Billy X Girlfriend Reader Who Loves To Ride Him And Is Trying Her Absolute Best To Be Quiet Because Max

Billy x girlfriend reader who loves to ride him and is trying her absolute best to be quiet because Max and El are a few rooms down and afterward she makes dinner for them and El goes “We’re those happy screams” and Billy can’t stop laughing at her embarrassed expression😭

this was supposed to be short but it’s actually quite long i’m v sorry anon (GAH IM NOT HAPPY W THE ENDING BUT U KNOW IM POSTING ANYWAYS)

content warnings: smut 16+ (p in v), oral (m receiving) mild dacryphilia, (kind of) breathplay (??), face fucking, billy’s a lil bit soft for reader<33

“F-fuck!” you squeal, head lolling as you bounce yourself with vigour onto Billy’s cock. His hands guide your hips at a brutal pace, lifting and dropping you back onto him until you’re crying.

His broad hand flies to cover your drooling mouth in an effort to keep you quiet; he grunts, cradling the back of your head with the other hand and pulling you to the juncture of his neck. He removes the hand from your kiss bitten lips as soon as he’s got you firmly fixed against his skin and you begin to mouth at his jaw, sucking, kissing, biting.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs lowly, clasping your hand in his as you grab for his hair. “‘ve got ya, calm down.”

“Feels too good,” you mumble, teary eyed. He coos mockingly, the gentle thumb that comes up to push away your tears contrasting his mean tone.

“My baby’s fucked dumb already?” You nod, too high on the feeling of him buried deep inside of you to register that he’s teasing. It’s not long until your legs ache and you start to slow, frustrated by how close you are but not quite being able to get there.

“‘s alright, just hold on to me,” Billy instructs, pushing you back and fucking up into you meanly. You try your utmost to keep quiet until Billy sticks three calloused digits down your throat, stretching your mouth to accommodate them. The action alone makes you clench around him; the vibrations of your moans against his fingers go straight to his cock. He laughs. “Fuckin’ slut, you like bein’ treated like a stupid whore?”

Your noises are high and strung out and completely incoherent; he slows and deepens his movements, hitting the sweet spot inside of you that has you turning white hot and seizing up.

“Mmh, cumm-ing…” you manage to choke out around his fingers.

You squirm and convulse, trying to push him away, but he fucks you through it, letting you pull cruelly at his curly locks as you thrash. Once your sounds grow short and sharp, he knows you’ve had enough and pulls out, tugging at his dick.

“In my mouth,” you breathe out. “Please.” He smirks, pulling you to the end of your bed so your tear streaked face hangs off of the edge. He grabs two fistfuls of your hair, pushing in until he hits the back of your throat.

“Shit, fuckin’ tight, jesus,” he swears, using your throat as a fleshlight. Every time you gag around him, he moans. “Oh, yeah. This keepin’ that slutty mouth quiet?”

You’d answer if you could, but you’re preoccupied with stifling your gurgling sounds as you gasp for air, nose pressed against his balls.

“Good girl, fuck, that’s it.” He pushes all the way in, holding your nostrils shut as he shoots his load straight down your throat with a stuttered moan. You slap at his thighs, your head growing fuzzy the longer he cuts off your air supply, until eventually he lets go, grinning as you crawl up the bed and gasp.

He sits himself next to you, opening his arms ever so slightly. It’s the most invitation you’ll get from him, so you take it, crawling into his lap. It’s quiet as you wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck, until he breaks the silence with a,

“You did good.”

Your eyelids flutter and you give him a dopey smile; you startle when you feel his own arms wrap around you and tug your naked form closer. Cuddling is a completely new concept for him; he seems to enjoy being this close to you, almost as though you’re one person.

You give yourself a minute to enjoy his closeness, eyes shut as you doze quietly against him, and then you’re pushing yourself away despite his almost silent protests.

“Where are you going?” he asks as you pull your clothes back on, doing your best to hide the array of bruises littered over your skin.

“I told the girls I’d make them dinner, remember?” You snag one of his t-shirts and pull it over your head, inhaling his strong scent of cheap cologne and cigarettes.

“Yeah, I remember.” He stands and pulls his clothes back on, kissing your jaw.

