lil pimp- er I mean, lil pump: a fanmade sequel to infectious love

Who's this sexy ass thang?

(authors note: Just a short and fun chapter introducing lil pump. Warning: its a total shitshow)

After managing to gain his composure, Don gently set the puppy down on the floor, standing up to meet the gaze of the dick-tattooed man.

"Don, this is lil pump" biden announced, though he was too caught up in his own thoughts to completely grasp what his friend had said.

"Ah, Lil pimp, nice to meet ya" trump spoke with as much confidence he could muster, taking in everything about the man from his shitty fashion sense to that cursed aforementioned dick tattoo. After a moment and a sip of cherry coke for liquid courage, he extended his hand in an awkward attempt at a handshake.

"Actually, it's lil pump" Wallace interjected in an attempt to be polite, don realizing his mistake.

"Oh.. My bad. Nice to meet you lil pimp... Er- lil pump" don stammered, lil pump reaching to meet his outstretched hand.

"Esskeetit" pump replied with a smile, a blush creeping up don's orange fuckin cheeks

"Wait what does that even m-" carl attempted to interject, only to be interrupted by pump a second time.

"What U sayin?"

Carl sighed "I just don't know what any of that means and it doesn't make any se-"

"Smoke my dope"

"....anywa-"

"Welcome to the party"

"Are you speaking in the names of your songs?"

"Gucci Gang"

"Fucking shit that's weirder than that skin rash on my left asscheek" putin said, inserting himself into the discussion.

Wallace spoke up; "I uh- don't think we needed to know that"

"What? Its not like you haven't seen my ass before" putin replied in mock offense.

"Wrong" trump bellowed, his mouth opened so wide he could fit an entire god damn watermelon inside of the oraface. He paused for a moment before finishing. "We've seen your ass 162 times, learn to count"

"Okay I didn't need to know what y'all were getting up to in the sack" biden said, reminding everyone he was still there.

"It was huge" trump stated smugly, earning a chorus of "SHHHHHH" and "OKAY OKAY WE GET IT" from all of the men except for pump, who was standing there stoically, fiddling with his baseball cap.

It was only now that Don realized that he hadn't let go of pump's hand, an internal panic starting to eat at him. His thoughts were everywhere except where they should be.

Look. at. that. sexy. ass. Thang.
That do be a fine piece of ass on jah

Forced to acknowledge his feelings, he knew there was only one option if he planned to keep this on the downlow, no matter how enbarassing it would be.  Trump released his grip on pump's hand, walking over to the karoke machine in the corner of the room. Carefully selecting his track of choice, the music began to play, his annoying voice blaring into the microphone.

I said, certified freak

Seven days a week

Wet-ass pussy

Make that pull-out game weak, woo

Don sang the hit song wap by cardi b with as much passion as he could, it always seemed to calm his sexual desires, afterall. This time was proving to be difficult to shove his feelings down, but nevertheless, he persisted. Putin, Wallace and Carl looked on adoringly as biden facepalmed at the sight of the Cheeto man, pump simply giving a thumbs up from afar, don's heart aflutter. He felt ashamed, he was married, happy too, with the loves of his life. But, somehow, someway, he saw something in pump. Something new. Something interesting. Something special. Maybe it was worth exploring? He shook the thought, unable to bring himself to confess to Wallace and Carl, instead opting to finish the rest of the track. It appears, at least for now, he'll be stuck hiding his crush in his toupae of lies.