CREATURE FEAR!!!

You placed copies of the New Testament along the back of the church pews, adding more than necessary as the townspeople gathered in more numbers on Sundays than any other day. You didn’t necessarily like attending church, or the worship, but it was a familiar habit from a previous life that you clung to wherever you could. Your father would drag you to church kicking and screaming as a child, with you thinking your weekends were being unfairly ripped away from you. Your father disciplined you accordingly, him being an enthusiast of the big man in the sky, so much so he named you ‘Mercy’. He would often tell you ‘don’t give in to the temptation of the devil, he’s dragging you away from the Lord, Mercy’, when all you ever wanted was to watch your Sunday morning cartoons and play in the garden. You chuckle to yourself at the memory, knowing younger you would look at you now as if you had sprouted a second head for willingly volunteering your time towards this cause. If nothing else, it brought the community together and gave them hope. And hope was needed right now, with Negan prowling the communities.

Realising you had been a tad too generous with your bible-placement (all to avoid the bickering between churchgoers) you head back down the aisle to the office to grab some more. Rooting through the back of an old cabinet, you feel your heart stop and hairs stand on edge as the church door slams shut. You hadn’t even heard it open.

Of course, it was just Gabriel. Your reaction was nothing more than a subconscious instinct after living on the road with walkers around every corner for years. You huffed to yourself for getting so worked up, continuing your foraging for more mismatched and frayed copies of the bible. You thought of a new way to tease the priest for his newfound puppy love for Rosita, already grinning, as you hear the deep disgruntled mumbles of someone else.

You poke your head hesitantly round the doorframe leading back into the church hall, only to see the new leader of Alexandria.

Rick grunted as he sat in one of the middle pews of the church. He had seen Gabriel enter the clinic seeking out Rosita, he knew he would be a while. Rick needed some time alone to vent to the lord, he needed to take his helpless frustrations out on someone. His shoulders were tense, had been impossibly so since his first dreadful meeting with the real Negan. That tension never left as he stared up at the cross nailed crudely to the wall above the alter, if looks could kill it would set this entire church ablaze.

“My God, why have you forsaken me?” He mutters under his breath, scoffing with a laugh that held no light behind it.

“I bring my family, my people to this safe haven, protected them all I could. Fought your every battle… now I don’t know how long I can go on for…” he lets his head drop between his shoulders, eyes slipping closed sighing heavily into the silence of the large room.

He never was much of a ‘believer’, church visits every Sunday before the apocalypse felt more like a chore to keep up appearances with their neighbours, something to ensure Carl grew up a decent person with the fear of God instilled in him. But now… despite his wavering faith, lines blurring more and more with each passing day… what did he have to loose?

The small groan of the floorboards is what snaps him from his swirling thoughts, eyes trained to the direction of the sound as his hand shoots to his belt where his Colt Python comfortingly resided. All he sees is a flash of white disappear behind the doorframe of the office, knowing instantly who it was. He lets his hand drop from his side as he sighs, taught muscles slowly relaxing.

“Mercy?” He grunts, eyes narrowing as he watches you slowly emerge from the office with your head hung low in shame for eavesdropping. Your stomach swirled as he spoke your name.

“Sorry… didn’t wanna disturb you…” you say quietly, leaning against the doorframe avoiding his eyes. He stares at you, properly for the first time. Your white dress was probably the cleanest thing he’s seen in years,

“S’alright…” he sighs, running a hand through his brown curls as his adrenaline slowly dissipated. “Wasn’t like it was a two way conversation or anythin’…” he grumbles bitterly, eyes drifting back to the cross above the alter that stared back at him almost mockingly.

“Wanna talk to someone who will reply?” You offer, treading carefully towards him, still keeping a safe distance.

You had always been the therapist of your family, somehow good at just listening and being a person people could vent to, whether you liked it or not. Seeing the leader of your little community looki so utterly lost and defeated made your heart ache for him.

Rick huffs out a laugh, shooting you a dark and humourless look. “You gonna hop in the confession booth? Thought only priests were allowed in the other side.”

You roll your eyes, smoothing the lace of your dress down the backs of your thighs as you take a seat next to him, hands folded neatly in your lap.

