#tickling hetalia

[coy-lee]

Mr. America's kryptonite

Texas has fallen from how much he's jumping around X3.

As much as the other countries think his laugh is obnoxious, it's my lifeblood. The sillier the better!

Him canonically loving the f-word was required for this piece, you understand right?

[comfytickles]

Ahm... well, this was an unexpected fandom. Probably a dead one but oh well.

I just wanna make him laugh hysterically ehehe...

Click for better quality!

[eclipsetickles]

"Not What You Think!" - (France x England)

Summary: At a world meeting, who decided to let France sit next to England?! That’s asking for trouble. They begin mutual competitive drinking to try and tolerate being near each other. The drawback? England never considered that drunk France is even more annoying than regular France. Go figure.

Word count: 2035

---

It was a rare bright sunny day in the normally dreary rainy city of London, the perfect day for the nations of the world to assemble and talk about current affairs. Everyone seemed in good spirits and was excited to get the meeting going, save for two very disgruntled nations.

“Bastard! Couldn’t you have chosen anywhere else to park your ass? The scent of your cologne is going to choke me out!” Arthur yelled, pointing accusingly at the Frenchman seated beside him who scowled in response to the statement.

“It is not my fault every other seat was taken! You are going to have to deal with it!” Francis crossed his arms defensively, clearly not very happy about the arrangement either. The two were rarely on the best of terms and tended to fight like cat and dog, both too stubborn to put aside their feelings and just cope with the rather small inconvenience of being 3 feet away from each other for the duration of their meeting. With a sigh, the French nation gingerly plucked his glass of wine from the table and elegantly (yet annoyedly) took a large sip, looking up towards the end to glare at Arthur, who in turn, followed his lead and drank from his brandy. Clearly, they would have to be a great deal more inebriated to tolerate being near the other.

“Well then, shall we begin?” Asked Antonio with a small smile and a bead of sweat dripping from his forehead, wishing desperately to get away from the tension that radiated from the other side of the room. Ludwig nodded, officially commencing the meeting.

The meeting seemed to be a success until about halfway through when another catfight broke out amongst England and France, seemingly triggered by differing opinions (and possibly a little too much alcohol).

“That’s it. You two! Out of here! We will pick up where we left off tomorrow.” Ludwig demanded, done with their shit. The Englishman spouted curses under his breath, immediately standing with a scoff and marching out of the room without another word. Francis did the same, tucking in his chair in an uncharacteristically clumsy way before spinning on his heel and taking off through the chestnut colored doors.

The narrow hallways resounded with the sound of Arthur’s continuing profanities, which led Francis right to him once more. Upon looking over his shoulder, Arthur noticed Francis looking a little more disheveled than his usual composed and carefully groomed self, and raised a thick eyebrow in confusion and mild concern. As angry as he was with the man, he didn’t want to see him getting lost in the massive English city trying to find his way back to his hotel. As annoying as Francis was, Arthur considered himself a gentleman and at the very least couldn’t in good faith just leave him.

“Oh? Checking me out, are you?” Francis winked, taking a step towards Arthur and posing as if he were a model. Yeah. He’s definitely pretty plastered. Arthur rolled his eyes and turned around, walking towards the exit.

“Damn fool… Come along now. My flat is just a few blocks away. You don’t look like you’re in too good a state to be running around by yourself, so I’m taking you back with me.” The Frenchman’s face lit up in an almost comically sparkly fashion, running towards Arthur and leaping onto his back, nearly taking him down in the process.

“ACK- Are you bloody serious?!” Arthur yelled, barely regaining his balance after the impact, but shook his head with a groan and grabbed hold of Francis’s legs, proceeding to hold him piggyback style as he took off into the outside world. This was WAY closer than he wanted to be to France today. It was funny to think that just 2 hours ago, he thought being seated by him was the worst possible scenario. Now he was stuck carrying a drunk 145 lb Frenchman back to his house. The irony was laughable. On the bright side, Francis wasn’t squirming too much as he tends to get quite cuddly after a few glasses of wine, and found a comfy spot with his arms wrapped around Arthur and his chin resting on Arthur’s shoulder. The physical affection would have been almost nice had Francis not been repeatedly attempting to nuzzle into Arthur’s neck and having his stubbly beard meeting the exposed skin there, driving Arthur near insane with the sensation.

