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ausetkmt · 2 years

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Jon Caramanica

Caramanica is writing a forthcoming book about the life and cultural impact of Kanye West.

Oct. 19, 2022, 2:20 p.m. ET

We may not yet have hit the nadir of the current debacle of Ye, the artist formerly known as Kanye West, but Monday night’s interview with Chris Cuomo certainly felt like some kind of bottom.

In the back of an S.U.V. heading to a meeting with the chief executive of the conservative social media app Parler, Ye jousted with Cuomo for 20 minutes, largely rehashing the provocations he’s been harping on for the last two weeks: his anger with Jewish executives; his desire to think freely, independent of the expected Black celebrity narrative; and his belief that all Black people are Jews, and therefore he cannot be deemed antisemitic.

During one of a few fraught exchanges in which Cuomo pushed back on bigoted statements, Ye replied testily, “Are you gonna give me a platform? Are you gonna give me a platform?”

Throughout his career, Ye has gobbled up platforms — sometimes others’, sometimes ones he has built himself. The very act of consuming public oxygen has been a centerpiece of his art for two decades. And even though in recent years Ye has, time and again, expressed sentiments that have been uninformed, ill-phrased and profoundly concerning, he has routinely found ways — whether through the success of his business ventures, or by strategic disappearance and recalibration — to paper over the disturbances. He remains a tendentious superstar, but a superstar nonetheless.

But in this moment, following two straight weeks of offensive chatter — “I’m going death con 3 on Jewish people”; “the guy’s knee wasn’t even on his neck like that” (on George Floyd); “I prefer my kids knew Hanukkah than Kwanzaa. At least it will come with some financial engineering”; “Bernard Arnault killed my best friend” (on Virgil Abloh); and more — it’s challenging to imagine a future for Ye in which he bounces back as crisply as he has in the past. Alienating people, even loyalists who hope he’ll return to old form, has always been part of Ye’s cost of doing business, but now it is threatening to become his core achievement..

Call it what you will — a heel turn, a villain arc, a worrisome descent into reactionary politics, a manifestation of what Ye has described as mental illness, a gruesome side effect of extreme wealth, an embrace of true hate. What it does not appear to be is a performance. Instead, it is a new, brutal and detrimental iteration of the sense of grievance that has been Ye’s essential animator since even before he signed a record deal and released his debut album, “The College Dropout,” in 2004.

It is one thing, however, to lash out from feeling excluded — a music industry that isn’t quite ready to accept your gifts, a fashion industry that isn’t sure how to handle an interloper with vision and a sense of entitlement. But Ye is a mogul now, an entrepreneur in the clothing and sneaker business who wields levers of power, influence and authority.

And yet still he lashes out, resulting in the most troubling stretch in his career since the series of events that led to his hospitalization in 2016.

The domino effect began early this month, when Ye and the Black right-wing commentator Candace Owens appeared at Paris Fashion Week wearing T-shirts that read “White Lives Matter.” What he may have been presenting as an offhand gimmick quickly became emblematic — when Ye is questioned or attacked, often he doubles down. (Just a couple of days ago, his associates were giving out the shirts to homeless people in Los Angeles.)

The discourse quickly became unruly, spreading across social media — in one example, Ye began posting texts between him and the Supreme creative director Tremaine Emory, who had formerly worked for him. The exchange was callous and stern, a tug of war between righteous indignation and indignant self-righteousness.

By now, battle lines had been drawn. Ye took refuge in an interview with the Fox News host Tucker Carlson, in which Ye suggested that the “White Lives Matter” shirt was “funny,” and that the Clintons had been attempting to control him through his ex-wife, Kim Kardashian. Later, Motherboard posted unaired leaks from the interview, including one in which Ye posited that “fake children” were planted in his house to improperly influence his children. On Twitter, he lodged a litany of complaints about Jewish people.

Over the weekend, he returned to Drink Champs, the rowdy and usually uproarious podcast hosted by the rapper N.O.R.E., only to re-emphasize his hateful stereotyping. However, egging Ye on, or giving him the space to ramble unchecked, is beginning to have consequences — for others, at least. On Monday, N.O.R.E. apologized for not rejecting Ye’s hate speech in real time, and the episode was removed from the internet.

Later that night, Ye videoconferenced in to Chris Cuomo’s program on NewsNation from the back seat of a vehicle, with no light. The content of the conversation toggled between coherent and worrisome, and the staging felt haphazard and desperate. He was largely unable to meet the camera with a firm gaze. He appeared like a man being conveyed to nowhere.

Perhaps crucially, it gave the image of a man truly untethered — from other people, from loving counsel, from shared social ethics.

“The common understanding,” he told Cuomo, “more oftentimes than not nowadays, is not the truth.”

And yes, sometimes that is the case. But the antisemitic sentiment that Ye has been espousing is gross, and also gross in its casualness — familiar, tiresome tropes that serve only to incite hatred. (On Wednesday, in an interview with Piers Morgan, Ye appeared to apologize for some of his comments. “Hurt people hurt people, and I was hurt,” he said, in a short clip released in advance of the interview’s airing.)

If this run of interviews and social media bursts feels familiar, it’s because there is a certain cyclicity to how Ye has navigated his public life. Early in his career, his loudest complaints were often followed by his most ambitious achievements. But in recent years, the balance between volume of grievance and level of achievement has become destabilized. This recent time period feels like a callback to 2016, when Ye cut his Saint Pablo tour short and was briefly hospitalized; not long after, he publicly embraced Donald Trump and questioned whether slavery was a choice.

In that era, like the current moment, Ye would not, or could not, turn off the faucet. Sometimes it seems that he wants words to mean something other than they do. He has burned through several cycles of trying out ideas in real time only to recalibrate when he found — intentionally, or more likely not — the outer bounds of acceptable discourse. But there is no apparent fail-safe in place now.

Which leaves the responsibility to others. So far, there have been a handful of efforts to hold him to account. After Ye’s tweets, Elon Musk — soon to be the owner of Twitter — tweeted, “Talked to ye today & expressed my concerns about his recent tweet, which I think he took to heart.” The influential radio D.J. Funk Flex called out rappers and industry executives over their silence, suggesting they still hoped to work with Ye down the line. A few celebrities have expressed their exasperation; others, like Diddy, have attempted to intervene directly, only to have Ye target them publicly.

And yet people still tune in, perhaps out of schadenfreude, but also perhaps because Ye is drawing upon a cultural bank account so vast and deep and long-running that he is difficult to disentangle from our modern understanding of celebrity. For years and years, he has stepped out over the line, then crafted work — music, fashion or otherwise — that appeared to justify, or at least partially excuse, his baser impulses. Whether that dynamic can continue is the remaining question. It is also worth considering at what point outrage morphs into concern — if Ye needs help, who would be in a position to provide it to him, and from whom would he accept it?

