prompt; toxic reader that keeps coming back to spencer when she finds out he’s started dating someone new ‘cause she knows he can’t resist her.
cw; toxic! relationship, reader being a little shit, cheating, arguing, spencer being rough, talks of spanking and punishment, smidges of bdsm?, heavy kissing, make out session, poor max, inspired by s15ep06…
you’re smiling, as pretty as ever as spencer opens the door.
“what are you doing here?” you pout at his harsh tone, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.
“aw. so angry…” you tease him. “aren’t you gonna invite me in?”
“no.” you chuckle. “you can’t keep doing this, y/n. i’ve moved on.”
“have you now?” you step forwards, and him, backwards.
“yes, i’m with max now. so i need to ask you to leave.”
you step inside his apartment, completely ignoring him and looking around. nothing’s changed since the last time you were here. every book is on its place, every photo and picture still hands from its hooks on the walls. it smells like him. you love it.
“is this her?” you take a polaroid from the wall, showing it to him. when he doesn’t answer you hum. “she’s cute.”
“stop it.” he tries to take it from you, but instead you move away your hand quickly, keeping it.
“or what? you’re gonna punish me? you loved to do that.” he groans, but you know that the memories affect him. you smirk. “remember? my pretty ass all red with the imprint of your hand?” you purr.
“enough.”
you sigh. “so boring. that max girl has make you boring.”
“no she hasn’t, she’s the best thing that has happened to me.”
“and a liar.” you rectify yourself, and he almost rolls his eyes.
“what are you doing here?” he asks again, getting tired of these games.
“i want you back.” he closes his eyes, and sighs.
“you always do this… you can’t keep coming to my apartment every couple of months expecting to get me back, y/n, not when you were the one who broke up with me.”
“why not? i always get what i want.” you bite down on your lip, rising your free hand to caress his cheek, but he captured it before you could reach him.
“not this time.” his grip tightened and you moaned for him.
“that’s the spencer that i like. i bet miss little perfect is a vanilla in bed. don’t you miss it?” you step closer. “miss me?” he stares into your eyes.
“no.”
“so many lies. you seem to forget i too am a profiler, baby.”
“shut up. don’t call me that.”
“make me.” you whispered against his lips, smirking when you see the change in his eyes, on his body. you had won, again.
spencer was quick to let go of your hand and cup your face with his hands, pulling you in in a rough and heated kiss. you quickly corresponded. god, you’ve missed this.
his tongue pushed into your mouth with a groan. he was kissing you as if he were starved. as if he had been drowning and you were air.
“spencer, thanks for the flowers, you didn’t have-“ the door of his apartment opened, and spencer hurriedly pulled away from you, but it was too late, an astonished max had already seen the two of you kissing.
you smirk and wipe your lips with the back of your hand. “hi, max.”
she stares at the two of you, before letting go of the key —that you had told her would be under the doormat in the card of the flowers you’d sent her and in which you’d asked her to come to spencer’s apartment— and the flowers and turned around to walk out.
“max! wait!” spencer tried to go after her, but stood helpless at the door frame. it was too late. he turned to look at you and you smiled.