“Get your frog face away from my neck! Your stupid beard is.. itchy. We’ll be there soon, so behave before I drop you on the ground and leave you behind.” Francis raised an eyebrow at this before smirking. Oh my, this could be fun.

“Oh really now? God forbid I make Angleterre itchy. My apologies. I shall be more careful.” He had the nerve to say before jumping at the opportunity to do it again, rubbing his cheek up and down the side of Arthur’s neck, making him squeak and scrunch his neck down to his shoulders, digging his nails into Francis’ legs.

“I SAID QUIT IT! Am I clear?!” Arthur fumed, gritting his teeth in embarrassment as he kept on walking, wishing he could drop the bratty Frenchman on the sidewalk like he had threatened.

“Itchy, huh?~ Mon dieu. That reaction seems just a step above itchy if you ask me. Dare I say, possibly even-”

“SHUT IT!” Arthur cut him off, his face getting red. He grabbed his keys from his left pocket, so flustered that he nearly grabbed the wrong one from the ring. France’s leg was also greatly impeding his ability to unlock the door, but he eventually managed, kicking it shut behind him and heading straight for the antique couch, dropping the Frenchman with a soft thud onto it. Little did Arthur notice, as he was about to turn around and head for the closet to take off his shoes, Francis had sneakily hooked a leg around him, and with a sweeping motion sent Arthur tumbling backwards straight into France’s arms. Arther didn’t have time to react other than notice a glimmer in Francis’ dark blue eyes and a mischievous smirk. That definitely meant danger.

After a few moments of wrestling, Francis ended up on top of Arthur, straddling his hips with that same smirk now turned into a much larger victorious grin. Arthur scanned his face for any clue as to why he was in this position only to pale completely once France raised his hands, curling them into claws.

“Listen old chap, can’t we talk about this? I mean surely you could use some rest and frankly so could I so if you could just let me up-” He rambled in an attempt to buy time, kicking his legs as soon as he saw France remove one of his black gloves with his teeth, wriggling his newly-freed fingers and hovered his hand just inches from Arthur’s midsection.

“You never let me finish my sentence earlier, Angleterre. That is suspicious, no?” Francis hummed contentedly, the teasing tone in his tone making Arthur squirm beneath him in protest. Damn… He had acted a little too nervous earlier, essentially revealing a terrible weakness to Francis. What a terrible outcome.

“So… could it be that you are perhaps… ticklish?” France drew out each and every word as if to add to the anticipation as he stared down at the Englishman who avoided any possible eye contact.

“It’s not what you think! I’m not.” Arthur spat back, crossing his arms over his midsection as if to defend himself, once again giving himself away. Man, he really wasn’t very good at pretending. Not that Francis minded. This would just be more fun this way.

“Not what?” Francis leaned in with a chuckle, relishing in the nervous energy coming from his oldest frenemy. England sealed his lips together as if refusing to answer, causing Francis to sit back up, clicking his tongue with a soft shake of his head, no real disappointment evident in his playful expression.

“Well then. If you won’t tell me, I will just have to find out for myself.” A devilish grin graced his handsome features as he went in for the kill, effortlessly grabbing Arthur’s hands and pinning them above his head with one hand, and beginning to prod at Arthur’s side with the other, satisfied as Arthur’s eyes went wide only to squeeze shut immediately, trying to ignore the feeling. There was no way he was going to give France even the smallest laugh.

That was until France changed tactics and started digging fingers into England’s tummy with a scratching motion, which broke the dam and sent the country into hysterics, filling the room of the flat with surprisingly cute bubbly laughter.

“Still not ticklish?” Francis teased, very pleased with himself at this discovery. He didn’t know how he hadn’t discovered this AGES ago. It would have been so easy to win any of their other fights by just skittering some finger’s along Arthur’s midsection. How fun.