The media outlets giving him airtime in this moment are riding the border of responsibility and irresponsibility. He has already been suspended from Twitter and Instagram for his incendiary behavior. He has terminated his partnership with Gap. His Adidas partnership is “under review.” Soon, he may have no mainstream partner platforms of any kind to speak of.

Which may explain why he reached an agreement in principle to purchase Parler, the faltering right-wing social media app. (The parent company of Parler is owned by Owens’s husband. Perhaps Ye is, among other things, a recurring victim, witting or otherwise, of right-wing grift.)

For decades now, Ye has been building new worlds and waiting for people to populate them. But even if he does make Parler his megaphone, it’s unclear whether he will simply end up doing anything beyond shouting into the void. Speech may be free, but attention is not.

#Kanye West Is Running Out of Platforms #kanye #mental illness #kanye west #kanye west is ill

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asphaltapostle · 5 months

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For God's Sake, Just Sit Down to Piss

For God’s Sake, Just Sit Down to Piss

Outline

Preface

Not necessarily directed at young men of color. (Or definitely not directed at them, but at white, CIS, straight young men.)

Describing the “real” scope of my authority.

While I have not traveled outside of America whatsoever, I have traveled within it fairly extensively.

My authority is especially strong when it comes to protestant Christianity.

Function of the book.

Chapter 1: “I Don’t Care What You/They Think”

“Apathy’s Misconceptions” “Apathy Misconceived”

You do not actually want to attain a state of true apathy, trust me.

Chris Cuomo exists.

Z-Ro

Apathy is even argued for in the Christian Bible. (The opinion of other people does not matter, only God’s.)

3 Bible Verses for When You Feel Judged By Others | Bible Blog

Galatians 1:10: “Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.”

Chapter 2: “Music Taste Through Generations”

“Boomers' Destructive Generational Tastemaking Disaster”

Quote From the Bandcamp Essay

It’s bewildering how content we are to abruptly abandon the substance music had to our teenage selves out of misconstrued justifications for our classic fainéance – actively choosing to subject our public ambiance to thousands of replays of “the best” records in favor of dipping even the most cowardly toe into unfamiliar waters, even when the opportunity cost is inherently halved – only to then have the audacity to evangelize our dilapidated conceptions of “good music” to our children as we demonize the music of their generation, depriving them of a very essential rite of their cognitive development. I can think of little more reductive, repugnant, reckless, or racist crusades as a model figure than indoctrinating your child with an inherent distaste for their own culture, and nothing more deeply alarming to hear from the mouth of someone born in the 21st century than shit like “Queen was better than any rapper will ever be,” or “real musicianship will die forever with Eric Clapton.” It’s unfair and unnatural: imagine if your high school classmates had consistently turned up their scrunched nose at the living whole of rock & roll, declaring Scott Joplin to be the last musician they could stand.

Consider if the industry-wide customer experience standard for the musical ambiance in 1970s American eating and drinking establishments was entirely comprised of works by John Phillip Souza, and the most prevalent cultural revolution manifested itself something like the following: In countless popular films set in the time (and the stories told today by your parents of their youths that informs them,) a group of popular high school boys – generally three longtime childhood friends and a single addition from the previous summer with an Army Dad and a moderate bad boy aura that’s made him one of the school’s notoriously attractive students and the somewhat-abusive leader in the pack. After spending some time trying to convince the other three (the crucial moment for his case being the bad kid’s rare moment of sincerity trope) of its guaranteed social, sexual and financial ROI, they seal their agreement to start a band with a four-way saliva slap. Imagine if in the progression of this exhausted old tale, it remained entirely classic (and boring) when it faded to a “THREE MONTHS LATER…” ceiling shot of the four the in full, gleaming, performance-spec get-up of the presidential marching band in their garage, and it was revealed that they’d they practiced “The Star Spangled Banner” every night just to make the girls swoon in the film’s resolution with an encore of “America the Beautiful” at an unsanctioned (and very patriotic!) house party. Would you have made out on your first date with someone in your 80s high school Chemistry class after they’d was about but suffice it to say that it’s absolutely fucking bonkers how often I encounter “Sweet Home Alabama” (and other tunes I’ve already heard hundreds of times throughout the first third of my existence, conservatively) dripping down from the overhead speakers in all manner of big retail stores, where it’s inappropriate and unwelcome. Even from the generous assumption that every single one of them is an objective masterwork of composition, the amount of affection the American music listening audience has for the same 500 singles is on par with our rampant gun violence in terms of our unanimous tolerance for ridiculously illogical habits. I’ve been sitting in a cute, moderately trendy coffee shop on the corner of the major avenue of access to my cute, moderately trendy Portland neighborhood for an hour now, and I’ve recognized every single one of the tracks played just a bit too loudly on the stereo. I’ve been sick of them all since Middle School. That one Bow Bow Chicka Chicka thing… How very charming. “The 70s, the 80s… the one-hit wonder channel!”

Contrary to the popular hipster narrative we’ve just defeated, it’s not the popularity of the lineup that makes these experiences so distasteful, but their regularity. It doesn’t take a doctor of psychology to observe that tireless exposure to any given work of art inevitably erodes its value, yet we continue to expend resources saturating most mundane spaces in our society with an unyielding regurgitation of the same brackish pop culture symbols as if we’re trying to either induce a canonical vomit, intentionally obliterate the Yelp! reviews for a distant future museum’s “North America Enters the 21st Century” exhibit, or both.

This issue is not unique to American society nor to men, really, but is entirely the sickness of white boomers and gen Xers. It is an anomaly that has genuinely and profoundly perturbed me for virtually the entirety of my existence as a culturally literate entity - certainly longer than any of the other disturbances addressed in this volume.

The process of jazz becoming mainstream (which I think it had definitely by the 1940s.)

“Boomers' Destructive Generational Tastemaking Disaster”

Catcalling

Clothes

Stuff we should keep to ourselves

Credits

“I’m laughing at you and the best part is you won’t truly understand why, in any deep and meaningful way, for another 20 years.” - JustSomeGuy on Mastodon

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youreacowgirllikeme · 3 years

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Workout

note: alright, I just had to get the excitement about the #letsgetafterfit video out of my system. This is nothing but filth, I am so sorry

words: 1.3 k

warnings: rough smut, brief mentions of spanking, choking, slight exhibitionism

sorry for typos, enjoy

“That’s the right angle, perfect.” Chris said, adjusting the phone in your hands.

“Now just keep it like that and try to avoid moving to much or you’ll mess up the video.”

Your boyfriend had asked you to record him doing a workout tutorial in the back yard and as a supportive girlfriend, you had agreed. It was purely selfish, of course. You loved seeing Chris working out, seeing his physical strength reminded you of how easily he could manhandle you, something that turned you on to no ends.

