Tactical Error — Armin Arlert, Attack On Titan
Summary: You and Armin, the best strategists of the survey corps, are assigned to work together as a team. When it doesnt work due to the dislike you have towards each other Hange send you on a date to work things out.
Tags: porn with plot, work rivalry, enemies to lovers, kinda sub Armin, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie
a/n: not properly proofread
When Arlert and you started working together, you thought it wouldn't be that bad. You had heard things, that he‘s rude and not a good team-player, but you wouldn't let that influence your opinion on him.
The thing is, it is true. He is rude and he is a terrible team-player. Hange was convinced you‘d make the perfect team. The two best strategists in the survey corps. It sounded good on paper but reality was always different.
At first you tried, you really tried to make it work. You met him and successfully pushed the rumors to the back of your head. He had greeted you and shook your hand but that was really it. Every attempt at small talk to lose that awkwardness was blocked by him.
Your job was to design a plan for a mission and you thought it went okay. When you made a suggestion he just hummed but at least acknowledged what you said. You gave him maps with formations to think about; he even said one or two sentences back to you about them. In the end it was a good plan and you two kinda worked together.
But then when the day came to present the plan to the officials, you didn't recognize anything. It was a completely different plan. You acted like nothing was wrong and let him present it. The officials liked it. Hell you liked it. It was a great plan, but you were supposed to make it together.
When you confronted him later that day he first acted like he didn't even know what you were talking about. And then he had nonchalantly said „Oh yeah, I just reworked the bits that needed refining, fixed it.“
“‘Reworked the bits that needed refining‘? Arlert, that was a whole different plan, I recognized nothing of what I did.“ you had answered and you still know exactly what he had said and exactly how he had said it. In that disgusting self-assured tone, like it was obvious: „Yeah, as I said. I reworked the bits that were lacking. Not my fault everything you suggested needed that.“
“But you seemed to be fine with it when I suggested them?“
“Honestly I just wanted you to stop talking.“
At that point you turned around and walked out the door straight to Hange‘s office. You were just wasting your potential with that stubborn dog. But Hange was convinced you two could be great together.
So for the next plan, they organized someone to assure you would actually work together this time. He was just always there, in the corner, watching both of you.
And it actually worked. Arlert cooperated better and the plan you worked out was fantastic. Perfect. No holes. The death rate was reduced by 10%. And that was all the reassurance Hange needed.
You kept working together but Arlert shut off again. And you got stubborn too. Every time you two talked insults dressed as feedback bounced back and forth between you. The plans you were working out were good but not as good as they could be.
Today is the day of presentation for another plan you worked out. You had changed a few things after he had left the office yesterday but you‘re doing the presentation, so he can‘t say anything. Again the officials are thrilled—in contrast to Arlert.
In the middle of presenting he speaks up. “Thats not how we discussed it.“ You looked at him like he was crazy.
“No we did Arlert, don‘t you remember?“
Hange knows instantly how this is going to end. So they call both your names before things escalate. “Can I talk to you both outside for a minute?“
“So what‘s going on here?“ They sternly ask, looking first at you then at him.
“She just changed the plan!“
Hange looks at you again. „Is that true?“
“You know what? I don't care.“ They laughs fakely. “Look. I know what you can do if you actually work together. But I can't give you a babysitter forever just because both of you are too childish and stubborn to talk to each other."
You feel the urge to protest. “Not me! Him!“
“I don't wanna hear it. It‘s both of you.“ They sigh frustrated and lean against the door, clearly thinking about what to do. “Oh my god, you both drive me insane!“ They sound almost angry. “Listen to me. You‘re gonna go in there right now, present like nothing is wrong and then you‘re gonna come to my office.“
And again you do as Hange says, you go inside, finish and go to their office. But instead of the angry Hange you expected you find them happy. They almost look villainous with the grin on their face. Like they‘re plotting something.
“Hello.“ They laugh maniacly, rubbing their hands. “I've been expecting you two.“ They look at you and Arlert. “Okay jokes aside, you both know why you‘re here.I’m going to say something radical,” Hange folds their hands in front of their mouth, wild eyes glinting behind fogged glasses. “I like conflict.”
You blink. Arlert looks suspiciously. “But this,” Hange continues, pointing dramatically between the two of you, “this isn’t conflict. This is a slow-motion trainwreck made of pettiness and pride. You’re both brilliant. But you’re also both acting like stubborn brats with superiority complexes.”
You open your mouth to argue. They raise a finger. “Ah ah—don’t. I’m not here to play referee. I’m here to fix it.”
You raise a brow. “You’re sending us on separate teams?”
Arlert looks worried. “You’re… taking us off the strategy unit?”
“Nope again.” The grin widens. “I’m sending you on a date.”
You stare at them. You don‘t dare look at him. “What?“
“A nice dinner. Together, off base, civilian clothes, no work. You’ll go to Eiche Tavern, sit across from each other like functional people. You will eat. You will talk. You will maybe even laugh. Bond, as the kids say.”
