#modern stack moore

I kind of need Stack Moore to walk into my bedroom, ACG boots thumping softly against the wooden floorboards.

I need the doors to croak a little under the weight of his heavy hands, that little huff as the door clicks shut behind him.

I need his hand resting on the back of my neck, before I can turn around and get a good look at him.

I need the glint of his watch as he reaches into his waistband, and the sound of his gun landing gently on my dresser.

I need the smell of his last blunt and his cologne floating around me.

I need the sliver of light cascading in from the street, illuminating the man of the hour as he makes his way to my bed.

I need his gold chain dangling by my chin as he whispers in my ear.

“Wassup, baby.”