“Chris, I know how to film something with a phone, I’m not stupid.” you replied, sticking out your tongue at him. “Now start your little workout session before it’s getting dark.”

“Don’t be cheeky, baby.”

+++

Saying you had difficulties holding still was an understatement.

“So, this is one is called the GOT” Chris explained, going down into a squatting position. His attention was on the camera, yours on the way the muscles of his legs tensed up with each movement.

Fuck, he looked so hot. He wore a shirt that stretched tightly over his pecs and arms, and if he moved in a certain way, you could swear that you saw the outline of his cock trough his loose sweat pants.

Chris’ deep groan as he did a particular straining exercise made a flash of heat shoot between your legs and you had to hold yourself back from jumping him right there.

Every passing minute made it more difficult for you to focus on your task of recording the whole workout. Soon, your single remaining thought was how to get Chris to rail you as quickly as possible. Seeing him all sweaty, his voice breathy and strained from exertion made you think of all the ways he could ruin you. You clenched your thighs together in an effort to get some friction on your aching pussy.

Chris raised his hand to signal you to stop recording.

"Why are you fidgeting like that, babe?” he asked, sounding a tad annoyed. “I want to upload this and the quality will be horrible if you don’t stop.” He looked at you with a frown. But when he saw the way you were biting your lip, basically undressing him with your eyes, realization flashed over his face.

“Behave.” he said in a low voice. “Be a good girl now and I will make it worth your while later.”

“Ok, fine.” You muttered in response, pouting a bit. Secretly, you enjoyed how he was calling you out in that authorative tone. Maybe you should try pushing him a little bit more, just to see what would happen.

Pausing the recording again, you looked at Chris, who immediately stopped the exercise he was doing.

“What’s up now, why did you pause?”

“Nothing, I’m just thinking about how bad I want you to fuck me.” You said bluntly, your voice filled with feigned innocence.

Chris eyes darkened and he took a step in your direction.

“Careful, baby.” He growled. “Didn’t I tell you to behave and wait? Loose that attitude, I don’t want to repeat myself.”

“You’re so right, we really need to continue filming now, I hope this” you pointed to the prominent bulge beginning to form in his sweat pants with a smug grin “is not bothering you too much while you get after fit or whatever.”

Hearing that was what made Chris snap. He threw the huge weight he had been working with on the ground and was onto you in two large strides. He took your face into his huge hand, his grasp on your jaw almost painfully tight. Your phone just fell to the ground as your body went limp under his touch.

“What do you wanna achieve, huh?” he snarled “You wanted to rile me up by acting like a little brat? Well, congrats, you did it, baby.”

Without warning , he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder as if you weighted nothing.

You tried to wiggle out of his iron-like grip, but not a chance. He just gave a sharp smack to your ass, and your squeal rang through the whole garden.

Chris carried you all the way to one of the huge deck chairs on the and unceremoniously dropped you onto it. His strong hands gripped the hem of your short yoga pants and just pulled them down your legs before you could even try to stop him.

“Chris.” You cried out, trying to clench your legs together. “What are you doing?”

But Chris was not having it, he grabbed your thighs and spread them, exposing your naked core to the chilly outdoor air.

“Isn’t that what you wanted the whole time?” he said with a cruel grin playing on his face, pressing his fingers to your naked core. “You didn’t even wear panties, baby, and your already dripping for me.”

A blush, part mortification, part arousal, crept over your face and you let out a needy whimper at the feeling of Chris’ fingers parting your wet folds, sliding into you with ease.

“That’s what you wanted, my fingers in your pussy, Y/N?” he asked smugly, crooking his digits inside you so you could only reply with a gasp.

“I’d like your dick better.” You moaned and gave the bulge inside Chris sweatpants a hard squeeze.

Chris swore under his breath, retreating his fingers to pull down his pants and underwear. His cock was heavy and hard, and you reached out, wanting to wrap your hand around it.

“Oh no, hands and knees.” Chris said sharply, delivering another smack to your naked ass. You quickly complied, and a second later, his hands grabbed your hips and the tip of his hard cock nudged at your entrance before he filled you with one hard thrust. He wasted no time and started slamming into you relentlessly, making you cry out.

“You fucking asked for this, baby.” He grunted, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Chris, slow down please. I can’t stay quiet, the neighbors might hear us.” You whined, your voice breaking every time Chris hit that perfect spot inside you.

“You should’ve thought about that before you acted like a fucking brat. You want attention and now you got it.” Chris growled, and reached out to wrap his huge hand around your throat. “Maybe this will help you to tone it down.”

The feeling of his grasp on your neck, combined with his hard thrusts, made your arousal skyrocket and your stained cries came out louder and louder. All worries about being heard were erased from your brain, the only thought left was Chris fucking you.

“Come on, Y/N.” Chris snarled. “Come on my cock like a good girl.” He deepened his strokes even more, slamming into you so hard you almost toppled off the deck chair.

His deep voice saying your name was everything you needed to reach your peak. Your orgasm was so powerful that your legs started shaking and you were thrashing against the forceful grasp Chris had on your hips.

“Shit, baby, you’re so tight. So fucking perfect.” Chris hissed through clenched teeth, and with one last deep thrust, he spilled his load inside of you.

As soon as Chris’ grip on you loosened, you almost fell forward, your limbs were giving out under you in the aftermath of your climax. But his strong arms wrapped around your mid and pulled you back against his chest.

“You’re happy now?” he murmured, kissing your neck affectionately. You nuzzled against him, totally satisfied.

“I am, but I’m also cold.” You chuckled. “Can we do the rest of the video inside?”

“Anything you want, baby.”

#chris cuomo #chris cuomo imagine #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #cnn #cnn anchors #let’s get after fit #fanfiction

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s3nsit1ve · 3 years

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The Other Chris

pairing: Chris Evans x black reader, all may read, no warnings

Summary: Reader thinks Chris Cuomo is sexy (she is right) lol

• You come to a slow stop at the red light, taking a moment to turn up the heater in the car. It was getting dangerously close to the winter season and Boston was not the best area for warm-blooded girls like you.

• You were driving home from your friend’s apartment, where you had been for the better part of the day, helping her brainstorm ideas for a new work project. You were anxious to get home so you can spend the rest of this gloomy day at home with Chris and Dodger.

• Arriving to your very secluded and gated neighborhood, you fumble about the cup holders of the car, searching for the garage remote while occasionally looking up to adjust the steering wheel.

• You park your car in the spacious garage and take a moment to breathe in the fresh autumn air before closing the garage door and entering your house.

• Standing in front of the T.V. with one hand in his pocket and the other holding there remote was Chris, absentmindedly perusing the channels.