“This is absurd,” you snap. “I’m not—”
Hange claps their hands together, voice suddenly sharp. “It’s not optional. Reservation is already made for 8.”
Arlert glances at you. “Can I bring my knife?”
“No, but she can,” Hange says, pointing at you with a cheerful wink. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t stab each other until dessert.”
You arrive at the tavern first, wearing a simple dark green dress that feels strange after months of uniform. Armin shows up five minutes later in a white button-down and dark trousers, looking annoyingly good. His eyes flick over you once and you go inside without a word.
You order a cheap stew, Arlert gets something overly complicated that he clearly hates, and for a full ten minutes, the table is nothing but awkward stolen glances. The waiter keeps giving you pitying looks.
Finally, you say, “This is a disaster.”
He sighs. “We agree on something. Incredible.”
You snort. “I’m shocked your ego allowed you to say that.”
“You assume I like being right all the time. It’s exhausting.”
You pause. “You’re serious?”
The appetizers come. You quickly thank the waiter, then turn back to him.
You want to say something, to just shut him up already but you don‘t. Instead you focus on the appetizers. Bread with lard. As you grab a piece of bread, ready to smear lard on it, Arlert does it before you. You then decide to just eat the bread.
“What, you're not gonna eat from it because I did?” He scoffs, then murmurs, "Childish."
Until your food comes it is silent again. You stab a piece of potato a little harder than necessary.
“You realize,” you mutter, “if we get ambushed because of this forced therapy dinner, I’m blaming you. And Hange. But mostly you.”
Arlert takes a slow sip of his drink. “Right. Because clearly, dinner is more dangerous than the battlefield.”
“With you here? Absolutely.”
He gives you a look that is a mix of exhaustion and amusement. “You’ve been looking for a fight since we sat down.”
“No, I’ve been in a fight since I was assigned to breathe the same air as you.”
He sets his fork down, leans forward. “Do you actually hate me, or are you just addicted to the drama?”
Arlert raises a brow. “You heard me.”
“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “I just didn’t realize you were this full of yourself.”
“I’m full of logic, which you mistake for arrogance because you can’t handle someone not bowing to your precious gut instinct.”
You lean across the table, voice low and sharp. “And you can’t handle someone who challenges your careful, cold little calculations.”
His mouth tightens, but his eyes dont flinch. “You think I want to be cold? You think I enjoy making the kind of decisions that keep me up at night? I calculate because someone has to. You rush in and hope it works. I make sure it does.”
“You really believe I don’t care,” you say, quieter now, not out of softness, but out of fury. “You think because I don’t spend hours buried in maps that I don’t lie awake replaying every mistake? That I don’t see the faces of everyone we’ve lost?”
His voice drops, low and weighted. “I know you do. I just think you hide behind anger because if you stopped to feel anything else, it might destroy you.”
The silence stretches between you, heavy with unsaid things.
The waiter passes by and leaves a slice of berry pie at the table—something Arlert had ordered on impulse. You stare at it like it has personally offended you.
“I hate sweet things,” you say.
“Oh, I can tell, look at you.” He doesn't even look up, just grabs a fork ready to enjoy it.
“What's that supposed to mean?” You snap at him.
“Just that you're annoying.” he says. “Anyways, I didn’t order it for you.” He shoves another forkful of food into his mouth. The silence between you stretches again, thick and uncomfortable.
“You know what your problem is?” you say suddenly, voice sharp.
Arlert rolls his eyes. “Here we go.”
“You think compassion makes you superior. You look down on anyone who doesn’t play the game as cleanly as you do. Like those of us who fight dirty are just… lesser.”
“You don’t have to. It’s in every condescending little hum you give when I suggest something.”
Arlert sets his fork down, eyes darkening. “And you think being abrasive makes you strong. You push and provoke because you’re terrified of anyone getting close enough to see the cracks. That’s not strength.”
You clench your jaw. “Don’t pretend you know me.”
“I see you clearer than you think,” he says quietly, too fast. “And maybe that’s why we can’t stand each other.”
The words hit harder than they should. You stand abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor. Heads turn. You don’t care.
You toss crumpled bills onto the table. “Have a good night, Arlert.”
You storm out before he can respond.
The walk back to the barracks is fast and furious, boots striking the cobblestones. Five minutes after you slam your door shut, a knock echoes through the room.
You yank it open, already scowling.
Arlert stands there, slightly out of breath, hair windblown. He’s holding the money you left plus the receipt.
“I paid for dinner,” he says curtly, stepping inside before you can stop him. “I wasn’t going to let you run off and play martyr while covering the whole bill.”
“You’re not exactly subtle when you’re stomping away like a storm cloud.”
You cross your arms tightly. “Why are you here, Arlert?”
“Because I’m tired of this,” he says, shutting the door behind him. His voice is low, strained. “I’m tired of every interaction turning into a battlefield. I don’t even know why we’re still doing this anymore.”
“Bullshit.” The rare curse makes you pause. “We’ve been at each other’s throats since day one, and I’m done pretending I don’t feel something underneath all this hate.”
