#dieter Hellstrom x Emmanuelle Mimieux

[whiteskullofroses]

I'm using google translate so I'm sorry for any mistakes so could you do another imagine of dieter of inglorious bastards him fucking a spy caught by SS in the car and then he lets her go

A/N: Thank you for the request, sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy:)

Warnings: just regular smut, nothing too crazy.

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"Your accent, its terrible."

(Dieter Hellstrom x reader)

It was a hot summer day. People were going on about their business, just as you did. Although your task for today was nothing but seeking into other people's businesses. Today you had one mission and one mission only. To gather as much information about the planned cinema burning and the killing of Hitler.

You and Shosanna had been friends for a long time, and after she told you of her genius plan, you befriended Aldo, who took you under his wing and gave you the task of being a spy for his group.

As you walked through the French streets and desperately tried to find Shosanna, you figured that the best place to find her was indeed, the cinema.

Walking past numerous posters of the Movie premiere and countless Nazis, you turned left and right, and after about 15 minutes finally reached the cinema.

Letting out a sigh of relief as you saw her spelling out 'Stolz der Nation' in black letters on the building, you quickly crossed the road and called out for her.

She turned around carefully on her ladder and recognized your voice: "Y/N! How are you doing?"

Walking closer to the ladder, you gave her a look and spoke quietly, still out of breath from all the running around: "We need to talk."

Shosanna slowly nodded in return, recognizing it must be something regarding future events.

"Listen, Aldo sent me here an-" You were suddenly cut off by an unfamiliar voice: "Emmanuelle Mimieux?"

Silence

You turned around to see two young men, one an SS officer, the other a regular, looking at the two of you seriously and with a hint of curiosity.

Glancing up at Shosanna, realising you were so tempted to reach her you completely discarded your surroundings as The SS officer grabbed you by your shoulder.

Giving a stern look to the other man and then leering his gaze back up to Shosanna: 'tu la fais monter dans la voiture.'

Your friend's breath caught in her throat as she heard his words.

The man motioned to her, obeying The SS officer's orders to get her in the car.

"Deutsch?" He asked you, slightly loosening his grip on your shoulder once he got a good look at your face. All you could do was shake your head, you weren't German, you were American for God's sake! You knew some French, but German? Hell no.

He sighed and put a hand on the small of your back, pushing you into the back seat of the car as Shosanna sat in the front.

The car started and there was dead silence. Both of you were scared, you didn't know why you were there and why they took the two of you, but you knew that resisting an SS officer was like committing the most heinous crime in the German owned lands.

The Officer turned to you and gave you his hand to shake. Taking it as he introduced himself, you felt a pang of unease joit through you, like you were about to throw up from the anxiety. Swallowing hard you used the little French you had to return the gesture.

The more you looked at him, the more you eyed his form in the unifrom, the more handsome he started to become.

Clearing your throat and faking a cough, quickly shaking the thoughts away with slight guilt, you shifted your eyes to the window and waited for the car to finally stop.

After about 20 minutes you arrived at the destination, which appeared to be a fancy restaurant, decorated with swastikas and various plants. As the officer opened the door, you followed him, but he stoped you in your tracks.

"Non," smiling charmingly: "tu restes ici." With that he got out of the car and lead Shosanna into the restaurant, his caullege following shortly behind him.

Your mind was racing, feeling like your brain was about to explode at any second. Why would he let you stay in the car? You figured you could just walk out and leave, but that would be far too risky. In his mind, you hopefully, didn't have any reason to run and hide away. Suspicion would rise and you would soon be heading to your own execution God knows where.

Turning on your spy side of the brain, you decided to stay where you were, as you were barely able to move a muscle from all the stress.

You saw the resturant door open and was met with Dieter stepping outside. He slowly made his way to the car and opened the driver's seat, starting the car and setting off.

Saying you were afraid was an understatement . Gaining the courage to speak up, you asked politely where he was driving to: "Je suis desole, ov vas-tu?