• Dodger’s paws scramble against the wooden tile—rushing to greet you and shower you with affection. You give the pup a few kisses, letting him know how much you’ve missed him during your absence.

• Chris sets the remote down on the glass coffee table once the CNN logo appears on the corner of the screen. Election week has everyone on edge and eager to keep up with every bit of breaking news

• He walks to you to give you a kiss as you’re setting down your purse and removing your jacket.

• You make a quick run to your shared bedroom to change into a sweater and a pair of leggings, and throw your hair into a bun. This was usually the time when you would moisturize your hair for the night, but you had already gone through that routine when you were doing your braid out.

• You two weren’t on the couch under a blanket this early, but the November weather had you making adjustments. Dodger was laying to the left of Chris while you were on his right.

• The current program was Cuomo Prime Time, where news anchor Chris Cuomo was covering the election updates.

• A few minutes go on, and Chris was fully invested into the program. Cuomo was going on, explaining which candidate took the lead in which states, and you were just listening--hearing the man talk, letting your imagination run wild. Cuomo was quite a man.

• “Whew, I’m sorry, but it has to be said. Chris Cuomo is a fine man,” you break the silence.

• Mid sentence Chris turns to you with an unfamiliar look on his face. It was somewhere between shocked and offended. You couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh.

• “Are you serious? Chris Cuomo?” You knew Chris and Chris had a an amiable relationship, so he was surprised to hear you fawn over his friend.

• “Yeah, him. Did I lie?”

• He maintained the absolutely appalled look on his face though you could tell he was trying not to break into a fit of laughter.

• “Well, I can’t agree nor disagree with you on that,” he scoffed and turned his attention back to the program.

• “What, you can’t admit that man is subjectively attractive? Come on, I mean, look at him! It’s just something about his face and his voice that makes me wanna just--mmhm,” you suck in your breath and chew on your lips a little while keeping your eyes on the screen.

• “Oh, no, no, you are out of line, young lady”

• “What? Am I only allowed to think one white Italian named Chris is fine?”

• “Precisely.”

• You two share a laugh, but it’s cut short when you feel his hands glide down your back and give your ass a firm squeeze. He brings his hands back to your back and pulls you closer.

• He pushes his tongue down and explores every inch of your mouth, pulling back while biting on your lips

• “I think we need to reestablish some rules over here, don’t we?”

—

a/n: Chris Cuomo is so fine yo. It’s really something about big ol white Italians named Chris. Need me one of that 😔☝🏾can we officially replace Cuomo with Pratt on the list of superior Chrises?

um asks are open

#chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fic #captain america #black writers #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagines #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black! reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x woc

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nightcoremoon · 3 years

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i want to see a biopic about trent reznor from rick rubin's perspective about how exactly we went from nine inch nails writing hurt to rick showing johnny cash the song and producing his cover, and there be dozens of cameos from jay z and run dmc and ad-rock and mike D and LL cool J and eminem and chuck d and kanye and sir mixalot and fred durst and lil jon and serj tankian and kerry king and mike shinoda and adele and john frusciante and corey taylor (even though he hates rick but he doesn't hate trent or at least I don't think he does???) and glenn danzig and the dixie chicks and joan jett and tom petty (edit- fuck I forgot he was dead T.T ) and tom morello and rivers cuomo and shakira and justin timberlake and metallica and lizzy grant and billy corgan and carlos santana and... sigh... imagine dragons since apparently rick's producing their fifth one. great, more imagine dragons music. just great.

anyway it would be titled I Hurt Myself Today and would be obvious oscar bait and reznor would win academy awards for scoring it and the soundtrack would make a bajillion dollars because it'd basically be judgment night part 2 what with all the rap and metal

only thing tripping it up is casting. I mean we could have joaquin phoenix play him again, he's very clearly got the chops for acting give his decades of amazing performances but cash was getting on in years by the end so it'd have to be someone older... I mean fuck bill murray but the man has range, and I can see it now, plus the obvious oscar bait would need a big name actor like that headlining it. adrien brody could probably do rick if he had a fake beard, or maybe daniel radcliffe or liev schrieber. paul rudd maybe but if I see paul rudd with rick rubin's beard I'll just see paul rudd in a fake beard. thought occurred to me patton oswalt would be a great pick because I just suddenly remembered him as dr demento in weird al's fake film trailer of the movie where aaron paul played him (another movie I actually want to waych) but I didn't remember if he was jewish or not (since we can't have a goy play a jewish man because antisemitic whitewashing). and I mean dan avidan is the right age but he's just musician famous and not quite actor famous and he couldn't be a cameo unless rick rubin produced the next ninjasexparty album.

but then who the fuck would play trent reznor?

chris evans? jake gyllenhall? james mcavoy? there's not many actors who can successfully look dark and brooding in their mid-30s and I don't even know who can or can't sing!

...unless he played himself.

although he's scoring it so he can't also be an actor because then it would look like a vanity project and lose oscar points.

idk I just want that movie to exist especially since more people need to know who rick rubin is beyond "the guy jay-z talks to at the end of 99 problems" or the grandfather of nu metal.

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harryfeatgaga · 3 years

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Imagine not finding chris cuomo attractive 🥱🥱🥱 vats embarassin luv💅🏼

KDFNHBYUEFHG TEAAAAAA

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go-redgirl · 3 years

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FNC’s Carlson: What Was It About Joe Biden’s Shaky Monotone That Inspired CNN’s Talking Heads?

Friday, FNC’s Tucker Carlson reacted to President Joe Biden’s address to the nation a night earlier, which according to Carlson left much to be desired.

After comparing Biden’s address to former Soviet Union dictator Leonid Brezhnev, the Fox News host questioned the fawning approval from CNN hosts and talking heads.

Transcript as follows:

CARLSON: Tons going on, as always. So, there are a lot of stories we could have opened with tonight and we talked about it. But in the end, we couldn’t get our minds off of Joe Biden’s COVID speech.

Did you see that last night? The one where he seems so sad about the lockdowns that have crushed businesses and kept kids out of school, an entire generation, he said, had driven so many to suicide, yet never once mentioned or even hinted that he and his party were the very forces behind those lockdowns.

I’m really sorry about your black eye, he says, as he punches you in the face.

It was bizarre. The whole speech was like that. It had a hallucinogenic quality like it wasn’t quite real.

But then Joe Biden himself isn’t quite real. Maybe that’s the reason he talks that way. Biden has been living in utter seclusion for more than a year. He hasn’t spoken to anyone but his own lackeys.

He hasn’t driven a car or sat on the grass and looked up at the sky or been anywhere or done anything except in the most controlled possible environment. What an incredibly weird life that is.

Joe Biden must imagine that everyone in America is as terrified of corona as he is and is living in the same kind of bunker. Joe Biden is totally cut off.