“Nohot!! Cut it ouhohout! Shihit FRANCIS!!!” Arthur’s pleading fell on deaf ears. Francis knew he was going to get his ass kicked after this, so he may as well make it worth it and explore just a little bit. What fun was this if he stopped looking before he found England’s worst spot and made him eat his words?

“Too bad. Guess I just have to keep on tickling!” He laughed, having the most diabolical idea he could think of. Time was of the essence, so he would have to move quickly. Releasing England’s arms, his hands immediately shot to the Brit’s unguarded armpits, wreaking havoc in there. The noise that came out of Arthur was something between a shriek and a squeal, a noise that France had never heard coming from him before.

“Aww… Si chatouilleux. Adorable. But you still won’t admit it, right? That’s fine with me. The longer you lie to me, the more tickling you will receive, mon ami.” Arthur’s laughter increased at Francis’ words, mind racing between desperation to stubbornness. It was just too much, but he didn’t want France to win. Not this time. That said, he knew he would have to give in, or France may end up ticking him to death.

“PLEHEHEASE FRANCIS!!” He begged, squeezing his eyes shut again as the ticklish tingle covered his entire body, sending his brain into overdrive. He knew what he had to do, but could he even manage to say the words?

“Come on Angleterre… Arthuuur…” Francis knew it would happen any moment, and then he would be able to tease England about it forever. How fun. England kicked his legs fruitlessly, nearly knocking France off him with how much he was bucking underneath him.

“OKAHAHAY! IT TI- DAHAHAMMIT!! IHIT TIHIHCKLES!” Arthur whined. Francis took the hint and stopped his attack, admiring the nation beneath him, who was still shaking with small, cute giggles

“Alright mon ami, I’m done. I’ve heard what I needed to hear.” France grinned ear to ear, letting Arthur get up and compose himself. Arthur, who was still softly smiling, suddenly remembered he had a reputation to uphold and forced a glare at Francis.

“Ahem… Well, I see you've sobered up… I guess.” It was increasingly evident that Arthur wasn't actually mad at Francis at all, especially taking into account the rosy colored blush that spread across his face.

“Seems your smile was what I needed to recover!” Francis winked, reaching out to poke Arthur's tummy once more, eliciting another squeak from the ever serious man.

“Sure, maybe you think you won… but I'm wondering if perhaps you're also… er- you know. Ticklish.” Arthur muttered the last word, finally daring to gaze up to Francis to see his reaction. It seems like Francis wasn't prepared for this question, and with a nervous smile, he dashed off down the hallway towards Arthur's bedroom, locking the door.

“YOU BASTARD! GET BACK HERE! I'M SO GONNA GET YOU!” Considering he now had an excuse to wreck France as revenge, maybe that wasn't the most terrible experience he could have had. He would never admit it, but perhaps he would even think of it as… fun.

[theearthquaketrackingfox]

How long can you look at this before getting uncomfortable?

[peonycats]

Damn, I block a person for telling a friend kys over a hetalia ship and apparently I've blackpilled them against indchew now LOL

[sanchofff]

Can you do a story with lee Japan

Movie night(ler! America, lee!Japan )

A/N:Oh my god, hi everyone!!!I can't believe I finally finished this! I'm very sorry that this took SO long, school and studying for exams is killing me😭😭I apologize for my English, because it is not my native language. Enjoy reading, I will be glad to receive comments and likes!!

‼️this fanfiction contains tickles‼️

Word count:1304

"Alfred, don't bother me, please."

Not so long ago, America and Japan finally crossed the threshold of formal diplomatic relations and began to communicate much more closely than before. For Kiku, this was a little strange event to understand, since he often kept a low profile even with related countries, exclusively businesslike and avoiding physical contact; Alfred, on the contrary, is an intemperate person, almost hyperactive and very tactile, and his love has not bypassed Japan.

That is why now the brunette, simultaneously connecting the TV to the Internet, is trying in vain to push away the intrusive American, who wrapped his arms around Japan's neck and almost hung on to him.

"Kiku, let's watch something else! This is some kind of Japanese romance again, right? Let's watch horror instead!"