He looked at you in the rear view mirror and announced loudly: "Oh don't worry sweetheart. Were going somewhere you'll enjoy..."

oh shit.

Now you're in deep deep shit.

His accent was almost perfect as he spoke, which caught you off guard, but that wasn't important, your life could be over at any second. Every minute passing by could be your last.

"How did you know?" You question, honestly surprised at how quckly he figured you out.

Dieter laughed out loud, his laugh piercing your ears: "Your accent, darling." He lit a cigarette with one hand, keeping the other on the wheel: "Its terrible, i'm not French and i even know that."

Shaking his head lightly and glancing back at you: "Now tell me," taking a puff of his cigarette and exhaling the smoke: "What's your name name. Not the one you were forced to give me, american doll."

"Y/N." You proclaimed coldly, clearly seeing how much he was enjoying himself: "Y/N Y/L/N."

He stopped the car at a wooded area, out of sight to everyone, except for the few cars driving by now and then. You could immediately sence the coldness of the forest with the windows rolled down. The gentle breeze like a balm to your soul, soothing you while knowing this was your end. He got out of the driver's seat and opened the door to the seat next to you and sat down.

"Listen to me now, little girl." He picked you up from your sit and placed you down onto his lap, you gasped and tried to break away, but he was far stronger than you: "We have quite a... situation going on here. Don't we?"

You give up on trying, just sinking in your own mind as you nodded and looked into his eyes. He was so handsome. It was so hard to admit, but he truly was.

"Now," brushing a stray strand of hair and tucking it behind your ear as he spoke: "Roll down your hips for me, darling..." His voice husky, deep lust growing in his eyes.

You hesitated for a second, before eventually giving in. Rolling down your hips against his bulge, you quickly realised where all this was leading to.

"You feel that, huh?" He whispered into your ear with that same husky tone like before: "You did that, mein Schatz."

With that he firmly placed both of his hands on both sides of your hips and pressed you further into him: "May I?"

Without thinking, you nodded. The way he smelled, the way he looked at you, the way he teased you, it turned you on more than you would like to admit.

Dieter immediately unzipped his uniform pants, revealing his hard cock to you.

You gasped as he suddenly, without any warning, put his hand under your skirt and moved your panties to the side, pushing himself into you and smashing his lips against yours, almost as if he tried to comfort you from the slight pain of the sudden penetration.

Moaning into the kiss, as you slowly got used to his size, Dieter groaned out in a deep and breathless tone: "Ride me, Y/N."

You started riding him at a slower pace first, getting used to the small space of the car and him gasping in your ear. It was so hot to see him completely lose all of his earlier stern demeanor and fall so sensitive to how you feel around his cock.

"Y/N, oh that's good, just like that baby, just like that." Dieter could barely speak, the pleasure of your hips swaying back and forth almost too much for him to handle.

And you were no better than him, moaning his name like a hot mess, feeling confident by the sight of him throwing his head back against the car seat, you started bouncing up and down.

Dieter's response was immediate, groaning out in pleasure louder than before, his breath quickening and his grip on your hips tightening.

The car moved with your hips, the fact that anyone driving by could only imagine what's happening inside made you feel a new level of excitement.

His moans, his hot breath against your ear as he praised you, his grip on your hips, it became too much.

"Dieter!" You cried out: "I'm gonna come!"

With your confession, he felt himself getting close too, his hips matching your rhythm: "Me too, I'm so close- Oh!" With that both of you came at the same time. Your breaths catching in your throat as you rode out both of yall's highs, swaying your hips back and forth again before collapsing onto him.

Your head fell to the crook of his neck and he put a hand in the back of your head as you did that, gently running a hand through your hair as the two of you calmed down together.

Eventually, you raised your head from his neck and looked into his eyes: "Am I free to leave now, officer?"

He gave you a playful slap on the butt and smiled: "Go, and let's hope we meet again soon, Schatzi..."

THE END.