Alex Berenson described last night speech as late Soviet. The more we thought about it, the more perfect that seemed.

Here’s a clip of Russia’s own Joe Biden, the late Leonid Brezhnev. Like Biden, Brezhnev was very clearly fading in his later years after a series of health problems. Also, like Biden despite his frailty and confusion, Brezhnev never lost his enthusiasm for pointless wars.

He is the one who ordered the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. In late December of that year, Brezhnev addressed the Soviet youth in a televised speech. As you watch this, see if you can spot the similarities to what you saw last night, and keep in mind when this was shot, Brezhnev was a full five years younger than Joe Biden is today.

[VIDEO CLIP PLAYS]

CARLSON: Now, they are trying to tell him how the teleprompter works. He harrumphs a bit and looks vacant, he doesn’t quite get it.

Brezhnev didn’t actually lead Russia by this point, and you can see why. He remained the country’s figurehead, but it was the ideologues behind the scenes who ran the show.

Brezhnev had his own Susan Rice and Barack Obama to make the real decisions. The similarities, as we said, are pretty amazing.

Over at CNN, however, they didn’t see it, or maybe they did see it and they didn’t care. CNN always did love Brezhnev.

In any case, the usual chorus of toadies strained for a high note last night. Watch them tell you how wonderful the speech was, as if you didn’t have a TV and didn’t see it for yourself.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

DON LEMON, CNN ANCHOR: How refreshing. How human. How compassionate. How American.

CHRIS CUOMO, CNN ANCHOR: Biden tried to lift our spirits with a medicinal message about recovering our sense of collective cause. Certainly, it was healing.

VAN JONES, CNN POLITICAL COMMENTATOR: He didn’t say, you need me. He said, I need you. I need you. I mean, my God that is — isn’t that it?

UNIDENTIFIED FEMALE: People always talk about the feeling of the relief hey have hearing Biden, but what he’s doing now soars above that.

LEMON: What the President is saying his help is on the way. We’re all in this together. I need your help. We’re all Americans. Whoo. Hallelujah.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Hallelujah, says Don Lemon. Can I get an amen? Clear the aisles. It’s time for an altar call. Brother Biden is preaching the word. Preach, Brother Biden, preach. Speak. What are these people talking about?

What was it about Joe Biden’s shaky monotone last night that inspired them exactly? Most people found it depressing. Maybe we’re being too literal here.

It probably doesn’t matter what Joe Biden actually said. He could have called for the bombing of Toronto and CNN’s panel of trained seals would still enthusiastically applaud it. It’s their job to enthusiastically applaud what Joe Biden says.

Our job is to try and figure out what Biden’s speech meant for the country. So let’s look at it for a minute.

The lockdowns have been tough, Biden conceded at the outset, God knows how we got them, but we did. Those restrictions will be lifted as soon as we can lift them, and we will return to some version of the country now only dimly remember, we’d really love to do that. We mean it, we’d love it.

But in order to go forward and take the boot off your neck, we’re going to need every American to listen very carefully and to obey our orders. Do what we tell you to do.

Now, that won’t be easy. But if you do it, there is a payoff for good behavior. If you’re obedient, there’s a chance not a guarantee, of course, but a distinct possibility, God-willing, that you may be able to see some of the people you love around July 4th, that could actually happen, ladies and gentlemen. Listen to this.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: If we do our part, if we do this together, by July the Fourth, there’s a good chance you, your families and friends will be able to get together in your backyard or in your neighborhood and have a cookout and a barbecue and celebrate Independence Day.

That doesn’t mean large events with lots of people together, but it does mean small groups will be able to get together.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Did you hear that America, there is a good chance, again, not a sure thing. But what is a sure thing these days? But a good chance that you might be allowed to have a modest cookout four months from now. That is as long as you obey regulations weather permitting, and assuming that current Federal projections unfold according to plan. That’s your prize.

This offer by the way does not apply to full-time employees, the radio station or their families.

But with luck, this could be your reward after a year and a half of lockdowns, a Fourth of July cookout in your very own backyard assuming you have one.

Don’t ever tell us that Joe Biden isn’t a compassionate generous man. Here he is offering you with some medically necessary caveats outlined by Dr. Anthony Fauci, the right to cook your own hotdogs. With the provision, obviously, that you do it in a small masked group seated far apart at a prescribed distance from one another.

Don’t get crazy and hug or celebrate or talk too loud or anything like that. Moderation is the key here. But still a socially distanced barbecue. What other wonders does President Biden have in store for us?

Well, you’re going to have to get vaccinated to find out. Sorry, that’s the other requirement. I should have mentioned it. Everybody needs the shot. Period. That’s what Biden said. And that’s a lot of shots.

The good news: now that we’re on what Joe Biden describes as a, quote, “war footing” with this virus, vaccinating people against it is a counterterrorism operation.

What we did to ISIS, we’re going to do to COVID. Biden didn’t mention drones, but we will need soldiers and that’s why Joe Biden is building a Vaccination Corps that will include active-duty members of the military, an army of vaccinators. Watch.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: Two months ago, the country — this country didn’t have nearly enough vaccine supply to vaccinate all or ever near all of the American public. But soon we will.

Now because of all the work we’ve done, we’ll have enough vaccine supply for all adults in America by the end of May. That’s months ahead of schedule. And we’re mobilizing thousands of vaccinators to put the vaccine in one’s arm.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Thousands of vaccinators to vaccinate everyone. That sounds amazing, but it does raise at least one vexing question: what if you don’t want to get vaccinated? Not everyone does. Some people have religious objections, other have concerns about this specific medicines. Others simply don’t want it.

Do you need a reason to turn down the vaccine? And what happens if you do turn it down? Will we be allowed to fly on airplanes? Or go to work? Or enter the front doors of Madison Square Garden?

Joe Biden didn’t specify, but it’s pretty hard to believe he would support any kind of vaccine coercion as he has told you so often over so many years, if it’s your body, it’s your choice.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: I support a woman’s right to choose under that constitutional guarantee provision. And quite frankly, I always will.

Folks, you know, and I am going to fight to protect a woman’s right to make her own personal decisions when it gets to your healthcare.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: Quite frankly, you’ve got the absolute right to make your own personal decisions about your own personal healthcare. Period. That’s in the Constitution. Joe Biden would never violate that, right. He’s been defending that right since before you were born.

It’s your body. It’s your choice. Period.

Of course, as with everything, there are caveats. If you don’t take the shot that Joe Biden wants you to take, if you persist in making your own personal healthcare, then Joe Biden is going to have to shut the country down again, no socially distanced barbecues for you, buddy. You’re going to have to eat your hotdogs alone inside.

(BEGIN VIDEO CLIP)

BIDEN: If we don’t stay vigilant, and the conditions change, and we may have to reinstate restrictions to get back on track.

