Sasuke’s Tickle Torture
Because our man Sasuke is in desperate need of tickles. SUCH a shame he was never tickled in the show or manga. Someone draw him getting tickles please!
Sasuke wandered the streets of the half deserted village, lost in thought. The villagers passed by, their gazes curious but cautious. They knew the reputation of the Uchiha Clan, and Sasuke's stern expression only further solidified their wariness. He paid them no mind, his mind preoccupied with his own demons. He turned down a quiet alleyway, seeking solitude. The silence was a welcome respite from the village's hushed whispers and judgmental eyes.
Sasuke walks past some unknown shop doors that weren’t there the last time he was here. His eyes narrowed as he walked past the unfamiliar shop doors. He had walked this village a thousand times since he had left the leaf village since Orochimaru’s hideout had been nearby at one point, and these shops had never been there before. A sense of unease settled in his gut. The Uchiha slowed his pace and approached the shops, peering through the windows, searching for any clues about their origins.
“Hey.” A man says from one of the doors. “What’re you doing back here?”
Sasuke stops abruptly, turning his gaze towards the man who spoke. He sizes up the stranger with a critical stare. “I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, his voice low and guarded.
The man chuckles. “A tough guy eh? You better scram before you’re in an unfortunate circumstance.”
Sasuke's eyes narrow, and he takes a step closer. His hand instinctively clenched into a fist. “Is that a threat?” he asks gruffly, his gaze flickering to the mysterious shops.
“Don’t try me boy.” The man warns. “I’ve dealt with lots of tough guys. I know how to shut them up real quick. Now…quit noseying in an area you don’t belong. Our business doesn’t concern you.”
Sasuke scoffs, his lips curling into a cold smirk. His grip tightens, but he keeps his hands at his sides for now. "Then you should know better than to waste my time with empty words," he says, voice dangerously calm. His Sharingan flickers to life—subtle, but unmistakable. The man was acting too suspicious for his good. "What’s going on through here?” He demands.
Another man appears from behind him. “Eh this guy giving you trouble?” He asked the first one.
The first man grunts, gesturing towards Sasuke. "Yeah, he's been loitering around our…”shops”. I've warned him to move along, but he's being stubborn."
“You asking for trouble?” The second man says eyeing Sasuke.
Sasuke's smirk widens, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "Trouble? From the likes of you?" He scoffs. "I've faced much bigger threats than a couple of shopkeepers with bad attitudes.”
Sasuke continues walking toward a suspicious looking door for a bit until he feels hands on him.
Sasuke's entire body tenses the moment the hands make contact with him. His patience snaps like a frayed wire. In one fluid motion, he twists, grabbing the wrist of whoever dared touch him, his grip ironclad. His Sharingan spins fiercely now, crimson cutting through the dim alleyway like a blade. “Wrong move," he says, voice lethally quiet. "You just sealed your fate."
“That so?” The man sneers and suddenly Sasuke feels the second man stab his arm with something.
A sharp, biting pain shoots through Sasuke’s arm as the second man stabs him with something. He hisses in pain, momentarily distracted by the unexpected attack. His grip slackens on the first man, and he can feel the warm rush of blood. His eyes narrow, the Sharingan flickering with barely contained fury. "You think you can take me down that easily?" he growls, gritting his teeth against the pain.
But then Sasuke began to feel…lightheaded.
Sasuke's vision begins to swim, the edges of his world tilting precariously. He stumbles backward, the pain from the stab injury mixing with a growing fog in his mind. "What... What have you done to me?" he croaks, fighting to maintain his balance.
“Something wrong?” He hears one of them sneer.
Sasuke's mind fights to clear the haze, but it only intensifies. His thoughts are becoming sluggish, and his body feels oddly heavy. He tries to retort, to issue a threat, but the words refuse to form. Instead, his knees give way, and he hits the ground with a hard thud.
The Uchiha groans awake sometime later. His head pounds like a drum, vision still blurred as he tries to push himself up. His arm throbs where the needle had stabbed him, the wound hastily bandaged—poorly, as if whoever did it barely cared. His Sharingan flickers weakly as he scans his surroundings.
