Trump Tales (Donald Trump x reader)

Chapter 10

~Donald's POV~

It's been about 3 weeks since the incident with (Y/N) and I can't take it any longer. It's killing me that we haven't spoken. I know it's my fault, but I would never admit that. I'm never wrong about anything, so how could I have messed up this time?

As I'm rolling up a joint to relieve my stress, my darling daughter walks in.

"Daddy," Ivanka whines as she stomps over to my desk in heels longer than my dick, which, mind you, is quite long.

I try not to think of (Y/N) but I can't help it. Daddy had always been (Y/N)'s pet name for me, and it saddened me to think that I hadn't heard it for quite some time.

"What is it, Ivanka, I was just about to smoke," I explain to her with an eye roll. She crosses her arms under her breasts and they bounce. Usually, something like this would have turned me on. Despite Ivanka being my daughter, she was still a hot piece of ass. Now, though, that I know love, true true love, I can only think of one special person, and that's...

"Daddy, I need some money," she complains. I know she doesn't. She's rich. But then I remembered my father and all he's done for me. I grab a briefcase sitting under my desk and slide it across the table to her.

"There's a small loan of a million dollars, okay? Now leave me so I can smoke in peace," I tell her.

"Why did you just have this under your desk?" She asks me. I can't even answer her, though, before my eyes tear up and I had to turn away.

The truth was, that money was for (Y/N). A sort of bribe, if you will, to get us back to the way we were. Every night when I went to bed, I dreamed of (Y/N). I would dream of our passion, our romance, our...

"Whatever," I hear Ivanka chime as her heels click on the wooden floor. Damn, was that bitch really still in here? Doesn't she have a life?

I light my blunt and stare out the window. The video was never released to the press, meaning (Y/N) must have accepted Hillary's deal. What a bitch she is. Stealing everything that's rightfully mine. I can only hope that (Y/N) is okay...

~Second Person POV~

You had to take the deal. You just had to. Despite your dispute with Daddy Donald, you couldn't bear to let anything bad happen to him. So, you accepted Hillary's deal.

Back stage at the 'What Happened' book tour, you sat impatiently, twiddling with your thumbs. Hillary had taken you with her as she promoted her new book, and you couldn't stand it. Her book was completely bullshit. Democrats are idiots, and so is she. You couldn't help but think of Trump as you pull a fidget spinner out of your pocket. It was one of the ones you had used the night you... well... you know.

"I'm back," Hillary chimes as she barges into her dressing room where you were told to wait. Ugh, this woman truly is disgusting.

"I saw this man in the audience out there, and can I just say wow? He was SMOKING HOT! Don't tell Bill," she said as she began removing her makeup.

"I don't care," you stated simply.

"Oh, but you should, because I'm in the mood," she said.

The mood. That was her way of saying she wanted sex. You didn't want to give it to her, but in order to keep Trump safe, you had to.

"Come on," she said as she began getting undressed, "my husband will be here shortly."

You nearly threw up as she exposed her wrinkly body. Although you had seen it before for similar purposes, it never ceased to disgust you. Trump's body was different. Each wrinkle made him look more and more like a raisin. And you loved raisins.

His orange skin complemented by his oddly blonde chest hair was the only image you needed to be aroused. As you thought of him, you remembered all the good times you shared...

After the whole sex with Hillary thing happened, she got dressed and exited the room, locking it behind her. You were left alone again.

You went over to a cooler in the corner of the room. Floating on top of the ice were bottles of water. You shoved your hand to the bottom of the cooler and retrieved one of the well concealed beers that lie underneath. You popped it open and took a sip.

You soon spit it out, because it was lite beer, and you aren't a pussy.

"God dammit, Hillary, what the fuck," you exclaimed in disgust as you chucked the beer bottle into the trash. You rolled your eyes and fell back into your chair.

"Fuck my life," you thought to yourself as you picked up your phone from the coffee table.

And then, there it was, the one and only thing needed to brighten your day.

iMessage -
Trump: hey gorgeous ;)

You swooned at his choice of words and quickly responded.

iMessage-
Y/N: Hey, how are you?
Trump: pissed off, I wanna see u
Y/N: I wanna see you too
Trump: how's the book tour?
Y/N: It fucking blows, Hill only drinks lite beer.
Trump: hah, pussy bitch

You giggled as you read his texts, but your happiness was short lived when you heard he door knob jiggle. You quickly stashed your phone before Hillary could enter.

"Come on, baby, we gotta keep moving or we'll never make it to Nevada on schedule," she said in her bitchy tone. You rolled your eyes and stood up from your seat.

~Donald's POV~

I'm lighting my third blunt now and (Y/N) hasn't responded. Crooked Hillary probably fucked shit up again. I stagger over to the mirror and look at myself. I'm a fucking mess.

My toupee is precariously perched atop my head and threatens to fall off. My spray tan is wearing off so now I just look like a normal tan person, I should probably fix that. My eyes are red, from crying or from being high? I couldn't tell you the answer. Losing (Y/N) was the worst thing that ever happened to me.

"Don't worry," I told the picture of (Y/N) I keep in my wallet, "I will fix this."

And with that, I placed a kiss on the picture and placed my wallet into my pocket. I strutted into the tanning salon and slammed my fists on the counter.

"Make me orange again."