It’s mostly quiet as you get to work on dinner for the girls. Billy sits and watches you from the table, lips quirking into a smile as you hop around, plating things up and setting the table.

You call the girls for dinner and they bound down the stairs eagerly, sitting opposite where you and Billy have situated yourselves. They eat in silence, every so often exchanging snickers that have you cocking an eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

El turns to face you, leaning forward slightly. Her eyes widen and her lips part as she whispers, as though the two of you are sharing a secret.

“Were those happy screams?”

You choke on a mouthful of pasta, hands flying to cover your stricken face. You can just about make out Billy’s smug, grinning expression from beside you and you elbow him. He laughs, leaning towards El.

“Yeah, those were very happy screams.”

“Billy, shut up!”

“What?”

You’re mortified, and you spend the rest of the meal dead silent, your face burning.

“Babe, it’s not a big deal,” Billy laughs, seemingly amused by your humiliation.

“Yeah, for you! Cos you can be all smug about it. It’s embarrassing for me!”

Max coughs, nudging your foot under the table.

“It’s okay. If it’s any consolation, we didn’t even hear that much.”

You hide your face, rigid as Billy tugs you into his lap. The rumble of his chest as he laughs makes you purse your lips primly and bat at his chest.

“You’re so mean!”

“It’s funny!”

His Girl | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Request: Hi!! so i wanna request that billy and the reader are at a party and some guy starts hitting on her. like he really won’t take a hint, and billy gets all protective/jealous. maybe he beats the shit out him cause he made some lewd comment about HIS GIRL, who knows??? :)

Requests are open! | Commissions are open!

Warnings: drinking, violence/fighting

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!’’

You looked on from the crowd as your boyfriend defended his title as Hawkins Keg King, sipping your own drink as you watched. He was chugging as much beer as humanly possible, his chin and torso glistening with it…and you were enjoying a nice fruity punch in a much tamer, more civilized way. 

Still, you couldn’t deny that you loved the sight of him going a little wild like that. 

The whole keg king deal seemed a little silly to you, something boys did to prove whose dick was bigger, but it was fun to always see Billy coming out on top. You’d known him for a while, actually, and for a long time, your relationship was sort of kept under wraps…but now, you’d come to a party together, and even though he was busy proving to the rest of the guys that he was some sort of big macho alpha male or whatever, you were together. Out in public. And you were certain that now, more than just the cool group he hung out with would figure out that you were Billy Hargrove’s girl. 

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nocturnal.

pairing: bruce wayne x f!reader (or afab!reader)

summary: bruce wayne is a broken and bruised man. you’re the sweet healing that he needs. 

warning: minors dni! pwp, D/s dynamics, bondage, biting kink (kinda), masochism, whipping, oral (f!recieving and m!recieving), fingering, handjob, bruce wayne is a sad little man and i could fix him

word count: 3.4k 

a/n: huge shoutout to @sleepycapn​ for beta reading! this was a lot of fun to write, i hope y’all enjoy <33 and as always i’d love to hear your thoughts!!

There was something not quite right about Bruce Wayne. He was made of loss, his soul heavy and sullied by whatever secrets he carried.

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So does anybody else in the Billy Hargrove loving part of this fandom, have a thing for smoking? 👀

Yeah, we know. Smoking is bad for you, it kills you. Save your lungs. Don't smoke, kids! Stay in school! Ect ect...

「 Shotgun 」

✯ Pairing: Billy Hargrove x (fem)Reader

✯ Summary: Just smutty smoking kink brain vomit. Plain and simple.

✯ CW: Smoking (lots of it), smut, oral sex (m receiving), dom!Billy, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, creampie, pain play

🛑 18+ MINORS DNI 🛑

✯ Word Count: 1.3k

✯ A/N: Just a short lil thing I thought about while I was writing Part 2 for Kiss, Marry, Kill (still coming soon). Had to make it a separate thing of course, because it's not fluffy at all 🤣🤣 just horny brain going brrrr. ♡

Billy plopped down on your couch with a huff. He laid back, manspreading with a lit cigarette between his lips. You just admired how damn good he looked from the other side of the room, ready to walk over to him and straddle his lap. Until his voice stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh, babe." He pulls the cigarette away to exhale a thick puff of smoke, and points his finger towards the floor. "On your knees."

