.

“I have something low you can blow.” Adolin ventured.  

“I think I’d rather beat around the bush…” Shallan reached for the waistband of her husband’s trousers, palming him through the fabric and giving him a quick kiss.

“You both talk too much.” Adolin said pulling Shallan into a more passionate embrace. Shallan melted into him. Frankly, Kaladin felt that they both talked too much but saying as much would risk of proving Adolin’s point at present. As the kiss continued though, Kaladin started to feel awkward again and backed away from them slowly.

“I’ll just…see myself out.” He mumbled, gesturing at the door with his thumb, but Adolin seized his wrist.

“Oh no you don’t.” Adolin pulled Kaladin in too, pressing his hips into Kaladin and holding him fast about the waist. “You like puns, bridgeboy? Well, I have a bone to pick with you.” Kaladin groaned.

“And I have something I need to get off my chest.” Shallan announced, gesturing to the buttons on her top. “A little help, bridgeboy?”

“Enough tongue in cheek and more tongue in my cheek.” Adolin admonished, pulling Shallan back in for another kiss as Kaladin dutifully started undoing Shallan’s buttons.

He smiled fondly at them, he hadn’t thought anyone or anything could help him a couple days ago but he had been wrong. They were helping by just being here. Not that he was complaining about what they were currently doing or, rather, undoing. Shallan had her hands on his belt and Adolin’s deft fingers were working their way down his shirt buttons. Perhaps his trepidation about being more than friends with both of them had been unfounded. Shallan moved to kiss up into him from the front and Adolin kissed down his neck, embracing him from behind, likely leaving new bruises in his wake, but Kaladin could handle a few more marks. The fight wasn’t out of him yet and, although he did feel pleasantly overwhelmed at present, he definitely was not frozen like before, as their heat surrounded him. Kaladin’s last coherent thought as they were disrobing him was to idly wonder if a person could be fucked to death because, in his estimation, if one could, there were much worse ways to go than in the arms of friends he loved and who loved him.

If you want celebrate this lovely occasion with more Shakadolin fanfic reading, both of my current WIPs are Shakadolin (because brainrot) but I won't lie this time and say I'm shamelessly promoting them because guilt and shame are are my constant companions in life. Guiltily and shamefully, here are my other Shakadolin WIPs:

Kharbranth University (rated: mature; might be triggering for some so please mind the tags)

A Promise Full Filled (rated: explicit; again please mind the tags)