Baby toys with him

Shikamaru’s head throbbed as consciousness clawed its way back, the lingering haze of Kurenai’s Genjutsu dulling his senses. His instincts screamed danger, and when he tried to move, coarse ropes bit into his wrists and ankles, binding him tightly to the chair beneath him. Restrained. Trapped. His sharp, strategic mind snapped into gear, forcing his breathing to steady as he suppressed the panic gnawing at his core. Assess the situation first. His dark eyes darted around the dimly lit bedroom, scanning for every detail, every possible escape route.

And then—he saw them.

Temari and Kurenai.

Together.

Sprawled across the bed, their flawless bodies gleamed in shimmering black lingerie, the fabric clinging like wet ink to their curves. Temari’s fishnet-clad legs splayed wide, her back arched as Kurenai knelt between her thighs. The older woman’s crimson eyes glinted with dark intent, her tongue working slowly, deliberately, lapping at Temari’s pussy with wet, rhythmic strokes. The air thickened with the musk of their arousal, punctuated by Temari’s soft, shuddering moans—sounds that weren’t entirely her own. Their bodies entwined in the flickering candlelight, Kurenai’s hands roamed with purpose, caressing Temari’s hips as their red eyes gleamed with malice and lust.

It should have been alluring, intoxicating. Instead, it was a waking nightmare.

Temari’s head lolled toward him, golden hair spilling over her bare shoulders, and a wicked smirk curled her glossy lips. Baby’s voice purred from her stolen form, dripping with venomous seduction. “Awake at last, Shikamaru?” she taunted, her hand threading through Kurenai’s hair, guiding her deeper. “Look at your fierce little storm—see how she melts for me. And Kurenai… oh, she’s such a good girl, isn’t she?” Kurenai hummed against Temari’s flesh, her tongue flicking with fervor, drawing a shiver from the body beneath her. Baby laughed—a velvet blade slicing the silence—as she slid a hand down her own chest, cupping a tit through the lingerie. “You’re next, darling,” she teased, her fishnet-covered thighs straddling the bed’s edge as she leaned closer, her face inches from his. “I’ll fuck that clever mind of yours into submission—won’t that be delicious?”

Shikamaru’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he tested the ropes—tight, but not flawless. His mind raced, a chessboard unfolding behind his steady gaze. Shadows clung to the room’s corners; if he could reach them, manipulate them with his jutsu, he might turn this trap on its head. The knots were standard shinobi work—likely Kurenai’s doing, but not perfect. He flexed his fingers subtly, feeling for slack, while his thoughts spun: Baby’s control was parasitic, not absolute. Temari’s will might still linger, a crack he could exploit. “Troublesome,” he muttered, his voice low, buying time as he calculated.

He **** himself to block out the disturbing display, ignoring the way Temari’s—Baby’s—body moved with calculated seduction, the wet sounds of Kurenai’s tongue, the heat radiating from their entwined forms. He wasn’t losing this fight. His mind was his weapon, and he’d damn well use it to get out.

Shikamaru’s muscles tensed as Temari—no, Baby— leaned in close, her smooth fingers trailing up his jawline with a slow, deliberate caress that sent a cold chill down his spine. The bedroom pulsed with charged stillness, the air thick with the mingled scents of sweat, lace, and the faint iron tang of impending ruin. She straddled his lap, her fishnet-clad thighs pressing against him, the warmth of her body in shimmering black lingerie meant to be sensual, intoxicating. But Shikamaru wasn’t fooled. His sharp mind saw through it—control, a twisted game—and he was the piece Baby intended to break.

Kurenai rose from the bed, her own lingerie clinging to her curves like wet ink, and crossed the room with predatory grace. She pressed herself against Shikamaru from behind, her hands firm on his shoulders, pinning him to the chair with a strength that belied her seductive sway. Her lips found his neck, leaving a slow, wet kiss that trailed heat along his skin, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “You’re so hard for us, aren’t you? Gonna fuck you senseless, make you ours.”

Baby chuckled, feeling the throb of Shikamaru’s erection through his pants—a betraying pulse that fueled her glee. “Oh, Shikamaru,” she taunted, Temari’s voice dipping into a sultry croon, “your body’s already surrendered—look at that cock begging for me. Such a clever boy, but so weak where it counts.” She lifted one manicured finger, the black-painted fingernail gleaming in the moonlight, and dragged it across his cheek—a deliberate, shallow cut that welled crimson instantly. Shikamaru flinched, a hiss escaping his lips, but his eyes stayed sharp, unyielding. Baby brought Temari’s finger to her mouth, her tongue flicking out to lick the blood, savoring the metallic warmth with a slow, seductive swirl. “Mmm… tastes like defiance—delicious,” she murmured, her red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Shikamaru barely registered the sting. His focus was on his plan. He’d been biding his time, calculating the exact moment to make his move. The ropes had give—Kurenai’s grip was firm but distracted, her focus split between seduction and restraint. Shadows stretched long and thin in the room’s corners, within reach if he could shift his weight just right. His wrists were still bound, but his fingers twitched, subtly working the knot, the coarse rope loosening ever so slightly. “Troublesome,” he muttered, his voice a low growl, letting them think he was rattled while he mapped his escape: loosen the wrist knot, tilt the chair, snare Kurenai’s shadow first.

Just a few more seconds…

His muscles coiled, the plan humming with quiet precision, each move a chess piece sliding into place. But Baby’s laughter cut through the haze—a dark ripple that froze him mid-thought. Temari’s body swayed before him, her red eyes glinting with wicked intent, and then—without warning—her form shuddered violently. A sickening squelch filled the room as Baby’s silver essence poured from her mouth, a shimmering, liquid mass twisting unnaturally through the air. Temari’s once-powerful body convulsed, her red eyes rolling back, her smirk fading into lifeless slack as she crumpled to the floor in a heap, the fishnet and lingerie pooling around her like shed skin.

Shikamaru’s breath caught, his escape teetering on the brink, but Kurenai’s grip tightened, her hands like iron on his shoulders, her lips still grazing his neck with a seductive hum. The silver darted toward him, a glistening thread homing in on the fresh cut on his cheek, the sting flaring as Baby’s essence found its mark. “No you don’t,” he growled, thrashing against Kurenai’s hold, his wrist twisting harder against the rope, but her strength—bolstered by Baby’s will—pinned him fast. Her tongue flicked against his ear, whispering, “Stay still, lover, let him in,” as a searing, unholy heat scorched through his skull. The silver slithered inside, cold and invasive, burrowing through the wound with a wet, intimate violation that made him grit his teeth.

Baby’s voice unfurled in his skull, a velvet taunt laced with triumph. “Too slow, clever boy,” it purred, “your shadows can’t save you now.” Shikamaru’s mind raced, a **** flurry of strategy clashing with the encroaching numbness—his body slackening despite his will, his fingers faltering on the knot. The cut burned, the silver threading through his veins, his nerves, a parasite rewriting him from within. Kurenai’s hands slid down his chest, holding him steady, her breath a hot promise against his skin as Temari lay motionless, a discarded shell. “Troublesome,” he rasped, one last defiance before his head lolled, his resistance fraying under the relentless tide. Baby laughed, the sound echoing through his fading consciousness, and Shikamaru’s brilliant mind tipped into darkness as the parasite claimed its prize.