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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Happy Valentine's Day, Dear Gearsters! Please enjoy this year's assortment of Guilty Gear Official Valentine's Cards for that Special Gearster in your heart!
New Official Art
The Uchiha guys in love with a reader who really seems like the women of their time (a submissive, fragile, calm woman and such, that stereotype of a "perfect" wife) but in reality is completely the opposite? I imagine her kicking the ass of men who say any shit about her and being so badass (I don't know if you'll understand, but I hope you do - my English is horrible)
Your English is totally fine darling!! I love u!
Happy Uchiha

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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ă€ășă by yuonă [Twitter/X] â»Illustration shared with permission from the artist. If you like this artwork please support the artist by visiting the source.
Do they get jealous? / Uchiha men x Fem!reader
I just needed to get this out of my system, sorry.
featuring: Sasuke Uchiha, Itachi Uchiha, Obito Uchiha, Izuna Uchiha, Shisui Uchiha, Madara Uchiha, Indra Otsutsuki
tw: jealousy, possessive behaviour, like really possessive, some of these men are literally not okay, obsessive behaviour, yandere-ish behaviour, slut shaming, and victim blaming, because madara apparently doesnât believe in catcalling, slight smut, sexual content, kissing, mildly dubious consent, because this is all so beyond the line of normal relationship behaviour, toxic behaviour, hickeys, marking, referenced bdsm, toxic relationship, these men are just various degrees of unwell, mature content, unreliable narrator bc they are absolutely deranged, mostly their POV, who wouldâve thought Sasuke would end up being the sanest of the lot
Everyone in here is depicted as an adult.
Sasuke thinks heâs good at hiding it.
Heâs not.
You get a kick out of seeing him green in the face with rising jealousy whenever another man makes the mistake of speaking to you. But heâs so damn proud that he would die before admitting it out loud. He knows he should be stronger, that to lose to such basic instincts speaks of a lesser man than the one he aspires to be. But he canât help it. Something dark gets hold of him whenever another guy gets near you. And he stares at you from afar, seething, gripping whatever surface he has at his disposal so tight that knuckles start to turn white. It doesnât matter how well-behaved you are, eitherâbecause you are. You always keep a respectable distance from whoever approaches you with deceitful intentions. But you still smile at them while refusing their advances, and he hates that.
He sulks and broods for the rest of the night, only answering your questions in monosyllables. It used to be frustrating for you, but now that you know the reason, itâs become an effective way to shut him up whenever you require some peace and quiet.
Itachi honestly believed himself above it.
Before you came into his life, he never would have thought of himself as the jealous type. It didnât matter how many men dared crowd around any of his previous partners; heâs always been too confident to feel the crushing vice of resentment slowly seizing his heart at the sight of it. And yet, he canât stop his gaze from wandering towards you whenever you catch someone elseâs eye, now.
The fuckers linger so damn close, too.
What do they get so close for?
He can only imagine what goes through their filthy minds while talking to you, and it eats at him from inside.
He wants to snatch you away from them, wants to dip his fingers into your soft skin so hard that the resulting bruises will be enough of a warning for whoever strolls towards you next.
But he knows that refraining will be much more rewarding.
He will soon have you know just how much heâs suffered, anyway. You will be bare and defenseless by then. You will be his. After all, thereâs only one cure for this sickness of his, and itâs in your sweet voice and how it rings in his eardrums when broken by pleasure, moaning his name as if it were your salvation.
Obito is beyond possessive. He knows, and he doesnât care to correct his ways, either.
But thatâs just because all he does is for you. To protect you, to keep you safe from all those disgusting pieces of shit that heâs sure constantly hover around you whenever heâs not around to scare them away.
Thatâs why you always have his hands on you when you two are out together. Not harsh, never harsh on youâjust firm and heavy on your hips, or steadily lingering at the back of your neck, keeping you as close to him as he can manage. Wherever he can touch you, however much is enough to let them all know not to mess with his girl.
Sometimes they donât get the hint, tho. They shamelessly eye you up in the streets as if you were there to amuse them, too caught up soaking in your astonishing beauty to even notice him. It sends fire running down his veins, an unrestrainable instinct flowing through him.
He squeezes you even closer, then, fingers dipping a bit too hard in your skin when he turns your face his way, pressing hot lips on yours to send a much clearer message. Their gazes finally wander elsewhere with that, and it never fails to have him smirking triumphantly.
Izunaâs not bothered by the weight of their eyes on you whenever youâre with him.
The real problem arises when youâre left on your own, lacking his supervision.
