Happy Birthday Lu! - Tumblr Posts
Freckles and Rigatoni Lines
Happy birthday, @ghelullu :) ♡
content: 850 words, copia x gn!reader, can be read as papa or cardi, slightly suggestive/post sex, naked cuddles, cake eating, tooth-rotting fluff, MDNI
His hair tickles you awake.
At least you think you must have fallen asleep because you can’t remember it being dark outside when you closed your eyes. Copia is wrapped around you like a blanket, all soft skin and easy snores. You shift a little to release the pressure on your neck only to feel the stray crumbs of the cake you shared earlier pressed to your side, some frosting melting against your skin.
You feel sticky in other places as well which makes you smile against his neck. Copia had promised you the day would end with sweets and orgasms. Not that you ever doubted him or his abilities to make this a reality but in truth you still struggled to believe your luck in finding this man.
He is a furnace and it’s not exactly cold in the room, but you can’t bring yourself to move just yet. The shower can wait until you’ve had your fill of the remaining smell of his cologne and the feel of his sweaty skin glued to yours. Your belly is all fizzy but not from the delicious food you shared over dinner. He had made sure the day would be perfect, in all aspects, and the happy butterflies were untameable tonight. You felt loved – wholly, supremely loved.
Your head rests on his shoulder, one leg tucked between his and his arms keep you pressed against his hairy chest. There is little wiggle-room, but you manage to slide one hand up and draw a soft line over his love handle, back and forth. He is so soft, faint stretch marks littering his sides, the rigatoni lines as he likes to call them, and you press your lips to his Adam’s Apple.
Copia hums, half-awake, his fingers curling over your buttocks. You chuckle and he only pulls you tighter, exaggerated as though he wants to pull you into him. When he releases you with a sigh one of his hands settles on your knee, the other on your upper back. You squeeze his hip and he smiles lazily down at you, eyes crusty and curtained by loose strands of hair that have fallen into his face. He looks lovely, happy, content.
“More cake?” he asks.
You shake your head, bringing your hand up to brush the hair from his face. Through his smeared eye paints your thumb is greeted by countless freckles as you swipe it over his cheekbone. Summer suits him, you think, those Mediterranean genes thriving with the increased sunlight. They stand out prominently, patches of brown spots littering his skin all across his body. Looking at him feels like you’re on vacation, a reminder why summer is not all bad.
“I’m quite content,” you whisper, tracing the lines of his face until you reach his very pink lips.
He traps your thumb with them, then grabs your hand to press more kisses to your palm, your fingers, your knuckles. He is soft, though his cheeks feel a little scratchier now at the end of the day. It’s a lovely contrast.
“That was my goal,” he says, leaning in for a lazy kiss. “Though I would not say no to the other half in the fridge.”
“Only if you grab it,” you mumble, the thought of leaving the bed not at all enticing.
“Ah, I spoil you for one day and already you got used to it,” he grumbles playfully.
Instead of a reply you lean in for another kiss, this time with more effort. He reciprocates, releasing your hand in favour of cradling your cheek. You sigh, tugging at his hair a little until he opens his lips and deepens the kiss. His tongue moves against yours and you think that perhaps you do want some cake after all, if only to kiss the frosting from his lips when you’re done.
“You can be very convincing, amore,” he says after breaking away, looking at your pleading face in contemplation. “Ah shit, okay, I will get it.”
You roll onto your back once you manage to untangle your sticky limbs and it feels good to straighten out your spine for a moment. Your body aches in the way only a beautiful day makes you ache, tired but happy bones. You smile when you hear Copia rummaging in the kitchen, the fridge door opening and closing with a healthy set of excited giggles.
He returns with two forks and a generous slice of cake to share. When he sinks down beside you you sit up and allow him to feed you the first bite. It tastes better now in the quiet of the night, a treat after a treat – second dessert.
“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss some frosting from his chin. “It was a lovely night, a lovely day.”
He smiles, proud and happy, closing the gap for one of those sweet, sugary kisses you’ve been exchanging all evening. “Only the best for my baby.”
“Does that mean I get the last piece of cake?”
A frown, lips pursed as he stabs a crumb with the fork. “Ah, I would not go that far, amore. There are limits to my generosity.”
I hope you enjoyed! Happy birthday again ♡ (header credit)