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elryuse · 10 hours ago

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LOVE TO HATE ME pt.1

WINTER X MALE READER X GISELLE

Tags : Break Up, Seduction, Love Triangle, Deep Romance, SMUT, Kissing, Cheating?

Words : 3,999 Words

This Is A Commision Work For My Friend @Pizza_anon on Ko-fi. This will be a 5 Part Series. So yeah, Hope you liked it buddy.

The whiskey burned, a welcome fire against the icy ache in your chest. You needed to numb the pain, to drown out the echoes of her voice, the ghost of her smile. You needed to forget.

Winter. The name itself tasted like ashes in your mouth. A love story that had once painted your world in shades of rose, now reduced to a smudged watercolor, bleeding into a melancholic gray.

"My studies are my priority right now," she'd said, her voice a fragile whisper, "I can't afford distractions." Distractions. You, with your messy hair, your impulsive laughter, your tendency to get lost in daydreams instead of focusing on your future. You were a distraction, a delightful, messy, all-consuming distraction.

Now, the silence in your apartment screamed with her absence. Every corner whispered her name, every shadow cast her ghost. The worn-out movie tickets, the half-finished painting of her eyes, the scent of her favorite perfume still lingering in the air – all mocking reminders of a love that had slipped through your numb fingers.

You poured another generous measure of whiskey, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. The amber liquid swirled, mirroring the turmoil within you. You were drowning, gasping for air in a sea of grief, the waves crashing over you relentlessly.

Then, there was Giselle.

Giselle, with eyes the color of a stormy sea, her laughter like the chime of wind chimes, and a kindness that always made you feel seen, even when you were lost in your own despair. Giselle, Winter's best friend, who had always been there, a comforting presence in the periphery of your relationship.

Giselle, who had been your confidante, your shoulder to cry on during countless teenage dramas, your partner in crime in countless midnight adventures. Giselle, who had always held a special place in your heart, a place you never quite acknowledged until now.

You remembered the day you first met Winter. It was at a college party, a cacophony of noise and laughter. Winter, radiant in a burst of color, had been surrounded by a group of friends, her laughter infectious. You, captivated by her vibrant energy, had been drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Giselle, ever the observant one, had introduced you, her smile a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Winter," she'd said, "This is Y/n. He's been eyeing you all night."

Winter, blushing, had extended a hand, her touch surprisingly warm. "Hi, Y/n," she'd said, her voice a melodic chime. "It's nice to meet you."

And that was it. The beginning of a whirlwind romance, a love story that had consumed your every waking moment. But now, the whirlwind had subsided, leaving behind a trail of wreckage and a heart aching with a profound sense of loss.

Giselle had been there through it all. She'd listened patiently as you recounted every detail of your blossoming relationship, her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness for you. She'd offered advice, both solicited and unsolicited, always with a gentle hand and a reassuring smile.

She'd been your refuge during the inevitable arguments, the silent listener as you vented your frustrations, the one who always knew how to coax a smile back onto your face.

And now, she was your anchor, a lifeline in the stormy seas of your grief.

"Come on," she'd said, her voice soft, "Let's get some air. This place is suffocating you."

And so, you'd stumbled out into the night, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors through your alcohol-glazed vision. Giselle had listened patiently as you poured out your grief, her silence a comforting blanket against the storm raging inside you. She had offered you her shoulder to cry on, her apartment a refuge from the loneliness that was threatening to consume you whole.

You, drowning in your misery, had clung to her like a lifeline.

The days that followed were a haze of blurry memories. Days spent in a melancholic stupor, punctuated by stolen moments of solace in Giselle's company. You'd spend hours talking, dissecting your relationship with Winter, analyzing every nuance, every missed opportunity, every "what if."

Giselle, ever insightful, would offer her perspective, her words a balm to your wounded soul. "You loved her deeply, Y/n," she'd said, her voice laced with a sadness that mirrored your own, "But sometimes, love isn't enough."

Her words, though laced with a poignant truth, only served to deepen the ache in your chest.

One evening, while curled up on her couch, a worn-out movie playing silently in the background, you felt a shift in the dynamic between you. A subtle change in the air, a unspoken current running beneath the surface of your friendship.

Giselle, sitting beside you, her gaze fixed on the flickering screen, reached out and gently placed her hand over yours. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through you, a shiver down your spine. You turned to look at her, your breath catching in your throat.

Her eyes, usually bright and mischievous, were now pools of darkness, mirroring the storm brewing within you. A storm that had been brewing for a long time, you realized with a sudden jolt of awareness.