“Not everything has to be a confession.”

He scoffs, looking at you with sarcastic eyes that looked tired and bloodshot, exhausted.

He sighs, feeling a pang of guilt for being so rude to such a sweet young girl who just wanted to help.

“Don’t think I can keep doing this… keep fightin’ ‘n loosin’ more people…” he finally admits, eyes drifting along the frayed and worn cover of the bible placed in the shelf of the pew before him. An inanimate object that had been through so much strain yet still held so much faith.

“You’re tired. That’s understandable. You’ve been through more than a lot of people could ever handle.” You reply softly yet firmly, stating it as more fact then reassurance.

He sighs and nods his head slightly, letting his shoulders slump.

“And here I am… at my lowest, talking to two planks of wood on a wall like that’ll help… like it’s ever helped before…” he mumbles the last line bitterly, jaw clenched tightly.

You watch him process his wavering faith like you had so many times growing up, your hands slide to the bench beneath you gripping the varnished wood with your fingers taking a deep breath.

“What if you placed your faith into something more… permanent…?” She suggests, eyes glancing to gauge his reaction.

His eyes flit over your face, taking in your features; the long white strip of fabric tied in a bow in your soft hair, your innocent wide eyes analysing him with a hidden maturity beyond your appearance, the lacy white dress clinging to your shoulders and chest… he grunts as he tears his eyes away from your body, face flushing red as he felt sick to his stomach for looking at you in such a sinful way.

He was broken. A broken, sinful man so far from redemption. No matter how desperately he tried to claw his way back, he knew who he really was.

“Like Death?” He finally replied, words sour with pessimism, eyes darting anywhere but at your angelic form beside him.

You laugh, all light and innocence. It sends a spark through his very being.

“No.” You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and glancing behind you at the church doors before sliding your hand over his.

“Let me show you.” You whisper, and he stares at you like you just shot his childhood dog. You stare back, his eyes filled with confusion and shock as your touch almost burns his flesh, his eyes darting between yours.

You stand silently, tugging him to his feet. He stares down at you, noticing just how much smaller you were next to him. A complete contrast; all rugged muscle and scars, next to a divine form wrapped in pure white innocence and purity.

The way his eyes trailed along the curves of your body and the exposed glimpses of your flesh made him sick, but he couldn’t convince himself to drag his gaze away.

You tug him down the aisle, leading him up the stairs to just behind the alter when you turn to face him, hand releasing his and he feels himself almost sigh at the lack of your touch.

“Get on your knees.”

He almost chokes, his eyes widening as his brows burrow in confusion. He must of misheard you… his perverse mind turning something so innocent-

“Do you seek faith and redemption?” You ask, tone firmer this time, yet still carrying that innocence that only came from a childhood filled with crafting the perfect angelic mask. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water as he attempts to stutter out a response, before clamming his mouth shut and nodding uncertainly.

“Then get on your knees…” your voice came out barely a whisper, punctuating each word slowly so he would listen. He sinks to his knees before you, staring up at you with lingering doubt. His eyes were glued to you, his mind slowly quietening as you smile oh so innocently down at him, a hint of something more… sinister, behind your innocent persona.

It was ridiculous really, to be looking up at you like this; someone almost half his age and height, someone who had hardly any dirt under her nails or blood soaking her hands, someone who was nothing more than the preachers acolyte. And he was looking up at you like you were good enough to eat.

“Pray to me.” You demand, words slipping through his ears like syrup so sickeningly sweet is almost made him gag.

“W-what?” He huffs out, the absurdity of the whole scenario making him shift uncomfortably against the wooden floorboards of the alter.

You tut quietly, your fingers finding his jaw and lifting his head to look up at you firmly. “You heard me perfectly clear.” You smile so warmly, invitingly, like a predator luring its prey in with false hope. “Pray to me. For forgiveness. Pray for strength.”

Rick swallows, blinking up at you dumbly as his mind went blank. It was the first time in years that he’d felt nothing in his mind, nothing but a soft buzzing making his vision go fuzzy, nothing but the feeling of your fingers under his jaw anchoring him to your gaze.

