A/N- Negan's Mistress was written as a oneshot and I'm not planning on turning it into a full WIP but I was asked to add another part and here it is... hope you enjoy ;)

"Look at that," you say, pulling over the truck.

Negan laughs, "there's only one kind of toy store I like going in sweetheart."

"Oh come on, it's the end of the world... people wanna play scrabble." Before he can protest too much you're already removing the keys from the ignition and escaping the truck with one satisfying slam of the door.

Negan never takes you on runs, in fact you barely get to leave the Sanctuary. Seeing the bright letters of the toy store has ignited something in you. Something you never thought you'd see or feel again. Your inner child.

Negan's huffing as he climbs out of the truck and you wonder if he has an inner child or if he is just pure man right down to his steely core. Then you wonder if he's ever going to bring you out on a run again after this. You're half expecting him to say 'no' and command you to 'get your ass back into the truck', but he doesn't. He doesn't even complain, he breaks into the store as easy as stealing candy from a baby.

In fact Negan even holds the door open, gesturing with Lucille, "knock yourself out sweetheart."

You smile, teasing his good humour, "see, we're having fun already." Although you're pretty damn sure Negan had other things in mind when he left panties on your bed last night and a note that said, 'let's go for a ride'. You're certain his ideas had nothing to do with your inner child and everything to do with your outer woman but fuck it, he could wait.

You unsheathe the knife Negan has given you and hold it like you know how to use it. You're quietly confident that Negan would take care of anything that might lurk in the aisles. You're pretty sure he wouldn't have even opened the door of the store if he thought you might get hurt.

He might be a lot of things but he's not stupid.

Thankfully the glass outer walls provide just enough natural light to reach even the furthest corner of the store as you begin your careful exploration. It doesn't take long to confirm that there's nothing but the two of you and you don't want to think of the reasons why a toy store remains unlooted and untouched. You just want to be in the moment and forget about the world outside the glass doors.

You lose Negan as he becomes distracted by the ping pong paddles but you're already formulating other plans. The sort of plans that might ensure you definitely never come on a run again, but sometimes the reward far outweighs the risk.

The next time you see Negan you hide behind a shelf full of Barbie dolls. He's bouncing a ping pong ball on a paddle, a goofy grin on his face and you smile, almost changing your mind about what you're going to do. Then you think about his wives, the woman you have to share him with and suddenly his carefree grin annoys you a little bit. Hell, it annoys you more than a little bit so you do what any woman would do. You shoot him. Right in the side of his head, bullseye.

"What the fuck?" he shouts, clasping his hand to his temple before bending down to pick up the bright yellow bullet that has settled between his boots.

You wait for him to look your way before you blow the end of your plastic gun like Annie Oakley. Although doing anything but laugh like a hyena seems challenging at this point.

"Oh, you're gonna regret that," his face fills with a fiendish grin as he throws down his ping pong paddle.

"Maybe," you shrug trying desperately to contain your smile as you reach for part two of your plan. You clutch the huge plastic gatling gun awkwardly, "I might regret this more."

"Now hold on a minute," Negan holds up his hands, his face suddenly not as amused. You think of his wives and sure, maybe you want to punish him a little.

So like any good Savior, your own grin widens and you show absolutely no mercy. You pull the trigger with glee chasing his dash to the nearest aisle with a hailstorm of yellow foam and zero regrets.

Then you hear him laughing before he shouts, "you better watch your back sweetheart, this is fucking war."

Maybe he has an inner child after all, or maybe he just really hates getting beaten by a girl.

You don't know how long Negan chases you around the store but when your throat is hoarse from laughter, your body is hot from exhaustion and the tiles are covered in foam you finally decide to wave a white flag. Or as close to a white flag as you can get. You remove your shirt flinging it over your shoulder before unclipping your bra and congratulating Negan for inadvertently picking out a white set for your gift.

You lay across the ping pong table that's displayed near where you first shot Negan and hold the strap of your bra on your tip of your index finger. Then you wait, slightly uncomfortable until he see's you. The dark look that fills his eyes makes your body begin to tingle. You swish your finger and your bra dances, "do you accept my surrender?"

Negan swallows hard before he throws his gun with a clatter to the floor, "what are the terms?"

You let the bra strap slip from your finger, "what do you want?"

It's the right answer, he grins. He unzips his leather jacket and throws it on top of a display of bikes. "Oh I want it all..." he says as he squares up to the pingpong table, his hands taking your waist and dragging you across the smooth surface until you're perched on the edge. "But first I want your mouth…"

You slide from the table, your fingers tracing his zipper. The best thing about giving to Negan is getting from him in return. You kiss his jawline, smelling the scent of his skin, your nose brushing into his stubble and imagining that same stubble brushing against your inner thighs. Your kisses become more forceful, more excited, you suck his neck wanting to leave a lovebite next to all that beautiful stubble. You want him to think of you when he looks in the mirror and see's your mark. He doesn't stop you. He gives a deep throaty groan of appreciation that reverberates from your lips all the way along your body.

When you're finished Negan's thumb brushes the deep red mark and he smiles, wordlessly, his eyes locking with yours. He begins peeling off his gloves with tantalising care, throwing them on the ping pong table so his fingertips can feel your skin. You anticipate the moment with your breath held tight until his thumbs brush your nipples and you whimper.

You press your hand against his zipper and he thrusts his hips against you so you can feel his length desperate to escape for your touch. He doesn't kiss you, or pleasure you, the touch at your breasts is all for him. It's your surrender on his terms. He steps back, giving you room to do exactly what he's told you.

You sink to your knees never taking your eyes off his as you unbuckle his belt, slide down his zip and ease his cock from his jeans. He sucks in a breath, the look in his eyes urging you to continue. Begging you to continue. You lick your lips, brace his ass with your hands and smile before you let your mouth fall open, relaxing your jaw and easing your lips around the head for one torturous suck.

It makes him crazy, you can feel the tension in his body, his desperation for more, his desire to fill your mouth with his cock and take exactly what he wants. But he doesn't, he let's you have control and you like to play. You like to give him slow teasing licks that run base to tip. You like delicate feather light kisses that have him melting and pleading, "more, fuck baby, I need more."

You might be on your knees but Negan is at your mercy. Your fingers creep into your jeans desperate to relieve the pressure that's throbbing more intense with every groan of pleasure or encouragement that croons from his lips.

"Naughty girl," he pulls your hair hard, tilting your head to face him, "nobody touches that pussy until I fucking decide."

You half laugh, reluctantly removing your hand, "yes sir."

His lips curve into a smile, the grip on your hair loosening but not releasing as he guides you to his cock forcefully, but not forcing. You take him in deep, as deep as you can manage and he growls, "fuck."

His hips pump a rhythm, fucking your mouth like he wants to punish you for daring to touch yourself when you should have been touching only him. Negan doesn't usually finish like this but this time you know it's different. You know he's getting closer and closer, his breathing is more ragged, his rhythm becomes disjointed. He's looking you right in the eyes as he owns your mouth and you urge him to do it, squeezing his ass and sucking him hard. The sound Negan roars as his cum spurts down your throat is animalistic. His eyes glaze over and his hold on your hair tightens. You swallow it all, licking him clean as he breaths out the aftershocks of his release.

"That was part one of your surrender sweetheart," he steps away, zipping up his jeans, gone is the lust in his eyes now replaced by something more fiendish, "I'm gonna think about what I want for part two…" he pulls you to your feet, "until then," his finger plays with the button on your jeans, "no touching."