"Where…?" he mutters, voice hoarse. The air smells damp, the walls too close—some kind of cellar or storage room. He grits his teeth, forcing himself to his knees despite the dizziness.
They’d drugged him. That much was obvious. And they’d dragged him somewhere.
A slow, simmering rage burns through the fog in his mind. Whoever these men were, they had just made the worst mistake of their lives. He moved to sit up…and realizes with a jolt that his arms and legs are cuffed down to some kind of table.
Frustration flares within him as realization dawns. He tugs at the cuffs, confirming that his arms and legs are thoroughly restrained. "Damn it," he mutters under his breath, anger mixing with the lingering effects of the drug. With his chakra still sluggish, he can't yet break free. His eyes dart about, searching for any weaknesses in his makeshift bindings or any tools nearby that might aid his escape.
“Something wrong?” The first man he saw appeared.
Sasuke’s expression darkens, his eyes locking onto the man with cold precision. "You’re making a mistake," he says, voice low and controlled despite the lingering haze in his head. "Let me go, and maybe I’ll spare you the pain of regretting this." His fingers twitch against the cuffs, testing their strength. "Or don’t. Either way, this ends badly for you."
The man just smirks, clearly underestimating him. “You’re in no position to argue.” The second man comes out and says. “We didn’t like you coming down the ally. Giving us attitude. There’s stuff going on down there that’s none of your business.”
"None of my business?" Sasuke sneers, his patience wearing desperately thin. The drugs made his thoughts slow, his limbs heavy, but the Uchiha's pride would not be quelled. "I don’t care about your damn business. I can go wherever I want."
He yanks against the cuffs again, the muscles in his arms straining against the unyielding metal. If only his chakra would cooperate, he could have them both on their knees begging for mercy.
“Yeah well we are gonna change your mind about that aren’t we.” The first man fastens a large cuff around his hips. “We’ll have you begging soon. And this will teach you not to loiter around our…business.”
Sasuke's eyes widen in realization a moment before the second man locks the hip cuff. Anger surges through him, hot and blinding. "You idiots have no idea who you're messing with," he growls, struggling against the unyielding bonds. Though he was secretly wondering why these men wanted him away from their shop so bad. "If you think whatever twisted game you're playing will end well for you, then you're even bigger fools than I thought." His mind races, trying to think of a way out of this mess. He's a shinobi—used to improvising, adapting, and turning the tables.
He thrashed in the cuffs trying to free himself. Despite his efforts, the cuffs hold steadfast, their unyielding steel refusing to budge an inch. Sasuke's frustration mounts as he strains against the bonds, muscles tensing with every futile tug. The metal digging into his skin only infuriates him further. "Damn it!" he snarls, the word punctuated by angry grunts as he continues his struggle.
His eyes burn with cold fury. He could break these cuffs with ease under normal circumstances...if it weren't for the damn drugs still messing with his chakra.
“Now. We’ll give you one shot to apologize. Or else…the torture begins.” The dark haired man says with a glare.
"Apologize?" Sasuke spits, eyes blazing with defiance. "I don't apologize to scum like you." Tortured? He'd laugh if it weren't for the gravity of the situation. "You think you can hurt me? I've endured far worse pain than anything you could dream up. Let me go, now."
He tugs at his bonds again, muscles straining against the unyielding metal. If only his chakra would respond, he'd rip these cuffs off like paper.
“Who said anything about pain?” The second man laughs and jabs his ribs.
Sasuke jerks at the jab, but his glare doesn’t waver. He exhales sharply through his nose, keeping his expression steeled. "If not pain, then what? Are you really this desperate for attention?" His tone is laced with disgust. "You'll regret wasting my time."
Internally, he’s calculating. His chakra still isn’t responding properly, and these cuffs are no joke. But he refuses to give them the satisfaction of seeing him rattled. His mind races for another way out.
“Take a guess and we might go easy.” The first man pulls his cuffs tight so his body is taught.