“I-I…” he swallows again, face flushing as he heard how broken his voice sounded. You smirk, watching him crumble from nothing but your words and touch alone.

“M-Mercy… I pray for strength…” he whispers unsurely, voice cracking. As the words left his mouth, his face turns to press his cheek further into your palm, like a man possessed and not knowing fully why he was moving in such a pleading manner.

Your lips part as you watch him loose himself, his usual dominant ego crumbling brick by brick as your thumb rubs soothing circles against his cheek, breath coming out in short shallow pants.

“I pray for redemption…” his bottom lip quivers, goosebumps raising in the wake of your holy touch. You felt your chest tighten, heat spreading between your thighs at the way he looked at you like you were his salvation in the midst of all this misery and threat.

He shuffles closer on his knees, shaky hands coming to clutch at your dress and tug, making you tut under your breath.

“Please… Mercy, please…” his gasps echoed throughout the hall, his resolve melting away. You didn’t know what he was begging for anymore, his pupils blown wide from the low-lighting… or was it from something deeper? something more primal.

You bit your lip when you saw the slight tent in his pants, staring down at it between his arms clutching at your dress. Your eyes raked up his body, shirt taught against his torso and muscles flexing under the skin of his arms as if you would fade away if he didn’t hold on tight enough. You met his eyes, bloodshot and welling with tears like he could cry if you didn’t give him any sort of relief soon.

Your eyes almost widened with shock at how easy it was to make him so needy.

“How much do you need it…?” Your voice comes out low, feeling the words rumble in your throat as you resist the urge to bite your lip. He swallows thickly, releasing your dress finally, only for his hands to slide up your thighs under the lace gliding against bare skin.

He moans, staring longingly as more of your skin was unveiled under his touch, just as you step back out of his reach. He stumbles forward, catching himself with a hand braced against the floorboards. You stared at his arm, the muscles flexing slightly as he holds his body up. That one arm alone could hold you down, even kill you. Yet you had him on his knees for you, panting like a thirsty stray dog.

“M-Mercy… I need it… need you…” he all but whimpers, his pleas falling from his wet lips pathetically as his chest rises and falls with every deep breath, words going straight to your core.

“Sinners don’t get to touch with their hands.” Is all you can muster, hands clenched at your sides as you watched him. He was a broken man, far from a sinner in your eyes, doing what he had to protect those he loved. But you knew the guilt he carried, and you thought maybe… maybe you could help him find some relief.

He straightens his body awkwardly, hands disappearing behind his back staring up at you with his brows knitted upwards so pleadingly.

You didn’t even have to ask him to put his hands behind his back…

He was never one to submit, especially in the bedroom. Not this easily. Maybe Negan had broken something in him; whether that was a good or a bad thing, neither of you were sure.

“Please Mercy… I’ll do anything… Tell me how to repent…”

“You’ll have to earn it if you want to see a glimpse of heaven.” You smirk, your tongue between your teeth like you’re holding back a laugh as you watch him shift on his knees, battling with his urge to touch you and keeping his hands behind his back.

You grip the hem of your dress, dragging it up your thighs tantalizingly slow, his mouth parted hungrily as he watches more of your flesh be revealed again to him. He whines like a dog when he catches the first glimpse of your matching white lace underwear, almost drooling at the sight.

His eyes where glancing up to yours, as if constantly seeking updated permission as he leans in to press a gentle trembling kiss to your clothed clit. Your hips jerked forward towards him instinctively seeking out friction, he moans at the contact and, without thinking, grips the backs of your upper thighs with renewed fervor, his only thought to see you feel good.

You thread your fingers through his locks, pulling his head back at the crown of his skull so he stared up at you, neck arching and Adam’s apple bobbing from swallowing his spit nervously.

“I said no touching.” You hiss through gritted teeth, he nodded his head in eager agreement.

“I-I know I’m sorry… Couldn’t help it-“ he whines, you release his hair and without breaking eye contact you tug at the makeshift bow tied neatly in your hair.

“Hands behind your back.”