"Alfred, you and I agreed that we would choose films in turn," Japan said calmly, trying not to pay much attention to the American yelling in his ear."I fulfill the terms of our contract without question, and you refuse to fulfill your part."

"Kiku, please!"

"No, this is contrary to our agreement," continued the implacable Japan, finally unhooking Alfred's hands from his neck. By that time, America, who was sitting behind Japan, about half a meter away, and wrapped his arms around his neck, completely transferred almost all of his weight to the shoulders of the brunette. Therefore, not expecting such a betrayal from Kiku, Alfred let out a confused cry and flopped on the floor. It wasn't painful, as both states were sitting on the floor at that moment.

"Alfred, is everything okay?" Japan asked worriedly, worried that America could suffer because of his actions.

The blond man sighed dramatically and turned his head so that his words could be heard better.

And, wrapping his arms around Kiku's waist from his new position, he continued to rant as if nothing had happened.

He talked and talked about how he wanted to watch a horror movie, and how mean Kiku was if he couldn't fulfill his friend's wish. Japan hardly listened to him anymore, still trying to connect the ill-fated TV to the Internet, not understanding why the download was taking so long. Alfred, already realizing that his complaints were not being listened to, was indignant to the point of impossibility and decided that it was worth somehow attracting attention, so he began to pull the brunette on himself. Japan met this gesture without much enthusiasm, after a couple of seconds continuing to look at the TV screen, frowning.

"You're not listening to me at all!!" Alfred, in desperation, gently poked Japan in the side, so as not to cause pain, but only to reproach. Kiku's reaction was unexpected: he jerked and looked irritably at America.

"What are you doing?"

"Who? Me? Nothing," Alfred replied with a satisfied smile. "Are you ticklish?"

"Ah? I don't know," Kiku answered evasively, trying not to look into the blond man's eyes burning with a new dubious idea. Alfred, however, didn't like Japan's answer, so he poked him in the side again. "Alfred, stop it already! Why is it..."

and then a cry broke from Kiku's lips. America, without warning, began to squeeze Japan's sides. He wanted to boil with anger, but an involuntary laugh escaped from his lips. Kiku's eyes widened, and he abruptly put his hand over his mouth. Such a strange feeling, such...distant, but familiar.

For some reason, Japan wanted to resist the tickling sensation, so he continued to hold one hand to his mouth, and the other tried to remove America's hand from his ribs. But, as soon as his hand got close to Alfred's hand, he immediately transferred his ruthless attack to a new place. In the end, America pressed some particularly sensitive point somewhere on the upper ribs, which caused Japan to literally bend in half and, no longer able to restrain himself, laughed.

"Alfrehehed!! Stahap!" Japan struggled to avoid the American's touch, squirming and trying to press his elbows to his torso.

"Wow! I've never heard you laugh before!" now Alfred, stubbornly not hearing Kiku and his protests, leaned on the brunette and tormented his ribs.

Japan didn't understand how he got into such a situation, and how he could have let his guard down so much to let Alfred start tickling him so shamelessly. Well, since Kiku was in such a situation, his goal now was just to laugh and not make any unworthy sounds or, even more so, requests for mercy. Just imagine what a shame that would be! A centuries-old state that has gone through dozens of wars is humiliated, begging for mercy and squirming under the hands of a boy who is not even 250 years old yet! Japan, on principle, could not afford such immoral behavior, because it proudly endured all the attacks of the American, only trying to defend itself physically from them. By the way, his movements were somewhat limited, since at that moment America was leaning on him from behind, and he was sitting cross-legged, so he couldn't even just try to get up.

Alfred noticed that the impact on Kiku's ribs gives more reaction than the impact on his sides, so he continued the execution in this area. To be honest, he was surprised that the brunette could laugh at all, because he always behaves so modestly and calmly that sometimes you start to doubt. Therefore, at the moment, Alfred was glad that he could see his friend's smile and hear his laughter, even if in a somewhat strange way.

"Alfred, be carehEHEful!! You're going to crush me! Oh my GohoHOhod!" Japan laughed loudly enough, if compared with the volume of his voice during normal conversations. He no longer had the strength to fight Alfred, attacking from behind, so he just rested his hands on the floor so as not to fall.