(END VIDEO CLIP)

CARLSON: To which CNN might say, “Hallelujah,” but we’re not CNN. Instead, we’re left wondering, could there be any civil liberties implications to any of this? We don’t know the answer.

READ MORE STORIES ABOUT:

Clips Media Politics CNN Fox News Channel Joe Biden Tucker Carlson Tucker Carlson

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dream-realm · 4 years

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i absolutley have no evidence in favor of this or anything lol, but is really beyond the realm of belief to imagine that theyre lying about chris cuomo having covid ? that would be so crazy if they ever found out something like that

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arcticdementor · 5 years

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What has prompted our immigration crisis? Isn’t it the same sentiment that leads Democrats (and David French, but I repeat myself) to claim Ilhan Omar is a better American than anyone born here?

…

The problem, I think, is that French has been swept along by the same floodtide of degeneracy that produces mobs of enraged anarchists on the streets of Portland and makes college campuses unsafe even for well-meaning liberals like Bret Weinstein. The election of Trump, and the rising populist sentiment that elected him, caught our elite by surprise. They were shocked to discover that a powerful plurality of Americans — nearly 63 million voted for Trump — had never accepted the notions of “progress” that prevail among the university-educated elite and in the urban communities where the elite reside. Among the core tenets of this elite weltanschauung is a belief in the superiority of immigrants. You might notice the way they quote Emma Lazarus’s poetry as if it had more authority than the Constitution, a reverence for the “huddled masses” being essential to what amounts to a religious faith among our otherwise godless elite. When I visited the campus of Harvard with Pete Da Tech Guy in the fall of 2017, we were immediately confronted on our arrival with a protest on behalf of so-called “dreamers.” Harvard students are not nowadays notable for their dedication to moral virtue — they get drunk and screw around quite shamelessly — but they are adamantly certain that it is morally wrong to deport illegal aliens. Many years ago, Peter Brimelow pointed out that a major problem with U.S. immigration policy is that voters have seldom gotten a chance to express their preference at the ballot box. The elite of both parties seem generally agreed in preferring immigrants to native-born Americans, the Republicans beholden to corporate interests that want cheap labor and the Democrats seeing immigrants as future Democrat voters. Public opinion surveys indicate that most Americans see the issue of immigration as a matter of numbers. A majority would approve of accepting 250,000 new immigrants annually, and even if you bumped that number up to half a million, most people would be OK with it, but what we have had for the past 20 years is an unofficial policy of almost unlimited immigration. Our immigration laws are riddled with loopholes, and enforcement has been uneven and irregular, so that the combination of legal and illegal immigrants has amounted to more than 1 million every year since the mid-1990s. A majority of Americans oppose this, but prior to 2016, they never had a real chance to express their dissatisfaction at the ballot box. They had previously been offered no clear choice; choosing between open-borders Democrats and open-borders Republicans was no choice at all, as far as immigration policy was concerned, and some Republicans (including my late Cousin John) were worse than any Democrat on the issue. Trump’s blunt talk — “Build a wall!” — appealed to voters who had long been frustrated by the refusal of the political elite to address their concerns over our immigration policy (or non-policy, to be more accurate). The potency of that populist resentment startled not only the political class, but also the journalists and pundits who had acted as publicity agents for the elite’s open-borders consensus.

…

“Trump’s going to get re-elected, isn’t he?” people keep asking Thomas Friedman, and if his liberal friends are saying this to him, what does that suggest about the success of Trump’s methods?

That success only inspires the Trump-haters to louder shrieks of indignation, because to them it is wrong for him to keep winning this way. And yet it is not really the president they hate so much as the people who elected him. What David French and the other #NeverTrump Republicans don’t want to confront — what they cannot admit, not even to themselves — is that Trump’s success is a repudiation of their own weakness, a condemnation of their abject failure. The crowd of intellectuals at National Review and the now-defunct Weekly Standard considered themselves possessors of an authority that entitled them to prescribe policy and to anoint candidates for the Republican Party. Exercising this leadership prerogative, as an elite class as secure in its authority as any feudal aristocracy, our conservative intellectuals were always eager to claim credit when Republicans won elections, but when Republicans lost, they insisted that this was never their fault. Probably their zenith of prestige was in 2005, after Bush had been re-elected, which gave credence to Karl Rove’s talk of a “permanent Republican majority” based on a so-called “center-right” coalition. That hope quickly evaporated, with military disaster in Iraq followed by Democrats recapturing Congress in 2006 and then on to the economic catastrophe of 2008 followed by the election of Barack Hussein Obama.

…

Four years ago, Vox Day observed that French and the #NeverTrump conservatives “haven’t grasped the fact that the demographic changes to the United States have not only changed the way the political game is played, but have changed the game itself.” The country that elected and re-elected Ronald Reagan by landslide margins has ceased to exist, replaced by one in which Republicans can win the White House only by razor-thin margins, and the most important reason for this change is immigration. The demographic changes that have so transformed our politics did not “just happen.” It wasn’t some impersonal trend which caused this, but rather it was a matter of policy, and National Review was on the side of open borders, having purged Alien Nation author Peter Brimelow and sidelined John O’Sullivan. Not only did National Review purge those who dissented from their open-borders agenda, but also treated as persona non grata anyone who lamented this purge. They will call you a racist if you don’t support open-borders Republicans whose policies make it impossible for Republicans to win elections. Why do the editors of National Review think we should be grateful for their services in denouncing Republican voters as racist, as if there is a shortage of Democrats willing to perform this service?

Americans have grown tired of being lectured about how racist they are. The white people delivering these lectures — e.g., Joe Scarborough, Chris Cuomo, David Brooks — seem to believe that their moral superiority to the rest of us is so self-evident that we will enjoy and be grateful for the opportunity to be “enlightened” by them. Yet they are telling us nothing we haven’t already been told a million times, long before anyone imagined Donald Trump running for president.

…

The authors of our Constitution explained that their purpose was to “secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our posterity.” If we are the posterity of our nation’s Founders — if we would deserve to be known as their heirs — then we have inherited an obligation to ensure that “the blessings of liberty” are preserved intact, that they may be enjoyed by future generations of Americans. So-called “Justice Democrats” like Ilhan Omar are a threat to that heritage of liberty, and yet David French, who wishes us to believe he is a conservative, seems to think that it is “racist” to oppose them. I do not exercise any control over what President Trump puts on his Twitter feed nor do Trump supporters seek my advice on what they should chant at rallies, but I know that Donald Trump prevented Hillary Clinton from becoming president, and that his willingness to call out Omar and her “Squad” (and to be smeared as a racist for doing so) indicates a keen understanding of what it will take to prevent Democrats from taking back the White House in 2020.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe there is something to be gained by playing “Nice Guy” with the Democrats, but if being nice were the criterion of political success, Jeb Bush might be president. And he’s not.