[one-boring-person]

Hey! So I found your ask box so here's my request again : dieter hellstrom x Shoshanna, where they begin the relationship on a hate basis (I know I'm a very healthy person 😂 lol) so I don't know if this inspires you or not, if it doesn't, feel free to do whatever you like 😊 have a nice day/or night!

Thank you again!

I hope this is kinda what you had in mind, though I think I might've gotten a bit carried away😅

What Do You Want?

Major Dieter Hellstrom (Inglorious Basterds) x Shosanna Dreyfus/Emmanuelle Mimieux

Warnings: slight sexual themes but not much

Masterlist

Those ice blue eyes still hold her captive, still fill her with hatred, even as they bore into her with a new darkness. Their intensity and the piercing nature of the major's stare drives her backwards into the grimy wall behind her, his quietly commanding presence stifling in the cool winter air. Mentally, she tells herself it's the long leather overcoat that gives him this intimidating appearance, that his narrow figure underneath doesn't exude the same silent power, even though she can't help but wonder if it does.

The frigid azure of his eyes had been what Shosanna first took notice of when she met the Sturmbannführer Hellstrom, all those weeks ago when he'd called her down from the safety of her ladder. They had instantly made her uneasy, as disdainful of her as she is of him. "Mademoiselle Mimieux" he'd called her. Not Emmanuelle, as that idiot Zoller and his superior, the cruel Landa, had initially called her. The measure of detached respect, indifferent formality, had never left his tone when he spoke to her in the following weeks, something that only allowed her distaste for him to smoulder and grow. Neither had it left his blue eyes, Hellstrom's gaze almost always remaining impassive of her where others had instantly been overcome with that desire that so quickly comes to some men. It annoyed her that he could be so removed from the cruelty of his kind, that he could just ignore everything wrong with the people he served.

Somehow, that detachedness has now become the very opposite - a territorial coolness now resides in those icy depths.

Shosanna can smell the faint hint of cologne on Hellstrom's collar as he steps far past the boundaries of her personal, and then her intimate, space. It's sharp and biting, like him, not strong and overpowering, following the more subtle power he seems to exert. The light chemical reek of his hair gel also perpetuates the air around him, though it's far outplayed by the crisp, fresh smell of his uniform, which is pristine and meticulously pressed, as always. 

She keeps her gaze baleful, somewhat cautious but still portraying the usual dislike she makes sure to keep in every glance she sends his way. 

Ever since that first day, Hellstrom had appeared around the cinema multiple times, almost always on work duty. As Goebbels had eventually chosen her cinema as the venue for his latest detestable film, the security measures in place had to be inspected very often, to make sure nothing that needed attending to came up. Unfortunately, Colonel Landa had put Hellstrom to the job, meaning Shosanna has had to see the young major far more times than she'd like. He never spoke to her, not in French anyway. Any interrogative questions he had he'd ask in cruel, sinister-sounding English, never resorting to the language of the country he currently resides in; she'd often wondered if he could even speak it at all. This fact, on top of others, only increased her disgust of the man. Who is he to think he's above speaking the language of his current residence?

The major has always shown a certain hostility to Marcel (for obvious reasons, she knew, though would never understand), his lips turning into a scathing downturn any time he saw her lover with her. Annoyingly, however, Marcel had taken her close attention to the major's actions and whereabouts as a sign of attraction to the man, and so had grown increasingly absent. Shosanna had noticed Hellstrom watching an argument of theirs once, recently. It was the first time she saw his lips twitch into a smirk since that first meeting with Goebbels, when he'd given them all a sickly-sweet falsification of a smile. She had thought at the time that he simply enjoyed seeing her distressed.

That same gleam of sadistic amusement has crept into the frosty blue of his eyes now, his body crowding her against the wall even further. Glaring at him in badly concealed confusion and repulsion, Shosanna speaks for the first time since he found her in the alley behind the cinema.

"What do you want, Hellstrom? Why are you here?" She asks him in English, knowing her French is futile. She's long since stopped calling him major, unless around others.

