Kinktober 2024

【 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑜𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑜𝑓 】

〖 𝑇𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑒 〗: 𝑅𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑠

〖 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠 〗: Peeta Mellark may have fooled the Capitol people, but he wasn't fooling you. Let the games begin...

〖 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 〗: nsfw 18+, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, mean!Peeta, hate fucking, spanking, pull-out method, semi-public sex

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The viciousness of the Games lasted longer after you left the arena. It felt like you were being thrown from one stage to another. Every move, every breath, and every impression was monitored and judged by the people of the Capitol.

Every year when the Games rolled around, you were thrown into the arena all over again but instead of fighting for your survival, you were fighting for the survival of another. You were fighting the arena of public opinion, and losing wasn't an option.

You walked through the ornate halls of the mansion of one of the more influential cabinet members. As you made your way through the mansion, you exchanged pleasantries with various dignitaries and guests. Your cheeks ached as you plastered on a fake smile.

Finally, you made your way to the ballroom. It was lavish, filled with brightly colored outfits, too much food, and the lingering threat of your tribute's demise if you failed. You swirled your glass of champagne, watching as Peeta charmed Capitol elites with his perfect smile and kind heart that people couldn't seem to resist.

You weren't sure when this unspoken competition between you had started. You'd clawed your way into the hearts of the Capitol people, whereas he held their hearts in his gentle hands, nestling himself comfortably in their psyche. The thought of him grated against your skin, and he always seemed to find a way to undermine you without even trying.

You scanned the crowd for your next target. A slight smirk drifted across your features as you made your way through the crowd, finally spotting the perfect candidates for your flattery. You swept over to a group of Capitol elites and struck up a conversation with one of them— an older man with bright pink hair, extremely deep pockets, and an eye for promising tributes.

You caught Peeta's gaze, and a flash of recognition followed by irritation crossed his face. You gave him a wink.

You laughed at the wealthy man's jokes and rested a hand on his arm, just enough to make it seem more intimate than it was. You began to subtly plant the idea that your tribute was worth supporting.

As the night wore on, you slowly made your way outside, marveling at the garden before you. A sprawling hedge maze lay before you as you lean against the marble railing of one of the balconies. You took a moment to breathe, and the thought that this was all for nothing briefly crossed your mind.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" Peeta's voice rang from behind you as his footsteps neared.

You turned to face him, meeting his dark brown eyes with a lazy grin. You crossed your arms in front of you, "What's the matter, Mellark? Can't handle a bit of competition?"

"This isn't a game," he hissed between clenched teeth.

You took a step forward, "Of course, it's a game. The Games don't stop once they put that crown on your head, you of all people should know that."

"We're supposed to be helping these kids," he argued.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" you snapped, throwing your hands out to your side. "And you're one to talk," you continued, "charming sponsors and flashing that smile like you don't have an agenda."