They plan

The room was bathed in a soft, flickering glow, the remnants of candlelight casting shifting shadows over the tangled forms sprawled across the bed. The sheets lay in a disheveled heap, the air thick with the musk of their earlier exertion—sweat, cum, and the faint tang of victory lingering as Baby, now comfortably settled in Shikamaru’s lean frame, propped himself against the headboard. Kurenai nestled against his side, her black lingerie askew, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his bare chest, while Temari sprawled at his other side, her fishnet stockings torn, her golden hair fanning out as she curled against him, her red eyes glinting with sated devotion. His mind—a masterpiece of stolen brilliance—moved at speeds he’d never known, visualizing every scenario, every flaw, every advantage with a clarity that made time stretch languidly before him.

Baby exhaled softly, Shikamaru’s voice a slow drawl laced with cold deliberation as he broke the silence. “We’ve got Konoha in our hands now, but it’s fragile. We need more—stronger pieces on the board. Let’s think this through.” His fingers tapped idly against the bed, Shikamaru’s intellect spinning through possibilities, each thought a thread in a vast, shadowed tapestry of strategy.

Kurenai tilted her head, her lips brushing his bare shoulder, her voice low and thoughtful. “Kakashi’s the new Hokage—his mind’s sharp, his lightning’s deadly. He’d be a prize, Master.” Baby nodded, his stolen genius already mapping angles. “Kakashi’s a fortress,” he mused, “but **** through bonds—Tenzo, maybe, or his old team. Too soon, though. We need a tighter web before facing him.” Temari shifted, resting her chin on his chest, her crimson eyes gleaming as she spoke, smooth and calculated. “Naruto and Sasuke, then—they’re the real power. Stronger than anyone. Their wives—Hinata, Sakura—could be the way in. Infect them, break their men from the inside.”

Baby smirked, the idea tantalizing, Shikamaru’s mind unfurling the possibilities—Hinata’s gentle trust, Sakura’s fierce loyalty—but he raised a hand. “Not yet. Their wills are dangerous—they’d sense the rot, fight back with raw **** we’re not ready to counter. We wait.” His thoughts sifted through Konoha’s roster, Shikamaru’s memories a treasure trove of secrets, defenses, and weaknesses, and paused on a name. “Shizune,” he said, his grin widening. “Medical jutsu, research skills—she’s Tsunade’s shadow, but less reckless. She’d refine my abilities, make me harder to kill.”

Kurenai hummed in agreement, her fingers stilling on his skin. “She’s close to the Hokage’s circle—quiet, overlooked. Perfect for now.” Temari’s nails scraped lightly across his stomach as she added, “Tsunade’s another option—stronger, smarter—but she’s a wildcard, too stubborn. Shizune’s easier prey.” Baby’s mind raced, weighing other options—Orochimaru and Kabuto, masters of flesh and science, their knowledge a siren call for enhancing his parasitic gifts. “Orochimaru’s a gamble,” he muttered, fingers running through Temari’s hair, “too unstable with his body-hopping—I’d lose control. Kabuto’s the same, all those modifications. Shizune’s cleaner, more predictable.”

He leaned back, Shikamaru’s eyes narrowing as the plan solidified, every scenario branching and collapsing in his borrowed brilliance. “Shizune first,” he decided, his voice a velvet blade. “She’ll build my strength—her medical jutsu, her access to Konoha’s records. Then we climb—Tsunade, maybe, then the wives, and finally the big three: Kakashi, Naruto, Sasuke. Slow, deliberate—Konoha won’t see us coming.” Kurenai and Temari nodded, their devotion a quiet chorus, their bodies pressed close as the night wrapped around their plotting like a shroud.