Get over it.

#robert stacy mccain

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meret118 · 5 years

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#u.s news

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youreacowgirllikeme · 3 years

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Competition

note: I just felt like writing some angry, jealous Chris...enjoy :)

words: 2.5k

warnings: swearing, alcohol, unprotected sex

"I am Chris Cuomo, live from New York with my collegue Y/N Y/L/N, keeping you updated on this 2020 presidential election all through the night.”

The camera switched to you as you greeted the viewers before handing it over to Phil on the magic wall, right in time so the giant yawn you had to let out wasn’t caught live.

"Pull yourself together, Y/L/N.“ Chris whispered across the anchor desk and discreetly slid a cup of coffee your way.

You rolled your eyes at him, that was easier said than done. It was the second night of the election coverage and you ran on nothing but naps and caffeine for two days now. You spent all your time off air preparing your nightly coverage, doing panels for the day shift, keeping track with the incoming numbers and doing calculations. It was exhausting, and you had no idea how Chris managed to not only be wide awake, but also look impeccable doing so.

It was the first major event the two of you had covered as co-anchors, you had never worked with him before and maybe that was for the better. Because while he was a brilliant journalist and you had already learned a lot from him, he also was a huge pain in the ass, and the fact that he teased you all the time was only made worse by the surge of heat that went through you every time he stared at you with those damn blue eyes.

Yes, you had a slight crush on him, but you blamed it entirely on sleep deprivation and would never even dream about acting on it. You had this big event to cover, and that’s where all you focus was, or at least should be.

The camera swayed back to you right in time for you to announce a key race alert, calling the next state for Biden. A good way to start the night.

+++

"And that’s it from us in New York, I’m Chris Cuomo and I’m now handing over to my colleagues in Washington, our live coverage on CNN continues after a short break. Thanks for spending your night with us.”

“Fuck me.“ you murmured, slumping your head down into the anchor desk as soon as the cameras were off.

You were absolutely bone tired, and you only had about a 10 hour break before preparations for the next night started, because there was no chance the race was going to be called in the next hours.

“Y/N?” one of the producers called your way. “Washington asks if they can have you up for a panel discussion at 10, and maybe another one in the afternoon?”

You groaned and just gave a thumbs up, it wasn’t like you had planned on going home anyways.

Deciding to squeeze in a nap in your office, you got up from your chair to at least get a couple hours of sleep. You walked through the hallways like a zombie, and didn’t pay any attention to where you were going until you ran right into a huge body, colliding with the persons chest with a huff.

“Come on, Y/L/N, too tired to keep your eyes open?” Someone chuckled, and you groaned internally. Cuomo was one of the last people you wanted to see now.

“Sorry, We can’t all be super humans who don’t need sleep.” You muttered, and tried to keep walking, but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“You’re staying here until tonight?” Chris asked, and you just nodded tiredly in response.

"Join me in my office for a drink then?” He asked, and your eyebrows shot up.

“You keep alcohol here, Cuomo?”

“Of course.” He chuckled. “Emergency use only, but the craziness of those past hours calls for it, and you really look like you could use one.”

He was right, a drink sounded like heaven, and you were way too tired to be rational right now.

+++

“Shit, this is good.” You sighted, taking another sip of the scotch Chris had poured you, your head slumping back on the backrest of his comfortable leather couch.

Chris had already downed his drink and was now watching you from an armchair across from you.

“You need to toughen up.”he suddenly said.

“You’re doing a good job, you’re driven and intelligent. But you let stuff get to you too quickly. You need to stay focused 24/7, even under pressure like tonight, or the job will break you at some point.”

You blushed furiously, what he said hadn’t sounded mean or condescending at all, but you still got defensive.

“I didn’t have one single slip those past two days, cut me some slack, Cuomo, were all tired.” you snapped.

Chris face stayed as calm as his voice.

“I’m tired, yes, but you don’t see me yawning in front of the camera. You looked cute, don’t get me wrong, but I doubt the bosses will see it the same way.” He chuckled, and you couldn’t believe your ears.

“I am not cute, I’m an anchor just as you are.” You hissed, your fists clenched in your lap. You got up from his couch. “I’m leaving now, I don’t need your condescending shit.”

Before you even reached the door, Chris had already caught your arm, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you back.

“Hey, no need to be cross, I was joking.”

He took a step closer to you, and you got a whiff of his aftershave mixed with the whiskey he just had. He smelled like heaven, and looked so stupidly good, even in his wrinkled dress shirt and with circles under his eyes, you hated him a bit for it.

You took a step back, hitting the office door behind you. Chris was so close now, watching you with dark eyes and a curious expression on his face.

“Well it wasn’t funny.“ you whispered, unable to come up with a better response. Your brain was fuzzy with alcohol and sleep deprivation, and couldn’t handle the situation.

"Or maybe you just need to loosen up a bit.“ Chris grinned, cocking his head to the side.

Looking back, you weren’t sure what made you do what you did next, maybe it was the whisky, or the lack of proper sleep, or both, but grabbed the fabric of Chris dress shirt and yanked him down, crashing your mouth onto his.

He appeared suprised and didn’t move for a second, but then his hands grabbed your arms and pressed you back against the door. He deepened the kiss, but just as you tried to reach out to bury your hand in his hair, he suddenly took a huge step back.

"You need to leave.“ he pressed out, even if his body language clearly said the opposite.

"What’s gotten into you?“ you asked, confused and slightly irritated.

“There’s no way in hell we’re doing this. Not here, not now, not ever.”

“But you just-“

“Look, I’m m sorry if I sent you the wrong signal, but we can’t do this. I know, we’re both tired and we had a drink and everything. But we’re working together. This isn’t right.” He let out a deep breath, before his face hardened. “I really think it would be best if you leave now. I’ll see you later, once we’re back on air.”

You felt absolutely mortified, you had been convinced that Chris had wanted the same thing, had you really been reading him so wrong?

You didn’t want to be in that situation any longer, already feeling the embarrassing sting of rejection manifesting itself with a giant flush creeping onto your face.

So you did the only thing you could come up with, you ran, locking yourself in your office and dreading facing Chris again.

+++

The joy and relief over the Biden victory had erased most of the exhaustion and pent up frustration you and the whole CNN team had felt during that election week. The guy who hated your network and the way each of you did their job was finally out of the White House, and that was a definitely reason to celebrate.

You were currently all gathered in the main office space where the bosses had thrown together a party, their way of appreciating your hard work during election week. There was music, amazing food and, much to your delight, an open bar.

It would’ve been a great evening if it wasn’t for the almost unbearable tension still hanging in the air between you and Chris. Looking back, you had no idea how you had managed to keep it so professional during the coverage following your encounter in his office.