You'd always been drawn to Giselle, her vibrant personality a stark contrast to your own introspective nature. You'd admired her strength, her independence, her unwavering loyalty. You'd been captivated by her wit, her infectious laughter, her ability to find beauty in the most unexpected places.

But you'd always kept your feelings at bay, afraid to jeopardize their precious friendship. Afraid of the potential for heartbreak, afraid of losing her altogether.

Now, those carefully constructed walls were crumbling, crumbling under the weight of your shared grief, under the weight of unspoken desires.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispered, her voice husky, her gaze finally meeting yours. "Ever since…"

You didn't need her to finish the sentence. You knew. You'd always known, on some subconscious level, that there was a simmering intensity beneath her gentle facade, a fire that had been waiting to ignite.

The words hung heavy in the air, unspoken yet deeply understood. The unspoken confession, the years of unspoken longing, finally finding voice.

And then, all pretense was gone.

The movie faded into the background, the flickering images replaced by a dizzying kaleidoscope of emotions.

Their lips met, a tentative brush at first, then a desperate hunger taking over. Giselle tasted of wine and regret, of unspoken desires and a shared grief.

The kiss was a whirlwind, a collision of broken hearts, a desperate search for solace in the arms of another. It was a whirlwind of passion and desperation, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by Winter's absence.

They explored each other with a fierce intensity, their bodies moving in a desperate dance of need and longing. Giselle's hands traced the contours of your face, her fingers tangling in your hair, her moans a low, primal sound.

You lost yourself in the moment, the world fading away, leaving only the raw, primal sensation of her body beneath yours.

But as you lay beside her afterwards, the silence that followed was deafening. The weight of your actions, the betrayal that gnawed at you, the lingering ghost of Winter, all threatened to suffocate you.

You had found comfort in Giselle's arms, but at what cost?

The answer, you realized with a chilling clarity, was a price you might never be able to pay.

The guilt weighed heavily on you, a constant, suffocating presence. You were consumed by a sense of betrayal, not only to Winter, but to Giselle as well. You had used her, exploited her vulnerability, sought solace in her arms while still carrying the weight of your lost love.

You tried to push the guilt aside, to focus on the fleeting moments of pleasure, the comfort of her presence, the warmth of her skin against yours. But the guilt remained, a persistent shadow that followed you everywhere.

The days that followed were a tortured existence. You avoided Giselle, your guilt making it impossible to look her in the eye. You were haunted by the memory of her touch, the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes had lit up when she looked at you.

You were trapped in a cycle of self-recrimination, unable to escape the weight of your own guilt. You had hurt Winter, you had betrayed Giselle, and you had betrayed yourself.

One evening, weeks after that fateful night, you found yourself standing outside Giselle's apartment, your hand hovering over the doorbell.

You had spent the entire day battling with yourself, wrestling with your demons. You needed to talk to her, to apologize, to explain.

But as you stood there, the weight of your guilt pressing down on you, you were unsure of what to say, unsure of how she would react.

You had hurt her, deeply, irrevocably. And you were terrified of losing her altogether.

You took a deep breath, the cold night air filling your lungs. What were you doing?

This was a disaster waiting to happen.

But the need to see her, to hear her voice, to apologize, was overwhelming.

Taking a shaky breath, you reached for the doorbell.

The doorbell echoed through the quiet apartment, its chime cutting through the thick silence that had settled over you like a heavy blanket. Your heart was pounding in your chest, each beat a deafening reminder of the storm raging inside you. The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions.

And then, the door swung open.

Giselle stood there, her figure silhouetted against the soft glow of the apartment lights. She was wearing something you hadn’t expected—sexy black lacy lingerie that hugged her curves in all the right places. The sight of her hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed, and her lips curved into a knowing smile that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice low and sultry, like the purr of a cat. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

You froze, your mind scrambling to process the scene before you. What was happening? This wasn’t the Giselle you knew—or maybe it was, but a version of her you’d never allowed yourself to imagine. Her eyes, dark and full of mischief, locked onto yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away.

She giggled, a soft, melodic sound that danced in the air between you. Then, without a word, she reached out, her fingers curling around the front of your shirt, and pulled you inside. The door clicked shut behind you, sealing you in the warm, dimly lit space that smelled faintly of her perfume.

“Giselle,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, placing a finger over your lips. Her touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat through your body. “No more talking. Not tonight.”