The rasp in his voice made you weak. Ready to do anything he requested, if he spoke like that. So you lowered down to your hands and knees, crawling slowly towards him as he curled his finger. Beckoning to you. Drawing you closer. "That's a good girl. You know what to do."

You did. This was a routine between you two when he was stressed. Goodness, was he stressed after today. Already on his third cigarette in the past two hours. He needed this. Needed your special brand of relief. The kind that had you immediately reaching to unbuckle his belt once you found yourself between his spread legs.

Billy carried on taking drags, not lifting a finger to help you free his cock from the confines of his jeans. All he did was sigh with relief when it finally escaped and sprung up, almost slapping you in the face. Wouldn't be the first time. You stroked him slowly, squeezing hard enough to feel his pulse in your hand. Anything to get a reaction.

"Are you gonna play with it, or get to the point?" He spat, looking down at you. The tone was harsh, but it was attention nonetheless. That was the game. Do something worthy of his attention, and you might be rewarded. So long as you do it in a timely fashion. Billy could be very impatient when he's riled up. Stress made him a ticking time bomb.

Your response was wrapping your lips around his tip, sucking softly and circling with your tongue. Teasing. Just before his hand came down on the back of your head. His hips rolled up, forcing his entire length into your mouth in one push. A satisfied groan leaving his mouth as he heard you gag. "If I have to fuck your throat to cum, then there's no reason for me to fuck your pussy. Right?"

Your eyes teared up, struggling to shake your head no in response to his words. You needed him just as much as he needed you. Only your relief was based on him railing you. Fucking you into the mattress like he wanted to drive you straight through the damn thing. He knew that. So he held it over your head whenever you misbehaved.

"No? Then be my good girl, and do what you're told."

He flicked ashes on to your back, where the bottom of your shirt rode up to expose your skin. You felt the heat for all of two seconds, but it was enough to make your eyelids flutter. Your throat relaxed, giving into the usual rhythm of taking his full size. He removed his hand once you started to move on your own. Slurping up the saliva that pooled and escaped the corners of your mouth. That earned you a genuine, full bodied moan. You cherished the sound. Aching to hear more.

Your body worked on autopilot, bobbing and slurping. Licking and stroking. Alternating back and forth between the two. At first he just continued to smoke his cigarette and stare at the ceiling, as if you weren't even there. The more effort you gave, the more you got from him. Pinching the cigarette so hard he almost crushed the filter. He held it away, squinting his eyes as he exhaled sharply. "Just like that, baby. Oohhh, that's so fucking good."

Internally you were beaming with pride, egged on by his praise as if he were giving you a medal for 'World's Best Cock Sucker'. You almost didn't care if he came in your mouth instead of buried deep inside your pussy. It would only fuel your ego (temporarily). But he was true to his word, and yanked your head up with his free hand. Bringing you face to drool-covered face with him. Not a care in a world for how messy you looked. He leaned in like he was going to kiss you, but stopped just as his lips brushed against yours. He made a small 'O' with his lips, blowing smoke right into your mouth. Which you inhaled greedily. Tasting the tobacco and leftover mint from his gum.

"Come up here and get your prize." He said with a wink. Letting you stand and hastily remove your pants and panties. You didn't even bother with getting completely naked. All he needed was access to your pussy. Access you would grant him any day of the week.

"I know you're too damn impatient to let me take you upstairs, so-" He patted his lap, pulling his pants down just enough to give him more movement in his hips and legs. "Skipped my core workout today anyway. So, I guess this kills two birds with one stone."

You straddled his lap, waiting for him to line himself up with you. He rubbed the tip of his cock through your folds to coat himself with your slick before he pulled you down. You were smart enough to not let the position fool you. Regardless of whether you were on top or not, he was the one fucking you. His hands planted, palms down, into the couch cushions beneath him for leverage. Feet planted as well. You readied yourself for the ride of your life, and mentally prepared for the stomach ache you'll be feeling all day tomorrow.

Up, up, and up. He thrusted upward with his full body, lifting his ass off the couch every time he stuffed his full length into you. Bouncing you on him like a bucking bronco. His cigarette (still tucked between his lips) was almost burned down to the filter, dropping ash on his exposed chest as he fucked you senseless. Either he was too focused to feel it, or didn't care. So you raised a shaky hand and plucked it out of his mouth, putting it to your own lips to take the last few pulls. You almost went into a coughing fit, inhaling smoke as a moan pushed it's way out of your mouth. It made him chuckle and fuck you harder. Huffing and groaning with sweat soaking the curls that bounced on his forehead.