He obeys immediately, face falling as he sees the long white fabric strip between your fingers and knows instantly what you’re using it for.

You crouch down behind him, expertly wrapping the fabric around his crossed wrists and tying them tightly together. You tug harshly ensuring he couldn’t slip out of them with a smirk.

Rick stared at the old floorboards beneath his knees with wide eyes, he could feel you’d used a certain knot for binding and his brain reeled as he wondered how many times you had used it on unsuspecting men like him, how many other people did you have on their knees for you?

He felt sick to his stomach at the thought, even though he had no right. He’d barely spoken to you properly before today, and here he was; pale with jealousy at the thought of another man at your alter, devouring your divine form, devoting themself thoroughly to you.

He would just have to prove himself worthy enough to be your only disciple.

“Are you going to be good for me?” You purr, and it’s enough to snap him out of his dizzyingly sickly thoughts. He nods his head and you stand before him with a smile, tenderly dragging your nails across his scalp as a reward.

He wastes no time nuzzling his head beneath your dress, lips trailing up your thigh before he reached your clothed cunt. He delve in, tongue coming out to soak the white lace underwear and groaning as your taste floods his senses.

His heart leapt with excitement and pride as his tongue slid down the fabric nearing your entrance and he realizes you were utterly soaked…

All for him…

He was greedy in how he ate you up. His tongue lapping and drenching the lace just to hear your breath hitch in your throat, his mouth working to swallow as much of you up as he could. Your breathing came out in heavy pants, chest rising and falling more prominently, it was the only expression you would allow him to inform him he was worshipping you well.

It had never felt so good to worship something so wholly, so thoroughly, and be appreciated back, even if it was in the form of your blown out eyes staring down at him through the haze of lust.

“Wanna taste you properly…” he mumbles around your flesh, the vibrations from his voice coursing through your stomach. You breathlessly giggle at his desperation, sounding lust drunk from your taste.

“Use your teeth, baby.” You whisper encouragingly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you watch his eyes dart up to your face. You catch a glimpse of his teeth before they drag across your hip, shuddering at how sharp they felt, as he takes the delicate fabric and drags it down tantalizing slow.

Ricks heart was hammering in his chest, the way you bit your lip made his body feel light and airy as he drags it down your thighs. He tries his best to be slow, to build up your anticipation, but his own feral need gets the best of him and he actually whimpers, arms flexing as he tugged his wrists against the restraints needing this pathetically thin fabric off.

Your underwear was barely half way down your thighs, a string of his spit mixed with your arousal between the lace and your drenched cunt, when he shoves his face between your thighs. His moan was all needy and guttural as he laps at your folds, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst. Once he gets to taste you, properly taste you, he looses all sense of self. His eyes slide shut as he laps at your clit, your uneven breaths that were getting shorter and whinier going straight to his aching erection.

You curse under your breath, fingers laced in his hair tugging him closer. You’d be embarrassed by how close you were already if it weren’t for the noises he was making between your thighs, as if he was close to coming in his jeans. You tilt your head slightly and laugh to yourself as you see the slightly darkened patch of denim against his crotch, which did nothing but earn a pathetic whine from Rick.

“Mercy… please… ‘know you’re close…” he gasps, tongue barely leaving your clit as he looks up at you for approval, begging to watch you come undone.

“Gonna have to be quick if you want it so bad… mass is starting soon.” You reply breathily, glancing at the church doors before back at him.

You cursed for this entire scenario playing out on an early Sunday morning. Any other day or time you could’ve truly dragged this out and tortured this poor man to ecstasy, but unfortunately there’s Alexandria residents dressing themselves for mass right now as Rick eats you up whole.

His tongue is back on you, lips latching around your clit teeth grazing messily, your hips moving with a mind of their own against his mouth. His nose bumps you as his tongue slides towards your entrance, you gasp at the feeling and thank god for gifting this man a nose perfect for eating me out.

Your grip was so tight in his hair he wouldn’t be surprised if he had chunks missing, not that he noticed; his vision was going white round the edges from the lack of oxygen, he did nothing but smother himself further. Your hand flew to your mouth choking back unholy moans as you came, head tilted back to his dismay. His arms flexed and jerked in the constraints needing to drag your hand away to hear those noises, needing to know he made you cry out like this.