Your throat burns. Defense mechanisms snap into place.
“Get out,” you say coldly.
“I mean it, Arlert. Get out before I say something I can’t take back.”
You reach for the door, but he slams it shut with his palm, stepping closer. The proximity makes your pulse spike.
“Oh my God, just leave!” The words burst out before you can stop them. “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much—” just then you realize what you said. You stare at him in a mix of shock and guilt and he just stares back.
Until his mouth crashes into yours.
It’s not soft. It’s months of frustration, rivalry, and buried attraction exploding at once. You kiss him back just as fiercely, teeth clashing, hands fisting in his shirt. He backs you against the wall with a heavy thud, fingers threading into your hair as he tilts your head and deepens the kiss. You yank his jacket down his shoulders, desperate to feel more of him.
You break apart just enough to breathe.
“You’re infuriating,” you pant against his lips.
“So are you,” he whispers back, voice rough but still unmistakably him — that gentle undertone bleeding through even now. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Even when I’m angry. Especially when I’m angry.”
You shove him toward the bed. He stumbles back and sits on the edge, eyes wide and dark with want. You climb onto his lap, straddling him. „God I fucking hate you.“
“Then stop kissing me like that.“ He smirks and you kiss him again. This time it’s slower but no less desperate. His hands settle on your waist, gripping tightly like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
Clothes come off in a messy rush. His shirt. Yours. His belt. Your pants. Somewhere in the chaos, a chair gets knocked over. Neither of you cares.
The moment your bare skin meets his, he lets out a soft, stunned sound and presses his face against your collarbone, lips brushing your skin.
“God…” he breathes, voice trembling with disbelief. “I’ve thought about this more than I should.”
You rock your hips against him, grinding down on the bulge in his pants. Armin’s breath hitches sharply. His hands slide up your back, warm and a little hesitant, like he’s still afraid this might end any second.
Clothes continue coming off in a frantic, clumsy rush. You push him flat onto the bed and strip the rest of the way, then help him shove his pants and underwear down. When his cock springs free — flushed, hard, and already leaking at the tip — you wrap your hand around him and stroke slowly.
Armin’s head falls back against the mattress with a groan. “Fuck…that feels so good.”
You keep stroking him as you lean down to kiss him again, slower this time. His hips twitch up into your fist, chasing the pleasure with quiet, needy sounds. When you finally position yourself over him and sink down, taking him inch by inch, the moan he lets out is broken and beautiful.
You both stay still once he’s fully inside you, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other in.
“You’re so tight…” he whispers, voice wrecked. His hands tremble on your thighs. “I don’t know how long I’m going to last.”
“Then don’t hold back,” you murmur, starting to move.
You ride him with deep, rolling movements, savoring the stretch and the way he fills you perfectly. Armin meets every roll of your hips with eager upward thrusts, hands gripping your waist to help guide you. His eyes stay locked on your face the entire time, wide and reverent, like he’s memorizing every expression you make.
“Beautiful,” he breathes, almost to himself. “You’re so beautiful like this.”
The praise makes heat flare in your stomach. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest, and ride him harder. The new angle makes him hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. Your moans grow louder, mixing with his soft, breathy whimpers.
Armin’s hands roam everywhere. Sliding up your stomach, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you shudder. He sits up suddenly, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush against his chest so he can kiss you again. The position changes everything. He’s deeper now, and you can feel every desperate roll of his hips as he thrusts up into you.
“I can’t— I’ve wanted you for so long,” he pants against your mouth between kisses. “Every time we fought… all I could think about was this.”
You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, making him moan. His pace starts to falter, growing erratic and needy. You can feel the tension coiling tighter in your belly, pleasure building fast.
Armin buries his face in your neck, lips and teeth grazing your skin. “Please— I’m so close. I want to feel you cum first.”
You reach between your bodies and rub tight circles while continuing to ride him. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge quickly. Your orgasm crashes through you hard, walls clenching rhythmically around him as pleasure floods every nerve. You moan his name, thighs shaking, nails digging into his shoulders.
The feeling of you coming around him breaks Armin completely.
“Oh— fuck—” His voice cracks. His hips stutter up into you a few more times before he buries himself deep and cums with a long, shuddering moan. You feel every pulse as he spills inside you, arms wrapped tightly around your body like he never wants to let go.
You stay like that for a long time—collapsed against his chest, his arms around you, both of you breathing hard. His heart is hammering against your cheek. After a while, his fingers start tracing slow, soothing patterns up and down your back, gentle and almost shy again now that the intensity has passed.
You let out a tired, breathless laugh. “Yeah. Can‘t wait to tell everyone what sounds you make in bed.”
“Don‘t you dare. You‘re not gonna tell anyone about this.“
A surprisingly comfortable silence settles in.
“You think Hange made someone sit in the tavern and watch us?“ you say.
Armin laughs quietly. “Yeah probably.“
I feel like this needs a part 2 😼
If you liked this, you may like my other stuff too!