You could feel the tension between you, a palpable force that seemed to crackle in the air. Her hand moved from your lips to your chest, her fingers trailing down the front of your shirt, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You could feel your heartbeat quickening, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” she whispered, her voice dripping with desire. “Waiting for you.”

Her words sent a surge of heat through you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering just beneath the surface. You reached for her, your hands trembling as they found her waist, pulling her closer until her body was pressed against yours. She let out a soft moan, her hands tangling in your hair as she kissed you with a hunger that matched your own.

The kiss was intoxicating, a whirlwind of passion and need that left you dizzy and craving more. Her lips were soft and insistent, her tongue teasing yours in a way that made your head spin. You could feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of her lingerie, the way her curves molded against you, driving you wild.

She pulled back slightly, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire. “Do you want this, Y/n?” she asked, her voice trembling with anticipation. “Do you want me?”

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the storm of emotions raging inside you. Yes, you wanted her. You wanted her more than you’d ever wanted anyone. The guilt, the pain, the grief—it all faded into the background, replaced by the overwhelming need to be close to her, to lose yourself in her.

She smiled, a slow, seductive smile that made your heart race. “Then take me,” she whispered, her voice a sultry promise.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your hands moved of their own accord, trailing down her body, exploring every inch of her. She gasped as your fingers found the hem of her lingerie, her breath hitching as you slowly slid it down her legs, leaving her bare before you.

She was breathtaking, her body a perfect blend of soft curves and delicate lines. You could feel the heat radiating from her, the way her skin trembled under your touch. You leaned in, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat, then lower, tracing a path down her chest, her stomach, until you reached the apex of her thighs.

She moaned, her hands clenching in your hair as you teased her, your tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh. She was slick with desire, her body trembling with need as you worked her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

“Y/n,” she gasped, her voice a desperate plea. “Please…”

You didn’t need to hear the rest. You knew what she wanted, and you were more than willing to give it to her. You straightened, your hands gripping her hips as you positioned yourself at her entrance. Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in shallow gasps as you pushed into her, slowly, inch by inch, until you were completely sheathed inside her.

She moaned, a low, primal sound that sent a shiver down your spine as she wrapped her legs around your waist, pulling you closer. You began to move, your thrusts slow and deliberate, each one drawing a gasp or a moan from her lips. Her hands clung to you, her nails digging into your back as she urged you on, her hips meeting yours with each thrust.

The room was filled with the sounds of your passion, the soft slap of skin against skin, the ragged gasps and moans that spilled from both of your lips. You could feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

And then, just as you felt yourself on the brink of release, the doorbell rang.

You froze, your body stiffening as the sound echoed through the apartment. Giselle’s eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up at you, a mixture of surprise and anticipation in her gaze.

“Who—” she started, but before she could finish, the door swung open.

Winter stood in the doorway, her hair slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed. She looked… different. The usual prim and proper Winter was gone, replaced by a version of her you’d never seen before. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips curved into a seductive smile as she stepped inside, her gaze locking onto yours.

“Looks like I’m just in time,” she purred, her voice low and sultry, sending a shiver down your spine.

The door clicked shut, cutting off the sight of Winter's retreating figure. Giselle leaned against it for a moment, her chest rising and falling as though she’d just run a marathon. She glanced back at you, her stormy eyes wide with a mix of panic and something else—something darker, more primal.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, running a hand through her tousled hair. “That was… close.”

You were still frozen in place, your heart hammering so loudly you were sure Giselle could hear it. The air in the room felt electric, charged with the near-miss and the lingering heat of what had almost happened between the two of you. Your mind raced, flashes of Winter’s flushed face and sultry smile mingling with the memory of Giselle’s lips on yours, her hands gripping your shoulders like she never wanted to let go.

Giselle pushed herself off the door and crossed the room toward you, her movements slow but deliberate. The black lace of her lingerie clung to her curves, the delicate fabric doing little to hide the way her body trembled slightly. She stopped just inches away, her gaze locked on yours.

“Y/n,” she said softly, her voice trembling despite her attempt to steady it. “Are you okay?”

You couldn’t speak. You weren’t even sure if you were breathing. All you could think about was how close you’d been to crossing a line you hadn’t even realized was there until tonight. And now, standing here with Giselle, her scent filling your lungs, her presence overwhelming every rational thought, you wondered if you’d already crossed it.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing against her arm. Her skin was warm, alive, and the contact sent a jolt through you that made your knees weak.

Giselle inhaled sharply, her eyes darting down to where your hand rested on her. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, with a soft exhale, she stepped closer, closing the distance between you until her body was pressed against yours.