Suddenly, those malicious lips twist into a horribly knowing leer. 

The expression is unnerving, catching Shosanna off-guard as he stares at her, the smirk not quite reaching his eyes yet. For a moment, she's convinced he's worked out her true identity.

"Emmanuelle, you and I both know what I want." She blinks as he speaks. 

So Major Dieter Hellstrom can, indeed, speak French. His voice is still as smooth and controlled as always, German accent only just biting at his fluid intonation, the sound somehow registering deep inside her.

Still, she regains her composure and lifts a single eyebrow.

"I don't believe I do." She replies haughtily.

Shock snaps through her as his large, pale hands suddenly slam into the wall beside her, caging her in. Eyes widening inadvertently, she looks up at him, fearful now, even as hatred courses through her. Another emotion brews inside her, but she tamps it down quickly; she cannot acknowledge that one, it's against all she stands for.

His breath, odourless and warm, blows lightly over her face as Hellstrom leans down close to her, the grin gone from his handsome face: yet another show of falsity.

"Don't play stupid." The major presses himself closer to her, body mere centimetres away from her as he lowers his head to her ear, "I want the same thing you do."

She struggles to keep her disgusted expression on her face as his hot breath ghosts over her ear, unable to stop herself from shuddering under his piercing gaze. 

Silently, she curses his observational skills, hating how perceptive he obviously is, yet another reason to despise him add-in itself to her long mental list. 

"What, you thought you could hide it? From your "lover"? Me? Yourself?" His tone is mocking, lips curling into a sneer again, "And here Landa said you were clever."

She wants to spit at him. Wants to spit and wipe that cruel smirk from his lips. But she can't bring herself to do so, so she settles for slapping him instead.

His pale skin colours slightly from where her hand has connected with his face, his face jerking to the side. As he slowly turns back to her, her blood goes cold. Those icy blue eyes are dark with fury now.

Quick as a flash, he has her chin in a harsh grip, fingers and thumb pressing hard into her flesh. Pulling her face close to him, he leans in, practically snarling as he speaks.

"Deny it all you want, Hure, but you know I'm right." Hellstrom growls to her, body rigid.

Quickly, he crushes his body against hers and smashes their lips together, holding her face in place as he kisses her, hard. It's with an almost bruising force that he presses her back into the wall, lips moving messily against hers, his free hand pinning her hands to the wall as she tries to fight him off. Disgust and rage fills her, until she finally realises something: a part of her is keeping her from making a real effort against this. If she really didn't want to kiss him, she'd fight back properly...but she's not…

The realisation makes her go slack in his grip, eyes wide. 

Hellstrom notices and pulls back, only enough to stare into her eyes, breathing heavily. Looking at him now, she feels herself battling inside, torn between two options. 

Finally, her primal urges win and a carnal strength takes over her. Shosanna leans in and kisses the major hard,arching his power as he kisses back, lips and teeth crashing together in a rough, messy mix, hands groping at each other, feeling over previously hostile bodies, which still remain wary of each other. The wall is hard and unforgiving behind her, and so is Hellstrom's body in front of her, his hips now pinning her in place as he kisses her, licking at her lips. Desire and want floods her system, stronger than she'd ever felt it, taking over her very sense, moans and sighs accompanying his grunts and groans as they move together roughly, tension building between them.

"Emmanuelle?" Marcel's voice interrupts her impassioned thoughts, drawing her from the violently pleasant sensations of the major, who pulls back abruptly. 

Separating, the two turn to look down the alley, towards the lone figure at the end, who looks rightfully downcast, shocked and horrified at what he's likely experienced.

Guilt floods Shosanna at the sight of him, but the cruel smirk that creeps onto Hellstrom's lips once more only stirs up a stronger need for the intoxicating man. She can only watch helplessly as he adjusts his clothes and strides down the alley towards Marcel, clearly giving him a knowing look as he passes, shooting Shosanna one last glance before he disappears. 

It's a glance that promises more.