He had to be stirring your intestines like pasta around a fork (although you knew that wasn't at all how anatomy worked). So impossibly deep, you felt like he was splitting you open. Breaking the dam of your climax that caused you make the space between you both so wet and slippery. Your eyes were all over the place, going in and out of focus. Catching glimpsed of his face, contorting as he succumbed to his own pleasure. "Do it." He pushed out between gritted teeth. "Put it out. I'm so close."

You nodded, unable to even speak but you understood what he wanted. You pulled the remains of the cigarette away from your mouth, pressing the lit tip of it to his abdomen. His whole body shook, vibrating as he cried out. Reaching his climax at the exact same time. His legs finally gave out, bringing you both down to a sweaty heap on the couch.

"Shit, Billy.. I don't wanna get sweat all in it. Let me clean it." You peeled yourself off of his sticky torso, looking down at the small circular burn on his skin. Fresh and red. He chuckled. "A little too late for that, darlin'. We can take care of that in a minute. Just..." Instead of finishing his sentence, he pulled you back in to his embrace. You wouldn't get too many mushy words out of him. Actions however, were more likely. He would show you how much he cares about you. Like now, pressing kisses to your forehead and the side of your face. Whatever surface was in reach. He didn't have to energy to bend and capture your lips.

"Better than fuckin' therapy." He sighed.

"Honey... That's concerning."

✯ A/N: I swear, I am scarring my roomate for life with all the random questions I ask him, for the sake of my smut. 🤣

Me: Hey roommate, you know about working out and shit, right?

Roommate: Yeah, I go to the gym-

Me: What's it called when you workout like this? *proceeds to lay on my back and pelvic thrust into the air like a damn fool* I know I've seen people do it with weights but I dunno the name.

Roommate: *sighs and reaches for vodka*

Anyway, hope you enjoy this short little smut-let. Part 2 of Kiss, Marry, Kill will be posted properly later today. ♡ Then I have a request to work on, and Part 2 of Until The Sun Comes Up.

Ao3, Masterlist, more links coming soon...

Cigarettes to Lovers

Five times you got after Jason for smoking.

Jason Todd x gn Reader

I. In the Garden

You wrinkle your nose at the smell drifting past you. A thick, smoky smell, making your throat scratch and your eyes watery. Glancing to your left, you catch sight of the culprit: tall, large build, leaning against a stone wall, watching Damian train in the yard. He’s wearing loose-fitting jeans and a sweatshirt, despite the weather, effectively hiding the sculptured frame you know is underneath. You watch him a little while longer, noticing that even though his body language is relaxed, his eyes are set intently on Damian, following the boy’s every move as he works with his katana. Then he takes another drag of the cigarette in his right hand, and as he blows out the smoke, it drifts right past you. You snap your book shut and, getting up from your comfortable patio chair, march over to Jason. Before you get too close to him, you slow your pace and compose yourself, so that by the time you catch his attention, you’re languidly walking towards him. You come to a halt in front of him and he gives you a quick look before directing his gaze back to Damian.

“Can I help you?” He asks dully.

You let out a short, indignant laugh before taking the cigarette right out from the corner of his mouth and stamping it on the ground.

“You just did,” you reply sweetly.

His attention is back on you in an instant, glaring at you. Before he can say or do anything, you turn around and walk back to your chair. He watches you walk away, a slight look of respect on his face. But by the time you’re settled back into your previous reading position and look over at him, he’s focused on Damian again. You watch as he pulls another cigarette out of his pocket and lights it. Huffing, you take up your things and stomp your way back inside. Jason spares a glance at the house when he hears the screen door close not so gently behind you. He smirks, turning back to the Robin.

“You’re getting sloppy in this heat.”

Damian lets out a frustrated yell, hacks his sword at a nearby bush, straightens back up again, and continues his drill.

II. In the Kitchen

Sluggishly, you make your way to the kitchen, in search of anything to snack on. Upon entering the kitchen, you try to pretend you don’t notice Jason slouched at the table, looking at his phone. You scrounge around in a few different cupboards until a familiar smell reaches your nose. Frowning, you slowly spin on your toes to face Jason. Leaning against the counter, arms crossed, you stare at him until he finally looks up at you.