Sasuke barely flinches as the cuffs tighten, but the pressure makes his limbs ache. His jaw clenches. "You think this is clever?" he mutters, voice sharp with disdain. "You’re dragging this out like cowards. If you’ve got something to say, say it. Otherwise, stop wasting my time."
He’s buying seconds—his chakra’s still sluggish, but the more he stalls, the clearer his head becomes. And when it does, they won’t like what happens next.
But one of the men began to trail his fingers along his exposed belly to his confusion.
Sasuke tenses as the man's fingers trace along his bare stomach, confusion mixing with disbelief. The unexpected action throws him off, his gaze flicking to the man's face—searching for some hint of what's about to happen. He bristles at the contact, his instincts screaming at him to recoil. This is not what he'd expected from the likes of these goons.
The fingers were feathery, shooting odd sensations through Sasuke. He grits his teeth, a sharp breath hissing between them as his body instinctively stiffens under the unwanted touch. His stomach twists in revulsion, but he refuses to give them the reaction they’re clearly fishing for. Instead, his voice comes out ice-cold—controlled, despite the fire burning beneath his skin. “Get your hand off me," he warns, the threat in his tone deadly clear. "Unless you want to lose it."
His Sharingan flickers, still sluggish from the drugs, but the intent in his glare is unmistakable. If they push this any further, there won’t be enough of them left to regret it. But he was ignored as the touch continued. What was this odd feeling?
Frustration mounts as Sasuke's protest is ignored, the unwanted touch continuing to send a strange mix of sensations through him. Confusion wars with disgust, anger with uncertainty. The Uchiha grits his teeth, forcing himself to remain still despite the urge to jerk away. His mind races, trying to make sense of this situation. He’d been expecting pain, threats, maybe more drugs...but this is something entirely different. Something...strange.
His muscles ache with tension as the touch persists, his senses on high alert. What is happening? What the hell are they doing?
Both of the man’s hands began to flutter his sides.
Sasuke can't help but flinch as the second man joins in, their hands moving in tandem along his sides. Slowly. Teasingly. His body jerks involuntarily, unable to control the response to the touch.
He grits his teeth, every muscle in his body tensing. The sensations are foreign, unwelcome. It goes against everything he is, to be touched without consent, and the indignity of being so helpless only fans the anger and confusion raging inside him. His glare sharpens, his Sharingan spinning erratically as he struggles for control. "What...the hell...are you doing?!"
“Figured it out yet?” One of them says as their hands fluttered all along his torso.
Sasuke's eyes widen, his glare flickering between the two men as they continue their maddening ministrations along his torso. The sensations are both odd and baffling, confusing his instincts.
They were…tickling him?
Anger gives way momentarily to sheer bewilderment as the realization sinks in. They're...tickling him. These goons, who had just kidnapped him, drugged him, and restrained him, are now tickling him. Tickling?! It's so absurd, so utterly ridiculous that for a split second, Sasuke doesn't know how to react.
His usual stoicism falters, and a strangled sound escapes him as another wave of ticklish sensations washes over him, making his muscles jerk involuntarily.
Sasuke hadn’t been tickled in so long he had forgotten the feeling. He might vaguely remember Itachi trying to…though he had burrowed all good memories of his older brother so he wasn’t sure. He sort of remembered Naruto trying to by jabbing his knuckles in his ribs, which hurt more than it tickled. So this was…an odd electric feeling.
His breath hitches as the sensations intensify—an involuntary twitch, a flinch he can't suppress. The absurdity of it clashes violently with his pride. Tickling. Of all the humiliations he'd endured, this was the most unexpected.
And the worst part? His body was betraying him. He could feel the involuntary pull of his muscles, the way his ribs ached from resisting laughter. Was he really going to laugh? When was the last time he had even laughed? But he refused—absolutely *refused*—to let them win.
"Are you children?" Sasuke snaps, voice tight with frustration. "You drug me, chain me down, and *this* is your grand plan?" His fingers flex against the cuffs, but they still hold firm. He exhales sharply, glaring daggers. "You're wasting my time."
