#on Pope

[cloveswifey]

Best-Friends

Parings: Pope heyward x fem!reader

Type: Fluff

Warnings: Fluff, crying, College - Harvard, best-friend trope

Words: 0.4k

In the sunny Outer Banks of North Carolina, there were two best friends named Pope and y/n. The two had grown up together, exploring the beaches, fishing on boats, and watching the stars together. They had always been inseparable, but as they grew older, their feelings for each other began to blossom into something more.

As high school came to an end, the two were faced with the reality that they would soon be leaving for separate colleges. Pope had always been a brilliant student, and he had received early acceptance to Harvard, a dream that he had been working towards for years.

Y/n was thrilled for Pope, but the thought of not having him around everyday was almost unbearable.

One evening, as they sat on the beach watching a sunset, y/n worked up the courage to confess her love for Pope.

"I know we've been best friends forever, Pope, but I have to tell you something. I love you, more than just a friend."

Pope's eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled. "I love you too, y/n. I have for a long time, but I was afraid to tell you."

The two held each other tight as they watched the sun dip below the horizon. They knew that their time together was short, but they were determined to make the most of it.

Over the summer, they took every opportunity to spend time together, going on romantic walks and picnics, and taking long drives on Pope's boat. Every moment felt precious, but they both knew they had to say goodbye eventually.

On the day they were set to leave for college, they stood on the beach where they had shared so many memories. Tears streamed down y/n's face as she hugged Pope tightly.

"I can't imagine life without you, Pope. But I know you'll do great things at Harvard, and I'll always be here for you."

Pope wiped away y/n's tears and leaned in to kiss her. "I'll miss you more than words can say, y/n. But I promise, we'll make it work. We'll find a way to make this love last."

As the two parted ways and began their journeys into the future, they felt a sense of hope that, no matter where life took them, they would always have each other in their hearts.

[bigandgreedy]

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[l0caltiredgirl]

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

[randommultifandomrants]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

[memingursa]

Rabid Joe Biden about to bomb the Vatican

[okayxairen]

Pictured: The Pope's steam account.

[natti-ice]

being completely obsessed with him stretching you out

18+ mdni

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated<3

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he’s always been very well endowed, when you first started hooking up you realized he’s much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before- at first it was intimidating, until you found out how much you love being filled up by him. He gently runs his tip up and down your slit, making you whimper as it gently grazes your clit, he lets out a pleased hum as he watches your reaction. “Easy baby, I’ll be gentle I promise- stay still for me” you try so hard to ground yourself, gripping onto the bed sheets as you anticipate his entry, you could feel your arousal dripping down to your ass. He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly slips the tip in, immediately his girth starts to stretch you, you always gasp softly no matter how many times you’ve done this it still feels like the first.

A deep groan rumbles through his chest “shit, you’re so fucking wet for me sweetheart.” your eyes shut as the pleasure washes over you, he slowly pumps into you adding a little bit more of his length with each stroke until he’s all the way in. You can feel every detail of his cock against your walls, you’ve never known such bliss before- you didn’t even want to cum, you wanted to stay in this moment forever.

[sageworld]

there’s just something about bestfriend!rafe who’s just obsessed with your boobs…

“stop it, rafey.” you giggle, making it look not purposeful when you bend over, pushing your plush ass into him in a weak attempt to get him away.

“come on, sweetness just one picture.” he begged. you and rafe had gotten pretty fucked up last night at toppers, resulting in you just sleeping at his house in whatever you had left there. “fine, but you can’t show anyone.” you pretend to be annoyed, but rafe can see right through it.

you were always weak when it came to rafe, always giving into his needs. he wanted a beer at the party? you were coming back within minutes. he wanted a blow job? you bet your fat lips were wrapped around his cock the second you got alone. you knew it was wrong, he was your bestfriend and many times you scared off his girlfriends and vice versa. the two of you constantly fucked like bunnies no matter what the conditions were.

“deal.” rafe smiled pulling down your top, exposing both of your large breasts he had grown to love so much. “there’s my girls.” rafe smiled and bent down to kiss both of your hard nipples.

“just one rafey.” you pulled one tit back into the top as rafe sat his phone up, muttering something about boring. “well if i’m so boring you can just never see them again” you tease, attempting to pull your other boob back into your top. “no no no no i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it, one is great.” rafe yanked the top down.

you pose into the camera, one of rafe’s large hands covering your exposed boob, giving it a nice squeeze. “you’re like a little sex doll.” rafe says randomly. “what?” you laugh, after the photos taken, pulling away from him. “i don’t know you’re just like a sex doll, you look like one.” he somewhat chuckles towards the end, pulling your top down to expose your other breast again.

“thanks? i guess.” you embrace rafes new hold on you with a giggle. both hands grabbing handfuls of your ass, as he leans down to suck your nipples.

just know he made that picture his lock screen.

[eyeofthetoto]

"Ayo this sex stuff sounds kinda lit"

~The actual pope, from the Vatican, probably

[ID: There is a picture of Pope Francis speaking and the abstract says, "Pope Francis has said that sexual pleasure is 'a gift from God' that should be 'disciplined with patience'." End ID]

[chiptrillino-art]

(ID in ALT text)

just some kuruk tests

[thelightattheendofthistunnel]

[ravenqueensspecialboi]

-The Pope, apparently, 2024

[canisalbus]

Have you drawn Vittorio before? I'd like to see what he looks like pls.

Vittorio's design has given me more trouble than I expected, I'm still not sure if I'm happy with his looks. He's Machete's trusted personal secretary, a small and modest but resourceful and resilient man. I think he's somewhere in his mid 20's.

[disacurveball]

he saw that he could do possibly the funniest thing imaginable and did it.

“There is an air of faggotry in the Vatican”

[cherrycosmosi]

always stay demure. be mindful of why you were invited to tumblr. that does not include reading smut at 8:30 am.