After some time, something clicked in America's head, watching the Japanese laugh freely now, and he thought that Japan might actually be uncomfortable from this. After all, Japan, even though he was a friend of America, still often communicated with him in a business style and did not even touch him unnecessarily. Kiku has other traditions, upbringing and perception of others, and it is Alfred of the two of them who is super tactile and noisy, like a hurricane. Therefore, immediately after these thoughts, Alfred convulsively pulled his hands away from Japan's body, as if from a hot pan, and shamefacedly sat away from him, guiltily murmuring "Oh, sorry!"

Japan, all disheveled, no longer feeling his friend's moving fingers on his long-suffering sides and ribs, straightened up from his position and held his hand through the hair, calming down.

"Hey, Kiku, how are you? Everything okay? Did I overdo?" Alfred began fussing around him, trying to help him recover and sitting down on his left.

"No, it's all right, don't worry," Kiku exhaled, gradually leveling his breathing."I'm sorry I ignored you, too."

"Oh, come on, it's my own fault," Alfred waved off, feeling much more guilty for himself. He looked at Kiku, fiddling with the edge of his T-shirt. "So you're not angry?"

"No, why should I be angry?" Japan asked in surprise. And really, he didn't look angry or annoyed, even somehow...relaxed? Alfred was about to explain, but a characteristic sound came from the TV. "Look, it's finally loaded, wow."

Alfred abandoned the idea of telling about what would have happened to him if he had decided to pull off the same joke with someone else from the senior states, for example, with France or England, but seeing that the awkward atmosphere of the whole situation dissipated by itself, calmed down and began to watch the movie with Kiku.

He liked the movie, by the way. And Kiku, surprisingly, felt better after such physical contact.

[tkfluff-fanatic]

Have we ever mentioned we're a system?

Probably not.

Anyway, this is for a headmate. Fuck you, little bitch. Hate your ass.

[caffeinated-beverage]

is liet ticklish?

YES. He’s tickish as SHIT.

Though, despite all the laughing he does, he hates being tickled with a burning passion.

How he would react to being tickled would be like this:

Liet: “HAHAHAHDBEJHXRJHXHRJDJSJ STOP STOOP STOP I’M GONNA PISS MY PANTS STOPPIT” ***kicks the perpetrator in the face full-force, giving them a bloody nose, before getting up and looking at them as they hold their nose in pain*** “I said ‘stop it’.” >:/

[lokimaxwell]

Found this a while ago and found it cute so though I would share it 🤷

[coy-lee]

Urrrrgh ilovethemilovethemilovethem

England and Scotland are clearly the most stubborn of the UK bros and I JUST. NEED. I NEEEED.

The manga has suggested Scot is the eldest which URGH YES PLEASE, and England is the youngest which is ADORABLE. With their rivalry and natural disposition to be rather closed off, I absolutely see them finding ways to bond, of course denying they had fun afterwards.

I headcanon Scotland is a typical big brother, messing with his younger brothers, typically picking on England since he tends to be the most uptight. He'll give bear hugs and wrestle with them, mess up their hair, put them in headlocks and whatnot. Buuuuut he's also a talented and well practiced tickle monster. He absolutely keeps them on their toes. Squeezing their sides, tickle one side while walking past to make them look only for him to not be there, wrecking them when he wins a wrestling match... (Which happens a lot), and in this case... He uses the tickle taser. He makes sure it doesn't hurt, aiming to make it purely tickle since it always gets a good squeal out of his "victim". If his ticklee starts falling due to wobbly knees, he squats with them and escalates the situation. Poor England knows this, but cant help himself (tho in my hc he's a total glutton and loves the positive attention).

Scotland shows his love through being a butthead, but he is also a teasy bastard and pulls a 180 in personality sometimes when wrecking one of his brothers, choosing to coo and dote to drive them nuts, and especially poke at England's prideful facade in particular. Only time you'll catch him outside of his normal rugged big man attitude.

ANYWAY... I may have to write out all my headcanons for them sometime

[comfytickles]

He laughs too much. Better make him laugh more to fix this.