But internally, he’s scrambling. His chakra is still sluggish, his mind fogged. If he could just focus—just hold out long enough for the effects to fade—they’d regret every second of this. But their hands were…too good. They began to really tickle him.
Sasuke’s body jerks against the restraints as their fingers find every sensitive spot, wringing reactions out of him he didn’t even know were possible. His jaw clenches, teeth grinding, but a choked sound escapes anyway—something between a cough and a laugh, forced through sheer willpower. His face burns with humiliation.
"Stop!" His demand is sharp, but the waver in his voice betrays him. His legs twitch against the cuffs, shoulders straining to twist away from their relentless hands. This was… unbearable. Not pain, not fear, just this ridiculous assault on his control. And damn it he was TICKLISH.
He glares daggers, but his usual icy composure is cracking. "I swear, when I get out of these—" Another involuntary jerk cuts him off. The threat dies in his throat as his body betrays him again.
He was dangerously close to breaking out in high pitch laughter. The sensations are overwhelming now, the tickling relentless. His body is a tense wire, muscles clenched so tightly it hurts. Every instinct screams at him to laugh, to give in, to end this madness.
But his pride refuses. He will *not* break like this, humiliated by these fools and their ridiculous tactic. But the tickle spots are merciless—his sides, his ribs, the underside of his arms, the sensitive spot right below his bellybutton...it's too much. *Far* too much.
Tiny choked laughs escaped. The first tiny laugh is like a crack in Sasuke's resolve. It slips out unexpectedly, a sharp, strangled sound that he couldn't hold back. His face flushes, embarrassment battling within him.
The tickling continues, their hands dancing over his exposed skin like they're playing an instrument. His body jerks involuntarily, his muscles protesting against the onslaught. He can't think, can't focus, his pride and dignity crumbling under this onslaught. He couldn’t believe he was being tickled of all things. And he couldn’t believe how ticklish he was.
Another choked cough/laugh escapes him, his glare weakening as his resolve slips further. This is…impossible. His body betrays him completely now—sharp, stifled bursts of laughter forced through clenched teeth. Each one is like a fresh humiliation, his breath coming in short gasps between them. His pride burns, furious at this undignified display, but the relentless assault on his senses leaves no room for control.
"Tch—*hah!*—enough," he snaps, though there's no real bite left in it. His fingers flex against the cuffs uselessly, his chakra still too sluggish to break free.
This is insufferable.
“Not fully laughing yet?” One man chuckled and began rendering tickles down his legs.
Sasuke's body jerks under the sudden change of sensation as they move to his legs. He gasps, the ticklish sensations intensifying, his legs kicking involuntarily. His thighs were ticklish, but his knees were HORRIBLY ticklish. He's struggling for control now, the laughter that's been threatening to break free fighting to escape his throat. He can feel it building, and he swallows hard, fighting every instinct.
His voice is shaky as he spits out a response, trying to cling to his dignity. "Y-you won't…ha…won't get—" His words dissolve into another choked laugh—this one higher pitched than the others.
One continues tickling his torso as the other tickles down his legs over his knees. Sasuke's body is now a volatile mix of tremors and jerks, his breaths quick and shallow. The tickling on his torso and legs is overwhelming, each touch sending jolts through him, forcing laughs he can't hold back.
He's struggling against the cuffs now, his pride all but shattered. His face is flushed, his usually composed demeanor replaced by a desperate, undignified struggle. The sounds that escape him are a far cry from his usual composure—a mix of sharp laughter and strained gasps.
"S-stop this—hah! damn it!"
But then the one at his legs began tickling his feet…and that’s Sasuke’s breaking point.
A sharp, breathless sound escapes Sasuke the moment those fingers brush against his feet—his entire body jolts as if struck by lightning. His toes curl instinctively, but the contact is relentless. His voice, usually so controlled, cracks into high-pitched, involuntary laughter—real, unrestrained, humiliating laughter.