“We shouldn’t…” she murmured, but the way her hands slid up your chest contradicted her words. Her touch was hesitant at first, but then she gripped the front of your shirt, pulling you closer still. “But I… I don’t care right now.”

Her lips found yours again, hungry and desperate, and whatever restraint you’d been clinging to shattered. You kissed her back with equal fervor, your hands sliding down her back to grip her hips, pulling her flush against you. The taste of her was intoxicating, a heady mix of wine and something uniquely her, and you couldn’t get enough.

Giselle moaned softly against your mouth, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss. Her body arched into yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her lingerie. Every nerve in your body was on fire, every thought consumed by her—the feel of her, the sound of her, the way she moved with you like this was where she’d always belonged.

But then, reality came crashing back in.

The image of Winter standing in the doorway flashed in your mind, her dark eyes filled with a heat that mirrored the one burning inside you now. Guilt twisted in your gut, sharp and unrelenting, and you pulled away from Giselle with a ragged breath.

“Wait,” you said, your voice hoarse. “We can’t… Winter…”

Giselle froze, her expression flickering with something you couldn’t quite place—hurt? Regret? Anger? Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a mask of calm that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Winter doesn’t have to know,” she said quietly, her hands still resting on your chest. “This… this is just us. Just you and me. We don’t owe her anything.”

You stared at her, trying to reconcile her words with the storm raging inside you. Did you owe Winter anything? She’d ended things with you, walked away without a second glance. But Giselle… Giselle had always been there, a constant presence in your life, a source of comfort and strength when everything else fell apart.

And yet…

“Giselle,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know if I can do this. Not like this.”

She studied you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours as though looking for something—truth, maybe, or clarity. Finally, she sighed and took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield her body from the cold air that suddenly seemed to fill the room.

“Okay,” she said softly. “If that’s what you want.”

But the way she looked at you, the way her voice trembled ever so slightly, told you it wasn’t what she wanted. And deep down, you weren’t sure it was what you wanted either.

Before either of you could say another word, there was a soft knock at the door. Both of you froze, your eyes darting to the entrance as though expecting Winter to burst in again. But when no one entered, Giselle exhaled shakily and turned toward the door.

“Who is it?” she called, her voice steadier than you expected.

There was a pause, and then a familiar voice replied, “It’s me. Can we talk?”

Your stomach dropped. It was Winter.

Giselle shot you a panicked look, her eyes wide with disbelief. “What the hell…?” she muttered under her breath. She hesitated for a moment, then squared her shoulders and opened the door just enough to peek out.

Winter stood on the other side, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable. She glanced past Giselle, her gaze landing on you for a brief moment before returning to her friend.

“What’s wrong?” Giselle asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Winter hesitated, her lips pressing together in a thin line. “I…I need to talk to someone. Can I come in?”

Giselle shook her head almost imperceptibly, her hand tightening on the edge of the door. “Now’s not a good time,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “I’m… busy.”

Winter’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned forward, trying to peer past Giselle. “Busy with what?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

Giselle shifted to block her view, her jaw tightening. “Just… something personal,” she said vaguely. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

For a moment, Winter just stared at her, her expression torn between frustration and hurt. Then, she sighed and nodded, stepping back from the door. “Fine,” she said, her voice tinged with resignation. “But we need to talk, Giselle. Soon.”

Giselle nodded, her fingers tightening on the doorknob. “I know,” she said softly. “I promise.”

Winter lingered for a moment longer, her gaze flickering to you again before she finally turned and walked away. Giselle closed the door slowly, leaning against it with a shaky breath. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy, until Giselle finally broke it.

“Well,” she said, her voice trembling with nervous laughter, “that was… unexpected.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed too, the sound strained but genuine. “Understatement of the year,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

But as the laughter faded, the weight of what had just happened settled over you once more. Winter knew. Or at least, she suspected something. And now, you were left wondering what would happen next.

Giselle watched you carefully, her stormy eyes full of questions you weren’t sure how to answer. “Y/n,” she began hesitantly, “what do you want to do?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. What did you want to do? Part of you wanted to run, to leave this tangled mess behind and pretend none of it had ever happened. But another part—a deeper, hungrier part—wanted to pull Giselle back into your arms and lose yourself in her again, consequences be damned.

Before you could decide, Giselle took a step closer, her fingers brushing against your hand. “Whatever happens,” she said softly, “I’m here. Okay?”

You nodded, your throat tight with emotion. But the question remained: what were you going to do?

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