Click for better quality!

(This is a repost w/ better quality)

[astrophilic-soul]

When you were a kid, If you learned nursery rhymes , which ones did you guys learn and if you can remember, what were the words or something special you did?

[eclipsetickles]

Real question: Is the Hetalia part of this community actually dead? 😭 Like 8 years ago, there was SO MUCH HETALIA ✨️CONTENT✨️ (You know what type I'm not saying that shit). This feels so tragic after rewatching the entire series for the first time in years. Do I have to come out of my semi-retirement to fix this? Would anyone even be interested?

[tk-sweetz]

CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE SOMETHING WITH LER! AMERICA AND LEE! CANADA FROM APH PLS PLS I WANT SUCH CONTENT SM

I DIDNT NOTICE THIS 4 SO LONG BUT I FINALLY SAW IT AND DID IT BUT HERE YOU GO

America may or may not have been rushed

[lingkaranitubumi]

I keep staring at that russia-japan post I can't be the only one thinking it looks EXACTLY like Golden Kamuy

If it's made by an artist who try to emulate Noda's style... but it looks too natural???

If I'm right this could mean Satoru Noda was a Hetalian 💀 Honestly I'm not surprised by the slightest.

[sanchofff]

The Industrial Revolution(ler!Prussia, lee!Germany)

A/N:Hi everyone!!!this is my first fic, hope you'll like it!I love the Prussia/Germany dynamic, they are simply the best of the best fr

‼️This fanfiction contains tickles‼️

Word count: 2248

Eh, the end of the 19th century... The Industrial Revolution, progress in all spheres of society, well, isn't it a beauty? The embodiment of the newly emerged German Empire, young Ludwig Beilschmidt, is no longer so young and is growing and developing by leaps and bounds. For the last few years of its existence, it has to work especially actively because of competition between states and the need to increase its authority on the international market of goods. Every day, from morning to night, he works on designing new equipment and manufacturing high-quality commodity units.

To be honest, he would have long since died with all this work fuss, if not for his older brother, Gilbert Beilschmidt, who has been raising him since birth. He taught Ludwig everything he knew himself, and helps him in everything he can help in order to make a powerful and worthy state out of him; in general, he is an excellent brother, only at first glance at these two, because of the differences in characters, you can't immediately tell that he is his brother. However, it has never bothered anyone.

On this day Ludwig and Gilbert had a lot of work: in the first half of the day it was production, then testing of new goods, and after that a meeting with England, Arthur Kirkland, dedicated to the export and import of goods. In general, they lost their minds, but Ludwig, still unaccustomed, of course, was more tired. Therefore, having crossed the threshold of the house and taken off his shoes, Germany immediately went into the living room and, now relaxed with thoughts of rest, took off his jacket and lay down on the sofa in a shirt, trousers and socks. The sound of the front door closing was heard, and a couple of seconds later Gilbert came into the living room, also without a jacket. Prussia took a couple of steps to the sofa, sat on the edge, half-turned to the West, and gave the younger the usual confident smile, to which Germany just sighed and lay on his side.

"Brother... This is some kind of horror," Ludwig said with an emotionless expression on his face, looking somewhere in front of him. The intonation with which this phrase was said seemed very funny to the Prussian, so he laughed loudly.

"Excuse me, West, I couldn't restrain myself," said Prussia, quickly calming down."I understand it's hard for you now, but believe me, you'll get used to it soon, and it won't be so difficult anymore."

"According to your stories, it's only difficult in the war, but here, it turns out, it's like this... Political and economic issues will soon drive me mad," Germany continued. He never allowed himself to open up to anyone, but his brother is an exception to this rule, especially when they are alone at home. Prussia was with him throughout his life and never condemned him for anything, but only supported him in everything. And besides, even if Ludwig feels bad, but does not tell Gilbert, the elder will still notice that something is wrong and will get his way." Uh, em... sometimes it starts to seem that I'm doing everything wrong, and people are unhappy, and I do not know how to please them."