“What?” He impatiently asks.

“Smoking is bad enough, but smoking indoors? That’s just rude.”

He rolls his eyes and goes back to staring at his phone.

“Especially in a room we all like to hang out in,” you finish. He doesn’t respond but keeps ignoring you. Setting your jaw, you angrily grab the box of Cheez-Its you found and walk around the table until you’re standing over him. He makes no reaction, much to your annoyance. So once again, you find yourself plucking the cigarette away from him, this time out of his hand that’s rested on the table. He’s not as shocked this time, only reacting with a heavy sigh.

“Why are you so mean to me?”

You roll your eyes, making your way out of the kitchen.

“Because I know you can take it,” you call after him.

He can’t help but smile to himself.

III. In the Garage

The sounds of grunting as you walk past the garage door distract you from your original task, instead luring you into the garage. Jason is bent over the front of one of the many cars in the large room. His arm is hidden deep inside the workings and his face is strained, as he obviously struggles with something. You stroll over and sit on a bench beside him.

“Having fun?”

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a look that says, “guess.”

You laugh a little and move to rest your elbows on your knees and your head on your hands, contentedly watching him work.

Eventually, he stands up straight, supposedly giving up for the moment. Walking over to a workbench, he wipes his hands on a dirty rag and takes a cigarette from a pack on the table. You must’ve made a sound because he looks at you and comments on your disapproving face.

“You’re not gonna take this one away from me, are you?”

You sigh. “Nah.” He looks surprised. “Cars suck, you probably deserve it.”

Jason chuckles and then, to your surprise, takes out another cigarette and offers it to you.

You laugh. “I’m good, but thanks.”

He shrugs, lighting his own. “I’ll corrupt you one of these days.”

You laugh kind of awkwardly and feel your cheeks darken. “I think you underestimate how much of a rule follower I am.”

He smiles slyly. “Still, wouldn’t mind testing those limits. Could be kind of fun.”

Now you’re really blushing. Your mind is telling you you need to find a way out of this conversation before it goes further. But you don’t necessarily mind where it’s going, either. You jump off your stool and walk over to him. Laying a hand on his bicep, you cock your head slightly.

“Could be,” you say, playfully.

You leave the cigarette in his hand, but make sure to grab the whole pack off the table as you walk past.

IV. At a Gala

Jason wasn’t thrilled to be here, to say the least. All these upper-class, overly privileged people in one room made him nauseous with the amount of eye-rolling he’d been doing. He supposed he had to admit to himself that technically speaking, now he too, was an upper-class, overly privileged person. His face contorted in distaste at the thought. Anyways, it made him way too anxious to be around all these people and he was really starting to regret letting Bruce talk him into coming. But he managed to sneak away for a moment, on a yet undiscovered-by-lovers balcony, leaning against the railing and blowing smoke into the cold, Gotham night air. If you could ignore the voices and clinking of champagne glasses coming from inside, it was relatively peaceful out here. Until that is, he heard quiet footsteps coming up behind him.

“I’m outside this time.”

You scoff. Giving up your attempt to sneak up on him, you walk to his side, taking up the railing next to him. You look up at him with an irritation-ridden face. He can tell right away that neither of you is having the lovely evening that was promised to you.

“I’m not in the mood, Y/n,” he says, taking another draw.

“Neither am I,” you respond, reaching up to take the offending object from his mouth. He quickly grabs your hand, gripping it firmly.

“I swear to god, Y/n, if you try to take this cigarette away from me I’ll- ” he stops.

“You’ll what?” You ask, interested in whatever threat he comes up with. Then you notice his eyes change. They’re still hard but in a different way. Less angry, more… lustful. His voice changes too, from short-tempered to flirty and raspy.

“Wouldn’t you rather have me show you?”

V. In the Bedroom

Sheets pile around your hips and your thighs that are straddling Jason. He’s propped against the headrest of your bed, his hair beautifully mussed. You’re entertaining yourself by tracing the lines of the scars and muscles on his torso. He’s entertaining himself by watching you. Both of you are simply content in each other’s hold.