He knew in that moment, this is all he needed; he needed this, this and more. More of you, more of you coming on his tongue, gulping you down like holy water that could finally wash away his sins. He’d do anything for more, and maybe it was his unbearably oxygen-starved horny brain, but if he just surrounded himself in you, in Mercy, he would finally be a good man.

His jaw was soaked, you coating his lips and dripping down his neck. You panted above him, mind barely gripping on to reality after the dizzyingly way he just ate you out. You ran your fingers through his hair, softer this time, nails scratching his scalp soothingly. He was panting more than you, looking up with wide eyes as he took in gasps of breath regaining full consciousness. Eyes filled with-

-Did I do good… Did I prove myself to be worthy…?

You grinned, crouching down to his level and pressing a loving kiss to his forehead. He shudders beneath your touch.

“I think you’ve earned your forgiveness, Rick.”

And the way you look at him, gently warm eyes sparkling, he melts under your touch.

“Thank you Mercy…” He breathes, his eyes trained on you like if he blinked you’d disappear.

You catch the way he glances to your lips, mentally giggling at how easy he was to read. You relent, thinking he deserved a reward after giving you an orgasm that intense, after all, and lean in to kiss him.

He complies eagerly, kissing you back desperately quick, licking your lower lip begging for entrance. Oh, the small disappointed whimper he releases when you pull away is enough to relent, but you reassure him with a smile.

“Do you think you can sit through mass and wait for me?”

Rick goes through a mental checklist in his head in lightning speed as he considers his duties as a leader, if he could afford to be so entangled with you after taking time out already just to attend church. They just about had enough spare food and guns for the Saviors, enough to keep his own people fed and happy for a week or two. They’ll always need more, but then again there might not be a tomorrow…

He nods his head in finality, swallowing as he catches a glimpse of your teeth through your smile.

“I think you deserve a reward, then.” You whisper, leaning in close just to skillfully untie the strip of fabric binding his wrists behind his back with one hand.

His body is alight at your words, goosebumps rising and cock jerking against his jeans he almost whimpers. He was a live wire, and you just loved toying with him.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“Love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.”

Your eyes flicker to Rick, expecting to see him slumped in his seat in guilt. Instead, his icy eyes met yours, staring up at you through his lashes with a look of reluctant shameful acceptance of his feelings towards you after the events that transpired a mere hour earlier.

You smirk, barely a twitch of the corner of your mouth, one only Rick would recognize. He swallows and hangs his head to hide the blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

Gabriel finishes his readings, ordering everyone to line up to receive communion from either him or yourself.

Rick makes sure to stand in your line. He glances around nervously, hoping no one saw how determined he was to join your line, even though it was longer than Gabriel’s. His jaw clenches as he watches you tilt the goblet to the man’s mouth in front of him with a new wave of feral possession, like a guard dog watching it’s owner get too close to danger.

He needed to get a grip on himself, keep his emotions in check to avoid looking suspicious. He shifted on his feet, downplaying the way his heart thrummed in his chest. But when the man in front of him walked away, he saw your polite smile turn to genuine happiness to see him.

His breath caught in his throat. His heart lurched with pride seeing you look so pleased to see him. He needed to pull himself together.

As he steps forward you smile, a sweet and loving smile- only for him, he tells himself. You lift the goblet to his lips, his eyes wide and trained on yours as he parts his lips obediently. In that instant he forgot there were at least 20 other people around them, waiting for their communion. It was just him and his own personal God to worship before him, to receive praise and forgiveness from.

The red wine trickles to his mouth, bitter and tart on his tongue as he savors the taste before gulping it down. You bring your thumb to the corner of his lips and wipe the dark red stain away, a small smile playing on your lips, your touch screaming ‘good boy’.

You lift the eucaress and he sticks his tongue out instinctively, face reddening as he began to remember other people were also in this church, behind him, waiting for their turn with Mercy. You place the wafer on his tongue and smile up at him, a tap beneath his jaw to give him permission to close his mouth with an innocent giggle.