He throws his head back against the table, breathless, face burning with furious embarrassment, and laughs. A roaring deep belly laugh that surprised even him. He can’t even form a proper threat between the gasps, his pride in *ruins* as his body betrays him completely. Every jerk of his limbs rattles the cuffs, but they hold firm, leaving him utterly at their mercy.
For now…all he could do is laugh helplessly as both of them tickle him absolutely relentlessly. His body is a wreck of helpless response, the tickling now overwhelming in its intensity. There's no reprieve, no chance to catch his breath, just wave after wave of overwhelming sensation. His laughter now sounds desperate, almost like pleading, each sharp *Hah!* a stark reminder of his shattered pride. His laughter was so loud. He couldn’t remember ever laughing like this.
Sasuke’s toes curl and uncurl involuntarily, his feet jerking against the table, muscles taut under the onslaught. He's reduced to this, the fearsome Uchiha, helplessly writhing under the hands of these men, his laughter echoing off the stone walls. It's...mortifying.
The first man was too good at his torso. Tickling his armpits with swirls and scribbles, the fluttering down his sides and kneading his belly. Then he would squeeze his ribs with his thumbs and the tops of his hips, making sure to get the divots. He would also tickle his belly button with a finger.
Each of these moves earns a specific reaction, as Sasuke's body responds with involuntary jerks and gasps. The stomach-kneading and hip squeezes make his stomach twitch, his back arching slightly, forcing deep, shuddering laughs from him. And the belly-button attention—that's an entirely different level of torture, sending him into a fit of strangled giggles (he couldn’t believe he actually GIGGLED). Just one finger the man would stick in his belly button and twist around, sending Sasuke into fits.
He's practically thrashing against the restraints now, all pride and dignity in tatters, utterly at the mercy of their fingers.
The one at his feet was excruciating. Scribbling each one, going between his toes. He would scratch the balls of his feet and flutter the tops with feather like tickles. Sasuke's body jolts violently as the torturous attention on his feet continues—each scribble, each flutter sending electric jolts of unbearable sensation up his legs. His breath comes in ragged bursts, laughter now completely beyond his control, sharp and high-pitched.
His toes curl and flex uselessly against the onslaught, heels drumming against the table in a futile attempt to escape. Every scrape, every light touch is *agony* in the most ridiculous way possible. His voice is wrecked, his usual icy composure shattered into gasping, breathless, “Please-“ before resolving into laughter again.
This is beyond humiliating. The second he's free, they're *finished.* But right now? He's powerless. Just laughter, twitching limbs, and a furious, burning blush.
And yet this was also exhilarating.
Finally they stop and let him breathe. The tickling stops as suddenly as it began, leaving Sasuke breathless, panting, flushed with embarrassment, and still shuddering with residual tremors from the relentless assault. He's a far cry from the composed, dignified Uchiha now, reduced to an exhausted mess, his body still twitching with after shocks, every muscle taut and trembling.
For a long, tense moment, silence reigns, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing as he struggles to find some semblance of control. His mind is chaos, every part of him screaming for this to be a nightmare.
“Still not apologizing?” One of them sneers.
Sasuke's gaze snaps up, eyes blazing with fury. His voice is hoarse, breathless from the relentless tickling and his desperate attempts to regain control. "I...won't...apologize." It's a struggle to force the words out, each one punctuated by a sharp inhale of breath. His whole body is still shuddering, the after effects making his muscles twitch with unwanted sensation. "Not...to the likes of you."
“Suit yourself.” They men make eye contact and go down to his feet.
No...The look in their eyes is familiar, and dread sinks in Sasuke's stomach as he feels their gazes fix on his feet. *No, please no.* He's only just gotten a reprieve, and his body is still in no state to take any more. He struggles in the cuffs, but it's futile. He's still weakened, still twitching from the aftermath, vulnerable and completely at their mercy. “Don't...don't you dare—"
They tie his toes back in the stocks. Sasuke's breath hitches as his toes are wrenched back and locked into place, the unforgiving stocks ensuring he can't even twitch his feet to resist. The indignity of it burns worse than any wound. His jaw clenches hard enough to ache.
Then—without warning—their fingers dig in again.
