josrich-oats:

(hoo boy just writing this is going to be the death of me)

It had been the first time in several months that Goebbels had felt so confident in such a large party, nonetheless confident enough to waltz around with such pizzazz in his stride as he roamed the ball room like a feline, and as luck would have it, Himmler was fortunate enough to witness the flashy grin Goebbels had been wearing, as he almost seemed like the life of the party, and he felt his heart getting charmed by his dashing looks and the way his tuxedo’s jacket tightened around the waist; his black dress pants clenching around his inner thighs and upper legs, and Himmler knew there was no way he was going to get away with looking so perfect tonight.

Himmler had brought him into the host’s study room with an iron grip on his arm, and whisked away everything on the sleek desk, and of course the mess would be nodded off on another drunken dame, as he planted Goebbels’ pretty porcelain face into the dark pine of the huge desk.

Every ferocious and frustrated thrust made every single nerve in Goebbels’ body numb with sheer cold, as he gripped the sides of the table until he could no longer feel his fingertips, and he could no longer feel his heels touch the floor as his legs continued to quiver and twitch; he didn’t know how much longer his legs could support him as the butterflies in his stomach fluttered beyond control, and Himmler leaving several scarlet colored marks on his neck as his grip on Goebbels’ sides tightened, and this just made Goebbels a ticking time bomb; he could only take so much painful pleasure before he’d break.

@reichblr-ficathon