"Come on, I don't need it here!" The elder shouted with mock anger and poked the younger in the shoulder. "Don't be sour, West! Forget about it, you'll be fine, everything will be fine!"

The brothers were silent for half a minute. Ludwig felt a little calmer after this conversation, but his heart was still anxious and somehow not at all fun. Gilbert was great at sensing the atmosphere; he could see how much Junior was going through. How could he cheer him up?

Prussia looked from Junior to his hands. Suddenly an idea popped into his head, bad lights danced in his eyes.

"West, you're not happy," Gilbert stated the fact, running his right index finger along the fabric of the sofa.

"Yes, is it true, or what?" Ludwig gasped with feigned surprise. He noticed a strange sly note in the elder's voice, and it bothered him a lot.

"I know how to fix it!"

****

"Come on, West! Laugh!" of the sounds surrounding Prussia are only his own proud giggling, the rustling of fabric and the confused breathing of the younger."Come on!"

Now in their living room you could see this picture: Gilbert, straddling Ludwig's hips, proudly sitting on his younger brother and poking, then fingering his sides.

A few restrained sighs come out of Germany's mouth. Ludwig himself tries to resist tickling sensations, bites the inside of his cheek and his lips to restrain laughter. He grabs the older man's wrists, trying to push Gilbert's hands away and wriggle out from under him.

"Hey!" Prussia, seeing that the West was trying to escape, quickly pressed his hands with his knees, continuing his actions. This deprived the younger of the last escape route, leaving only the opportunity to squirm under the elder. "What do you think you are doing?"

Another couple of sharp pokes on the sides. Ludwig suddenly choked on air and coughed, which surprised Gilbert very much.

"West, are you kidding me?" the elder stopped for a few seconds so that the younger could even out his breathing. "I'm trying to help you here, actually, I want you to relax and not be so constrained, and you're ruining all my plans!" To be

honest, for Germany it was little like relaxation. No, he certainly didn't hate it, but the tickling is so embarrassing! Making someone laugh in this way is very sadistic, don't you think (and what, just in the spirit of Prussia)? In any case, the sensations were tolerable so far; if Gilbert continues at the same pace, then he will simply get bored with it due to the lack of reaction, and he will stop. In this case, Germany will definitely be able to withstand it. He'll handle it.

At least, that's what he thought. Until Prussia really got bored with it, but instead of stopping, as Ludwig expected, he decided to move his merciless attack from his brother's sides to his ribs, his more sensitive place.

Germany felt like an electric shock. He arched his back and made a sound vaguely resembling either a snort or a cry. Prussia, seeing that his brother would break down pretty soon, grinned and continued working harder with his fingers somewhere in the area of the younger's upper ribs. No matter what anyone said, and, in addition to the role of a loving older brother, Gilbert was also a real sadist: he pressed, easily ran his fingers, poked and, in principle, affected his brother's nerves in such a way as to cause as interesting reactions as possible. From such actions, Germany wanted to wriggle out, cover himself with his hands, squeeze into the sofa and, of course, laugh. Ludwig was no longer so confident in his abilities, so he just squinted and did not let a silly smile appear on his face until the last moment, waiting for it all to end.

And why didn't Gilbert immediately remember that West is ticklish? When Ludwig was a little boy, Prussia very often had to (oh, who is he kidding, it's already clear from him that he is more than satisfied with it) tickle him to cheer up or to conduct a so-called "endurance training". And if we take into account the fact that there were also such persons as Austria, France and Spain in his life... In general, we can say that he was a real expert in his field, and even with an excellent memory, because now he was furiously trying to remember which places on the body of his most beautiful brother were more sensitive.

Suddenly he had an idea. He stopped tormenting Ludwig's upper ribs, lightly running his fingers from them to the lower ribs, then along the sides and stopped where the pelvis connects to the hip, placing his palms on this place. He looked at Ludwig, whose eyes, from this shameless act of the elder, were like two silver coins in size.

"B-brother, I beg you, don't," said Ludwig, who was extremely nervous, trembling slightly. "Let's try to negotiate..."

"West, I'm not doing anything, and you're already all worn out! Are you still ticklish after all these years?"