His entire body jerks against the cuffs, laughter bursting out of him in sharp, involuntary peals. Every brush of their fingers is agony, every scribble between his toes sending shocks up his spine. He thrashes, but the restraints hold firm, leaving him utterly helpless as the tickling continues without mercy.
The Uchiha heir, reduced to this. Humiliation scalds him, but his body betrays him anyway—laughter spilling free, face flushed, muscles quivering under the assault. Two hands on either foot was horribly horribly ticklish, and he couldn’t stop laughing.
But then, he goes absolutely hysterical as they began scraping brushes on his feet. The moment the brushes touch his feet, Sasuke *cracks.* The feeling is pure fire, each swipe igniting new waves of unbearable sensation. He's laughing like a maniac now—high-pitched, desperate, delirious. His feet kick against the stocks, toes curling against the onslaught. He can't even form words, just a string of broken *Hah!*s and half-choked gasps of breath.
Every nerve in his body feels like it's being lit on fire. This is a whole new level of torture, and he can't get away.
Sasuke’s laugh is unlike anything he had ever laugh. High pitched cackling, practically screaming laughter. The sound of his own laughter echoes in his ears—shrill, wild, utterly foreign to him. It doesn't even sound like him. His body convulses, toes curling frantically in the stocks, heels drumming against the wood as the brushes scrape mercilessly over every inch of his feet. His breath comes in ragged gasps between bursts of uncontrollable cackling.
This is madness. He’s the last heir of the Uchiha clan, a warrior who’s faced down death a thousand times—and here he is, completely undone by *tickling.*
The moment he gets free, these men won’t live long enough to regret it. But right now? All he can do is laugh.
They began focusing on the balls of his feet and Sasuke goes hysterical, and he laughs so hard it goes silent. The shift in focus is like a switch being flipped. The new spot is a direct hit, and the sound that escapes Sasuke is…bizarre. It's like his laugh has been blanked out by the sensory overload. His body twists and jerks against the stocks, toes curling instinctively, and every muscle in his legs and feet is clenched, trembling, as those brushes dance across the most sensitive spot of his feet.
It's like every nerve in those parts of his feet is on fire, the sensation completely overwhelming any thought, any resistance—just that wild, silent laughter. You know when you laugh soooo hard no noise comes out? Yup. That’s what happened to him. His face scrunched in laughter as he is tickled more than he ever had. It didn’t help that the brushes had just the right amount of pressure to be horribly ticklish.
Finally he catches his breath and gives in. His chest heaves as the tickling finally slows, his exhausted body slumping against the restraints. His face is flushed, his breathing ragged, his entire body trembling from the overstimulation. His lips part—voice hoarse, broken—before he forces out the words through gritted teeth.
"...Fine." A pause, a shuddering inhale. "I... apologize." The admission burns worse than any flame jutsu, but he can't take another second of this.
The men exchange smirks, victorious.
Sasuke's glare promises vengeance.
“Now we’ll let you go…if you don’t retaliate.” One sneers. “And NOT come back.”
Sasuke grits his teeth, jaw tightening, as the men move to undo the restraints. His eyes flicker with a dangerous glint, every muscle coiled with tension and furious humiliation. He knows the only reason he's being released is because they've won. He's weak, vulnerable, reduced to begging for mercy—the last thing he ever wanted.
They undo the stocks, letting his feet free. He almost falls, knees trembling from the residual trembling of his muscles, but he doesn't.
He stands, glaring at them. "I won't retaliate."
And with that Sasuke storms out, trying to fight the lingering tingles.
His steps are unsteady at first as he forces himself to move, every muscle still twitching with the remnants of that cursed sensation. The humiliation burns hotter than any fire jutsu ever could, his jaw clenched tight as he fights the urge to turn back and end those men right then and there.
But he'd given his word.
For now.
Sasuke doesn't look back as he vanishes into the shadows of the alley, fists still trembling—partly from the lingering effects, partly from sheer, seething fury. This isn't over. Not by a long shot.
(And if *anyone* ever finds out about this, they won't live long enough to laugh.)
