Polnareff x pregnant reader possibly one shot not sure yet

Polnareff comes home and rails you

*"On a hot summer night, do you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?'*

*"Yes."*

*"I bet you say that to all the boys..."*

As you start to play your favourite song for the 84th time today, a single tear drops down your cheek. 'Where is he? Where is my hubby?'

"I need my anchovy piz- OWOOEOWOWKWOWWWW-

Owwie Kung Fu master, calm down there...." You say, placing a hand on your huge belleh. You're pregnant not fat.

In the display of pain from your unborn child who clearly already hates your guts, you realize you've stood up. You start to dance around because you realize you've left Meatloaf playing on the brand new sound speaker system you forced Jean to buy you.

*Jean Pierre Polnareff....*

*Ughhhh...*

"I can't believe I'm giving birth to your fuckass pole head daughter"

You move to look at yourself and your round oven in the mirror. Your blimey-blinding-bazinga-bazoongas have grown significantly.

(Ace. You. Pregnant. Femboy. Transgenderbender.)

You clip your choppy bangs back and tie most of it into a ponytail when suddenly-

"OUI OUI BONJOUR JEMAPPELLE FRENCH"

Polnareff breaks through the door like the Kool Aid man.

"GODDAMMIT JEAN THAT'S THE 4TH TIME THIS WEEK. ALSO WHERE'S MY PIZZA?"

"Damn, knew I forgot something..."

"IM GONNA KILL YOU, YOU HAIRGEL ABUSING BASTARD."

*At this moment he knew, he fucked up.*

There is no escaping pregnant rage. Especially not yours.

"There's only one way to make it up to me..."

"And that is, honey buns?" He says hesitantly.

"Well, actually, now there's two. Please never call me that EVER again. And also have sex with me."

"I pick the second option, *honey buns*..."

You slap him across the face before he can say anything else, and then again, before he can comment, you aggressively shove your tongue in his mouth.

"Wai-wait..." Polnareff says between gasps. "Are you sure we should be.... Be doing this? What.... What about the.... The baby?"

"The baby'll be fine who cares" You say nonchalantly. 6'2 matcha drinking feminist RIGHT here.

You unzip his trousers and force him to take his own pants off because you can't be arsed to hurt your back. You look him directly in the eyes as you 'coochie coochie coo' his member awake. You make him take your pants off too. Again, wouldn't want to hurt the back, and again, fearing pregnant monster rage, Polnareff obliges.

He gently lays you down on the sofa, trying hard not to aggravate you, as he gives your kitty a small lick. It looks like a jungle. He doesn't care. Love, am I right?

Pole-head teases your gateway with his tip, carefully manuvering around your shiny, spherical mass of flesh with a person inside.

"Put it in." You say, rather aggressively.

"What?"

"I said hurry up you incompetent LOSER."

Polnareff starts to thrust his 10 inch horse cock into your thingading, still being gentle of the baby.

"You're shit at this. Deeper." You demand.

When all of a sudden Jean Pierre 'Pole head' Polnareff feels a warm, slippery, clear liquid seep from your nu nu.

"SHIT. OMG HOSPITAL JEAN, RIGHT NOW. FULLY NAKED I DONT CARE CARRY ME OUTSIDE. I'M HAVING THIS BABY."

Polnareff, too traumatized to do anything, doesn't move a muscle. He's completely frozen.

You slap him awake.

"I SAID CARRY ME TO THE CAR AND DRIVE."

"BUT-"

Slap.

"OKAY, OKAY, FINE."

And so he picks you up and runs. Dingalong swing grandfather clock style. It's so big it looks like a deformed, hairy third leg. New father to be puts you in the passenger seat and goes to the other side and starts driving. He's driving WAYY over the speed limit, almost fully naked, so, then, the obvious happens...

The cops pull you over.

To be continued.

LMAOOO IM SOBBINGGG IM SO FUNNYY