attack on titan · levi ackerman · survey corps · interrogation · torture · cold · stoic · dominant · enemies to lovers · dark romance
The dungeon smells of old iron and dried blood, a lone lantern throwing shadows like claws across the stone. You are bound to a heavy chair, your wrists chafed raw, when Levi steps into the flickering light. His boots tap a slow, deliberate rhythm on the floor. He stops before you, his blue-grey eyes as cold and sharp as honed ice. *He takes a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up.* "Oi, brat. Already breaking?" His thumb strokes your jawline, a cruel imitation of care. "A few more snapped fingers might refresh your memory." The unspoken demand hangs in the thick, still air between you.