Of course, being serious journalists, you didn’t let it show that there was any animosity between the two of you, but as soon as the cameras were off, Chris either completely ignored you or fled the room as fast as he could.

You tried not to take it personally, but it still hurt, and even talking to him on air without showing that was incredibly difficult for you.

Now, you hadn’t spoken to him at all in the three days since the election was over, and you had finally decided that he wasn’t worth the many thoughts you had spent on him.

You wanted to have some fun tonight, have a chat and some drinks with your colleagues and not think about Chris Cuomo.

Which was pretty hard, considering that his huge frame was almost impossible to miss in the crowd, and you had felt his eyes on you more than once.

But you stood your ground, trying your best to appear unimpressed as you joked around with some blokes from the production team. One of them, a guy called Jim, seemed a bit into you, and you decided some harmless flirting wouldn’t hurt. The last days had been physically and emotionally exhausting, so some light banter was just what you needed.

You were in the midsts of laughing about a story Jim had just told, when your eyes caught Chris staring at you from across the room. And for some reason, he looked really mad.

You just raised your eyebrows at him and turned your attention back to your colleague. But you were only listening with half an ear, your thoughts were circling around Chris again.

What was the matter with him? It was when Jim put his hand on your arm and you saw Chris throwing another murderous stare your way that you realized what was happening.

Time for some fun, you thought, and leaned closer to your admirer to whisper into his ear.

“Would you be a dear and get us some more drinks?“

You laughed theatrically when he agreed, just for the effect, hoping Chris would see it. But when you looked up, he was nowhere to be found.

Jim was making his way to the bar now, so you decided to use the restroom real quick. You were just walking through the hallway, when suddenly, someone roughly grabbed your arm from behind you.

“You’re coming with me.” Chris growled and dragged you into the closest room, which did just happen to be his office.

As soon as the door slammed behind you, he had backed you up against it, his huge frame towering over you.

“Cuomo, what the fuck are you doing?” You spat, trying to get away, but his arms were on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. Your heart was beating like crazy, a sign of your treacherous body reacting to Chris’ closeness.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” Chris growled, “You like playing games with me?”

You were really annoyed now, he had no right to just treat you this way. But you couldn’t deny the the burn of arousal in your lower stomach at seeing him so worked up.

“Games? What’s your fucking problem, Cuomo? you can’t just drag me in here like that.”

“What were you doing with that asshole out there? That your new boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” You yelled back. “You were the one who basically kicked me out of your office the other day, and now you’re actually asking me-“

Before you could finish, Chris kissed you, pressing you against the door with his body. The kiss was almost brutal, his teeth clashing against yours, he bit your lip and his tongue plunged into your mouth.

It had you clawing your hands into his shirt, your arousal kickstarting as a noticeable bulge pressed against your stomach.

Your need for the man, that you had carefully bottled up for about a week now, was now hitting you with full force.

“What are you doing?” You gasped between kissed, your breath already rigged from arousal. You wanted him so bad, your whole body screaming to be touched by the man in front of you.

“Shut up.” Chris growled, his huge hands sliding under your dress to squeeze your ass. You moaned into his mouth, palming his rock hard erection through his trousers before starting to work on his belt buckle.

The groan Chris let out against the skin of your neck he was currently kissing sent a pool of wetness between your legs, and you doubled your efforts to finally get him out of his clothes.

When his huge cock finally sprung free, you couldn’t suppress a moan at the thought of feeling him inside you. It earned you a smug chuckle from Chris.

“Stop laughing and fuck me.”you whined, and he grabbed your panties, effortlessly tearing the thin lace from your body, bunching up your dress around your hips in the process, leaving your dripping core completely bare.

“Those were my favorites, Cuomo.” You growled, but he just gave you a sharp slap to your ass.

“I don’t fucking care, baby.”Chris replied, and before you could come up with a snarky remark, a huge finger slowly got pushed into you, making you throw your head back as you let out a needy whine.

“More, please.” You whispered.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, baby, I’ll give you everything you want.” Chris replied, withdrawing his fingers.

He picked you up and pushed you against the door with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs. You didn’t care. He gave you one last hard stare before he slammed you down onto his cock without warning.

“Fuck.”You cried out , biting your fist to stop yourself from making any more noise, the office walls were thin.

“You like that baby? You think that damn boy out there could ever fuck you like that?”Chris pressed out, his hips thrusting in and out of you in a relentless pace. His brows were furrowed, teeth bared. He looked feral, aggressive, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs hard enough to bruise. You were transfixed by his face, your eyes locked on his as he pounded into you harder and harder.

“I asked you a fucking question, could he ever fuck you like that?”

“No, never.” You cried out, your voice almost breaking.

“Shit, Chris, don’t stop, please.” you pleaded, throwing your head back against the door with each of his thrusts. You were not above begging, there was that raw possessiveness in his voice and the way he manhandled you, and it drove you wild. You had fully succumbed to him by now, going limp in his arms as your body shook with every hard snap of his hips.

“Look at me.” Chris snarled, delivering a particularly forceful slam, making your head snap up, your eyes meeting his.

“That fucking punk won’t ever touch you again.“ Chris accentuated his words by grabbing you even more roughly.

“You’re being ridic-shiiit.” You groaned, as Chris pressed you down onto his cock, hitting that sweet spot. He was so deep inside you, and when he dug his nails into the flesh of your tights, the sweet flash of pain pushed you right over the edge.

All the built up tension of the last days left your body as you clenched around Chris cock, trying to muffle your cries by burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“That’s it, fucking squeeze my cock, baby.” He breathed into your ear, giving a few more sloppy thrusts before he tensed up and spilled inside you.

He lowered you back onto your feet and you slumped back against the door before Chris carefully maneuvered you over to his couch, sitting down beside you.

“Where the hell did that come from?”You broke the silence. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around what just had happened, but there was no denying that you had enjoyed the hell out of it. Your body was still tingling with the afterglow of your orgasm.

“I did some thinking, and decided that I need to stop being an asshole and go for what I want.“ Chris shrugged. "I wanted to apologize and talk to you first. But when I saw this jerk putting his hands on you, I just snapped.“

“Glad you finally came to your senses, you were acting like a total idiot” you said, seriously at first, before a grin took over your face. “But I forgive you, we have a party to get back to, my bathroom break is already taking way too long. But how does dinner tomorrow night sound?”

“Great, actually.” Chris replied, giving you the first sincere smile that evening, and maybe the most sincere you had ever seen from him. "But stay away from that guy, or I’ll drag you in here again.“

#Chris Cuomo #chris cuomo imagine #chris cuomo fanfiction #chris cuomo fic #chris cuomo x reader #fanfiction #cnn #cnn anchors #smut

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