Anytime you tell him youâre gonna go out with your friends, he tenses up immediately, jaw clenching, fingers twitching.
Why do you do this to him? Donât you know itâs torture for him to know youâre gonna be defenseless against them?
He needs to find a way to protect you. He would go as far as to keep you with him at all times to do that. Or, he could cover your body up completely just to make sure nobody else gets to see your marvelous curves and fantasize about them the way only he can. But you seem to be adamant in opposing that intent whenever you pick an outfit to wear for such occasions.
He canât have them gooning over you like dogs in heat, tho.
Thatâs why youâre not allowed out before heâs got his way with you. He will make sure to cover you up completely in the making. And when heâs done, every single inch of your skin that rests exposed to the chilly night air will bear the mark of his canines. He loves you so much more like this, anywayâmarred with hickeys and bites that he will make sure to have last for days. No one will look at you without knowing, and they'd better think twice before messing with such a beast. That has to be enough to soothe his soul, for now.
Shisui is desperately jealous, constantly seeking reassurance by dragging his hands on you. And it takes him so little to have you give in. His touch is hopeless and greedy, promptly turning you pliable to whatever he needs from you.
He asks you to tell him youâre his again and again, with his fingers buried inside you, with his teeth gently grazing at your pulse, his voice miserable and broken by pleasure. Heâs a mess when the words strain out of his lips for the hundredth time, soft and pleading.
" You're mine?"
You nod, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed, heavy breaths mixing with his. He feels too good to deny. No matter how proud you are, you crumble as if he were an earthquake when heâs got his hands on you, firm muscle twitching with seismic intensity against your flesh.
Thereâs something about the glint of his eyes whenever you give in that makes shivers crawl up your spine, as if youâd just realized having given your soul up to the devil.
He ravishes you, then. He has to. He needs to feel you drown in pleasure at his hands. Thatâs the only thing that quiets the voices in his mind, melting that haunting fear of losing you to someone else.
Itâs ecstatic, the feeling provided by knowing you wonât run away, not even if he decides to smother you with his undying affection.
Madara holds you responsible for how men behave around you.
Youâre too hot, always dressing like a whore as if purposefully trying to lure them in. What else are the poor bastards to do, then? Your perfect curves must sing to them as they do to him, and the softness of your skin is painfully evident when wrapped in that damn leather you have a habit of wearing. Itâs only natural that they turn their heads whenever you pass them by.
Heâs convinced that you like the attention. All those stares, whistles, and filthy remarks they shower you with.
You think youâre so smitten, parading your body around for everyone to see.
Isnât his gaze enough to sate you?
Heâs fascinated by the magnitude of your greed, really. But regardless of it, he canât let such behaviour go unpunished.
And thatâs why he loves to tie you to his bed late at night, relishes in having you admit to your perversions and endless calls for attention, all while he teases you to no end. By the time he finally decides to grant you a bit of pleasure, youâre sobbing and desperate already. You sniffle and writhe, mascara pitifully running down your plump, flush cheeks, staining you guilty of having played with his heart for way too long. You beg to have him inside, imploring him to be his. Thatâs just the way it always should have been, anyway.
Indra doesnât care where you wander to, as long as you always come back to him.
He knows how you like to think you could do better. Every month or so, you throw your usual fit, lashing out at him and leaving him alone for days on end.
But itâs alright, because you always come back. You always appear beneath the bow of the door to his apartment, eyes glossy and desperate for more of him. Because he knows damn well you canât resist the way he treats you. He's heard you talking about him with your friends: "Gentle, yes, but demanding; endlessly caring but oh, so greedyâpractically insatiable."
He bets he touches you better than anyone else ever could. After all, heâs memorized every curve and patch of skin on that perfect little body you keep refusing to admit belongs to him. Heâs mapped it out flawlessly over the years. All so that he knows exactly which buttons to push to have you come undone in his arms. Once, twice, three times. He can go on all night long with absolute ease. Until your knees give out. Until youâre void of your useless pride and full of devotion instead. Youâre too weak to resist the way he loves you. Doesnât matter how much you two fight; doesnât matter if he doesnât clean his act up like you so badly wish for him to do. He can always count on this. On the fact that you always end up coming back with your tail between your legs. On the way you thread and squirm, too impatient to have his skin pressed against yours. No other man you delude yourself of ever being able to love can bathe his ego in this pitiful display, heâs sure. It makes him feel invincible. You make him feel like the worldâs all his, like heâs the sun you will always, inevitably gravitate around.
Izuna commission