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six feet under

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The cigarette hangs between his lips like a chain as his bruised and tattooed calloused hands run over his face, exhaustion steadily creeping up on the man in front of you. His eyes shift to yours and he gives you a smirk before pulling the cigarette from his lips, “Can I help you with something, babygirl?” He asks his signature grin never once swaying, you swallow thickly your eyes daring to look at him and when you do you can’t help the fire that ignites inside of you.

You stay quiet, your breath taken away because the man in front of you with the long jet-black hair and leather jacket that clung to him was mesmerising. You had never seen a man like him before in your life. “Cat got ya tongue?” He asks chuckling darkly when you don’t reply.

You gulp not knowing what else to do, his voice is sweet as nectar and as addicting as honey. “You can’t park here, it’s where the priest parks.” You say once you finally had regained your composure and realised what building you’re standing outside of. The church looms in the background and reminds you of just how sinfully good looking the man in front of you is.

He laughs again, the sound deep and guttural before he smiles up at you his eyes raking over your body and landing on your exposed legs. He brings the cigarettes dangling between his fingertips up to the lips you find yourself shamelessly staring at before taking a drag. His actions make you shake your head.

“You can’t do that either especially not outside a church, sir.” You say as well-mannered as you could because the man in front of you made you want to wield tattoos and smoke as idly he did. He laughs again at your words, dropping his cigarette and smiling at the sight of the ashes on the ground. The man gets up off his motorcycle grinning at you.

“This is a free country and babygirl I can do whatever the hell I want.” He says the devilish smirk on his face making you suck in a breath, he watches your reaction and smiles to himself.

“I doubt the priest would appreciate that sentiment.” You reply after allowing yourself to breathe, smiling slightly at the mysterious man against the gleaming motorcycle.

He chuckles at you, smiling widely in a way you knew the devil must do. “Good thing I have found someone much prettier to impress.” His drawl's as husky as it's intoxicating, his voice suddenly made you no longer want to go inside the church and listen to the Priest’s dull voice. You wanted the man in front of you up on the altar calling you babygirl and telling you all how sinful but delicious lust and temptation can be.
You smile trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks, your eyes locking on the ground not knowing if you can take any longer looking directly at the devil himself. What they had told you growing up and in church was right, the devil’s temptation is hard to resist.

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” You say knowing you need to change the topic of conversation before you give into the man in front of you.

He smirks at you, a smirk you try your hardest to ignore and then replies, “Men like me don’t tend to come to churches babygirl.” He says it again – babygirl and your heart races, your heart rate erratic at the velvety smooth tone he adopts.

“Men like you?” You ask in confusion and then he’s laughing again, the laugh you can’t seem to escape because everything you say seems to be funny to the leather clad man.

He runs a hand through his raven hair, “Sinners, babygirl.” He answers and the look of shock that passes throughout your features makes him laugh again, his smirk staying soundly on his face.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.” You reply, your eyes darting around the church parking lot spotting members of clergy approaching the entrance. You could feel their eyes on you as well as the sinful man in front of you wondering what a girl like you was doing talking to a boy like that.

“I thought I told you babygirl, I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He says proudly before drawing closer to, his rough hands meeting the soft skin of your plump cheeks. You don’t know how to breathe as his thumb swipes across the pink flesh of your bottom lips his eyes never once leaving yours.

You’re rigid, more still than you had been in your entire life as his fingers trail down your neck expertly finding your pulse point. A laugh escapes his lips as he feels the rapid thump of your rising pulse beneath his flesh, the effect he has on you making him resist a groan of pleasure.

“What’s your name, babygirl?” He asks his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear making a shiver run down your spine. You could feel yourself growing hotter every time his fingers danced over your skin.

You have to a take a deep breath, the closeness of his body to yours setting you on a fire as if you had found your way to the deepest depths of hell. You reply as calm as you can be when you feel his rough hand press against your lower back. “Y/N.”
He smiles against the side of your cheek, “Beautiful but I prefer babygirl, don’t you?” He asks and you nod a couple of times trying (and failing) to keep your composure. He laughs again, the sound has become addictive and you secretly yearn to hear him laugh more because it’s just as sinful as his appearance.

“Good, babygirl.” He says with a smile that makes heat pool in between your legs. His fingers find their way to your chin cupping it and pulling you closer to him, your lips painstakingly close to one another. “My name’s Bucky but I prefer it if you called me sir again.” His lips inch closer to yours as his hand drops lower on your back.

“God the things you do to me.” He says when you involuntarily bite down on the subtle pink flesh of your bottom lip. You swear you hear a groan pass his lips but don’t have any time to ponder over it because his lips are approaching yours.

His forehead presses against your own as his hands encase giving you nowhere to go but to him, as if you wanted to be anywhere else but with the stranger in the church parking lot who liked to call you babygirl and liked you to call him sir.

You can feel the fire inside of him, you can feel it growing stronger and closer with each rise of your chest. His effect on you was one you had never experienced but all the men who had danced their way into and out of your life were like you, plain, law abiders who went to Church every Sunday and prayed they would reach Heaven. Now you weren’t so sure, a part of you prayed to go to hell because you knew the man in front of you had been scorched by a hell fire and bathed in the seven deadly sins.

“Y/N!” You hear your name and know immediately whose voice is calling out to you, it’s your mother and when you finally remove your eyes from the masterpiece that is Bucky you can see her and the look of anger on her face.

Bucky smiles at the embarrassed look on your face before turning his head to look at your approaching mother. “A good girl with a bad boy, we’re match made in hell babygirl. Don’t forget that.” He says his thumb running over your bottom lip once more as he smirks down at you. He removes himself from you quickly at the sound of your mother’s high heels clicking against the concrete. Bucky retreats back to his motorcycle pulling out another cigarette and lighting it, laughing at the gasps and looks of horror from other church goers. You dare to look at him, he winks and suddenly you have no strength to stand.

You tear your eyes away when your mother stands in front of you, her hands on her hips and a look of scrutiny on her features. “What do you think you’re doing?” She asks and all of a sudden you want to be back with Bucky, your eyes wander to him and you’re met with the sight of him smoking and talking with a large blonde man. “Y/N!” She says to focus you so reluctantly you tear your curious eyes away from Bucky and the new stranger next to him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You say but your mother laughs bitterly not believing you and your unconvincing lies.

“Look Y/N I love you and I want what’s best for you and I can tell you know whoever the low life is in the leather jacket is not good for you. He looks like he belongs in hell with Lucifer.” She says shaking her head as her eyes lock on Bucky and his friend, he doesn’t look too engrossed in the conversation he’s having with the blonde man beside him.

You say nothing knowing it’s best not to argue with your mother, she smiles full of joy as you don’t reply. “Do you understand Y/N, what I’m trying to say, what I’m trying to do?” She asks and you nod.

“Yes I understand mother, there’s a place in heaven for me but if I surround myself with that man and people like him my place will be gone and the Lord will no longer love me.” You were as obedient as you knew your mother liked and she did because she broke out into a wide grin.

“Good, now let’s get inside it’s about to begin.” She says and you nod. You follow her reluctantly into the church, you try to look back at Bucky but your mother is doing everything in her power so that you don’t.

You enter the church and let out a breath you didn’t know you were keeping in, Bucky had taken your breath away and you were sure you wouldn’t be able to breathe around him if you ever saw him again. You sit there and worship but not the God you had yet to witness bur rather the God you had just met in the parking lot.