Des Edelmannes Töchterlein, heia hoho // soll heute uns’re Buhle sein, heia hoho. (oder, ‘n bisschen deutlicher: will heute noch geschändet sein, heia hoho.) [Ich nehm auch den Sohn vom Edelmann, ich bin da nicht so. Der Mann muss auch nicht sonderlich edel sein. Naja, du verstehst schon was ich meine.]
An invitation (for lunch, the theater, a ceremony, tea..)
Himmler being sickened by the reality of his genocide
abuse, abuse, more abuse ~
B E A S T I A L I T Y
❤️ torture 💔
tumblr problem
In case we don’t reblog your fill within 24 hours, pls let us know (by ask for example). We’re not ignoring you on purpose. For some reason several reblogs and even mentions haven’t popped up on our activity page…
I feel like I deserve fic about Udet’s lovely little prick — go on and write me some!
Hate sex
Goebbels always have him nasty glares and dirty looks, and Himmler knew how much he hated his guts, and the acid he spewed behind his back and in front of him dripped with hatred, and it wasn’t like Himmler didn’t feel the same way; how he’d love to ruin his pretty porcelain face, and to wipe that sly smirk off his face with a swift slap whenever he’d whisper a little quip inside the Führer’s ear, and how he’d chuckle softly with him, and he felt the anger boil inside of his skin as Goebbels would laugh and look at his Führer so lovingly with his dazzling eyes; it made his stomach sick, and Himmler hated every bit of it.
They always argued, but things had gone too far and too personal, and Himmler ended up delivering his dreamed back-handed slap across Goebbels’ face, two of his rings tearing two fresh, bleeding wounds into his cheek, and as he recovered from the shock, Himmler ended up grabbing him by his face without even realizing, and the harder he pressed his fingers into his face the more blood leaked out, and he winced in pain, and Himmler loved it; he loved seeing him in pain, and he hated him so much for creating these shameful, guilty feelings of lust inside of him, and only he knew the amount of pain he was going to deal next.
Himmler shoved the other man to the ground and without a word, loomed over him like a thunderstorm, and both their pants weren’t even halfway off, because as soon as he saw an entrance, he was in there, and Goebbels slammed his hands over his mouth before he could yelp like a desperate canine, and he saw the tears forming in Goebbels’ glossy eyes and how his teeth clenched together when he bit his lip; Goebbels’ fingers digging into his face and his whines and whimpers faintly audible with his mouth covered, as his legs were draped over Himmler’s arm and shoulder, trembling in agonizing pain as every raw thrust tore him both physically and mentally, and it hurt; he couldn’t feel his legs and lay sprawled on the floor like a dead animal once Himmler was done inflicting his own revenge, his knees buckled and his face damp with sweat and tears, as the ceiling seemed to blur before his eyes.
Reichblr Ficathon 