Gilbert deliberately teased the younger one, bending his fingers very slightly. He remembered that even a small influence in this area, combined with a light teasing, would work perfectly on Ludwig and definitely make him laugh; the same tactics works perfectly on Antonio, by the way. "And in general, what is it that you and I have to agree on? I think everything is as clear as day," at this point, Prussia decided not to tease Ludwig anymore, either having mercy on the younger, or simply speeding up out of boredom, so he sharply squeezed his brother's hips, and mentally made a note:West is growing a real diplomat, ready to compromise.

The reaction to the compression followed immediately. Ludwig jerked so hard that he almost dropped himself and Gilbert from the sofa, and a ringing but tired laugh, which sounded like surrender, finally came from his lips. Prussia, hearing that the West had finally stopped fighting, laughed his trademark laugh not at his brother but with him—he was so pleased with himself and glad that he could finally make his brother laugh.

Under the elder's hands, Ludwig desperately writhed, stretched his neck, arched his back and let out more and more giggles. He lost. He was completely unarmed against his brother, all attempts to escape ended in a grand failure. Although, you know, Germany was not particularly against it. Even though he and Gilbert spent all their time together, traveling around the country and sitting at blueprints, he really lacked tactile contact or simple, like a father's, care, as before, in childhood. Ludwig would never admit his desire to anyone on pain of death. But, even so, this is not the kind of pastime he expected! The only drawback in his life, as he believed, was his sensitivity to tickling, and also Gilbert's dexterous fingers, which constantly tormented him as a child, with and without a reason, and made him scream and beg for mercy. No matter what anyone says out of ignorance, Prussia really was a master in this sphere, Ludwig is firmly convinced of this to this day.

And Prussia was having fun with absolutely undisguised delight, like a small child who was presented with a long-awaited toy. He, determined to extract as much benefit as possible from his fortunate position, skillfully scratched with short nails and squeezed the hips of West through the fabric of his trousers. After he began massaging with the thumbs of both his hands the places where the hips and pelvis meet, and with the rest of his fingers he drove where the sides connect with the back, Ludwig squealed very unmanly, and his laughter rose a couple of octaves.

"West, aren't you ashamed of yourself? I'm trying to relax you here, and you're laughing at me! Do you know what usually happens for this?" Gilbert asked threateningly, insidiously moving the fingers of one hand in the air, and continuing the execution with the other.

Ludwig tried to hold back his laughter for a couple of seconds and quickly nodded his head. Of course, he knows what usually happens for this. He went through this as a child. By the way, he didn't last long, and literally a second later, laughter was pouring out of him again in torrents.

"Well, that's great!" and continued what he was doing.

"Enough, please! Brother, that's enough, that's it!" now Ludwig really felt like in his childhood. It was the same words that he always used trying to stop his brother before, being in similar situations, but this, unfortunately, never helped him. Gilbert never listened to his pleadings about stopping tickling, but, at the same time, he has never overdone it. Prussia was very observant and always knew when to stop.

Just about a minute later, Gilbert decided that it would be enough for Ludwig, and he had already "relaxed" enough and laughed. Prussia began to slow down gradually, and after ten seconds stopped altogether, replacing the teasing movements with strokes and rubbing to erase the residual tickling sensations.

If someone had said that Gilbert was at least a milligram dissatisfied with the work he had done and the result obtained, then this person could have been accused of treason. Ludwig was lying on the sofa, trying to even out his breathing as soon as possible, with his head slightly thrown back and his arms and legs spread out. The shirt and trousers, of course, were crumpled, the bangs were disheveled, a thick blush colored the cheeks.

" Better?" Gilbert asked, getting up from junior's hips and sitting down next to his brother on the couch.

"I'll never tell you anything again," of course it's not true. Germany firstly leaned on his elbows, then took a sitting position, hanging his legs from the sofa.

"I love you too, West," the elder Beilschmidt said, half with mockery, half with a caring intonation, first patting Ludwig on the back in a fatherly way, then putting his left arm around his shoulders.

A faint, sincere, laid-back smile appeared on Germany's lips. After all, Gilbert-style relaxation helped him.