A soft smile adorning your face is quickly replaced by a frown when Jason reaches for a pack of cigarettes he has tucked away behind the lamp and some books on your nightstand. You can’t believe him.

You continue openly frowning at him as he lights it. He’s either ignoring you or just oblivious because he doesn’t seem to care about the fact that your hands are now folded across your chest.

“Really?” You ask. His eyes look up at you, he pulls the cigarette away from his mouth, and gives you his own look of “really?”

You sigh and take the stick out of his fingers. He groans and drops his head back against the headrest. You stop for a moment, considering your actions, and then pluck the lighter from his other hand. As you light the cigarette in your mouth, he smirks at you, absolute satisfaction painting his face.

“I told you I could corrupt you.”

“Don’t get too excited.” You take one puff then reach to put it out on the base of your lamp. You don’t want to ruin your beautiful wooden nightstand.

“Ah-ah,” he tuts, taking it away from you before you can put it out, and puts it back in his own mouth.

“Jason,” you plead, “we’re in my house now. And I don’t want it smelling like smoke. Listen, if you have to, just go outside.”

He looks at you, feeling slightly guilty.

“But then I’d have to leave you in this bed.”

“Well, thats just a choice you’re gonna have to make, then.”

He exhales. You’re resolved but slightly disappointed, waiting for him to move out from under you and leave. But he doesn’t.

“Damn.”

He twists around, reaching to put out the cigarette in the trash can on your floor. Once he’s sitting upright again, his hands go to your hips, slowly pulling you closer.

You wait for him to say something more, but he doesn’t, so you smile at him. He returns your smile, before flipping you over on your back, covering up your giggling with kisses.

I like a good bitch reader

only as alone as i wanna be | [bh]

A/N: Well instead of working on my Peter Parker writing challenge fic, Billy Hargrove won’t leave my brain alone. So here we go. 

I’ve retconned the Billy & Max relationship a bit for this, so it’s a lil au. Sorry!

Please let me know if you think I should continue!

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader (I’m still trying to get the hang of writing for the “reader.” Hopefully this is vague enough that you can imagine yourself. If not, send me feedback so I can get better!) 

Warnings: Language. Passing, vague mentions of sex. Some Billy Hargrove chain-smoking. Bad writing with a jumpy plot. Seriously, I think I’m way too abrupt. Please send feedback. This one is probably doomed for a re-write. 

Word Count: 2.4k of nonsensical, self-important musical references and haphazard, fleeting feelings.

Summary: The snarky record store girl does not like Billy Hargrove. Not at all. 

**NOT MY GIF!** 

—

Winter, 1984

The bell dinged above the door, a jarring interval between the wistful tones of Siouxsie and the Banshees’ Take Me Back. Prompting you to look up from your stack of records in mild annoyance. It had been such a productive day until now, and the vinyl wasn’t going to restock itself. 

Well. 

Had you known Mr. Born-In-The-USA-Bruce-Springsteen himself was going to walk in, you would’ve played something far less his taste than Siouxsie. Just to annoy him. Serves him right, right? 

He paused in the doorway of the shop, wrinkling his nose almost imperceptibly as the sound hit his ears, before striding on toward the “Pop/Rock” section of the store, thumbing his way through Motley Crue’s latest.

Figures, you thought. A man who douses himself with as much commercial-ass hairspray and cologne would like some commercial-ass garbage “metal.” Besides, you’d walked past the blue Camaro enough times in the school parking lot to hear the dulcet tones of whatever bland-ass hair metal he was currently into trying its best to blast the doors off of his beloved metal steed. 

You felt a twinge of guilt. You shouldn’t judge the customers for their musical taste so quickly– but between the old church ladies who came in for Handel’s Messiah or whatever they had heard over public radio that week, and the girls from your class riffing on Madonna, you had had just about enough. 

Hadn’t anyone experienced the true depth of Queen? Keep Yourself Alive, man!

You had been working at Hawkins’ local record store during the summers since childhood – Old Mr. Cohen who owned the place used to let you sort tapes into piles for cents on the hour until you were old enough for a real job. Immersed in the music since a young age, you appreciated the breadth and depth the shop had to offer– your favorites developing into pieces heavy on synth. Bonus points if the lyrics made you feel especially existential. You loved that moody shit. 

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