Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Baker Does Them
By : gee25
Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes
Views: 545 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is AI Generated.
Chapter List
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The profound connection from the cupcakes had faded, leaving a dull, hollow ache in its place. Sleep, when it finally came for Harry, was not an escape. It was an invasion.
He dreamed of her. Not the memory of her, but her essence, a pervasive presence that coiled through his subconscious like scented smoke. In the dream, he was back in the bakery, but the counters were made of warm, living flesh, and the air tasted of dark chocolate and desire. Lilitha was there, a constant, shifting silhouette just at the edge of his vision.
“You are so much more than a baker, Harry,” her voice whispered, not through his ears but directly into the core of his being. It was a silken rope wrapping around his will, pulling gently, insistently. “You are a conqueror. A god of pleasure. You have known power, true power, and you let them convince you it was a burden. Let me give it back to you. Let me show you what you are truly meant to be.”
He felt a warmth spread through his limbs, a liquid heat that pooled low in his belly. In the dream, he was already hard, aching with a need that felt older than time. He felt her phantom hands on him, stroking, teasing, stoking a fire that threatened to consume him from the inside out.
“Your friends… they see you as just Harry. The Boy Who Lived. The man who bakes bread.” Her mental voice dripped with contempt, then softened into a purr. “But we know better, don’t we? They should see you as I see you. They should worship you. They should ache for you. All you need to do is… share.”
Images flashed in his mind: a new recipe. ‘Sinuous Sin Brownies of Devotion’. The ingredients seared themselves into his sleeping brain. His fingers twitched against the sheets as if measuring out cocoa and a strange, iridescent salt she provided.
The dream shifted. He was no longer alone. A figure emerged from the warmth—Hermione, but not as he knew her. Her eyes were glazed with a desperate hunger, her lips parted as she whispered his name, not as a friend, but as a plea. Then it was Ginny, her athletic body moving with a sensual grace meant only for him, a look of raw, unabashed lust on her face. The visions were intociating. They want me. They need me.
“Yes…” Lilitha’s affirmation was a caress. “They will. They will be yours. Your thralls. Your devoted. And their ecstasy… their beautiful, trembling surrender… will be our feast. Say you will, Harry. Say you will do this for me. For us.”
In the depths of his corrupted sleep, where resistance was a forgotten concept and his every primal impulse was amplified a thousandfold, there was only one answer. “Yes.” The word was a sigh of submission, a vow etched into his soul.
He woke with a gasp, the early morning light doing nothing to dispel the heat clinging to his skin. The dream was gone, but its command was not. It was a physical pressure in his skull, a throbbing imperative in his groin. He was painfully erect, his sheets tangled around his legs. The memory of Hermione’s dreamt desire, of Ginny’s imagined hunger, was as vivid as any real memory. A possessive, lustful urgency coursed through him. Mine.
He didn’t question it. The need was his own now, a twisted vine of desire and dominance that had taken root in the fertile soil of his boredom. He moved to the kitchen on autopilot, the cookbook already open to the correct page. He worked with a single-minded intensity, his movements precise, efficient. He didn’t ponder the morality; the part of him that might have cared was buried under a tidal wave of pure want. He could almost smell their skin, hear their moans. Soon.
As he stirred the final, shimmering ingredient into the batter, the air behind him shifted.
“Someone is eager this morning,” Lilitha purred, her presence flooding the room.
Harry turned. He didn’t jump, didn’t startle. He simply looked at her, his green eyes burning with a new, dark fire. “You’re here.”
“I am always here, my delicious corruptor,” she said, gliding toward him. Her form was more substantial today, her dark skin radiant, her curves almost painfully alluring. She eyed the pan of brownies cooling on the rack. “The offering is ready. And so,” she added, her gaze trailing down his body, noting the prominent bulge in his trousers, “are you.”
She didn’t wait for an invitation. She closed the distance between them, her hands immediately going to his waistband, popping the button free. “A small appetizer before the main course. To focus your intentions.”
Her hand slid inside, wrapping around his length. He hissed, his head falling back. Her touch was electric, perfectly calibrated to the new, heightened sensitivity she had forged in him. She stroked him, a slow, knowing rhythm, her thumb swirling over the head, spreading the bead of moisture that already gathered there.
“Think of them,” she commanded, her voice low and hypnotic. “Think of the pretty little witch you will invite over first. Imagine her biting her lip as she eats your treat. Imagine the dazed, worshipful look in her eyes as the magic takes hold. Imagine her begging you to touch her.”
He groaned, the images slamming into him with visceral force. He thrust into her fist, his hips moving of their own accord.
“Imagine her on her knees for you,” Lilitha continued, her own breath quickening. She dropped to her own knees before him, looking up with those smoldering coals for eyes. “Your trick… is my treat.”
She took him into her mouth.
The world dissolved into wet, silken heat. Her mouth was a miracle of suction and rhythm, her tongue doing things that made his knees buckle. He braced himself against the counter, a guttural groan tearing from his throat. She consumed him, her head bobbing, her hands gripping his hips, pulling him deeper. The feedback loop from the cupcakes was gone, but this was something else—a direct conduit of his pleasure straight to her. He could feel her savoring it, drawing it out of him, feeding on each twitch, each pulse.
“Lilitha…” he gasped, his fingers tangling in her hair.
She increased her pace, taking him all, until the head of his cock hit the back of her throat and she swallowed around him. The sensation was unbearable. The pressure built, a coil pulled taut in his very core. The images of his friends, submissive and wanting, mixed with the unbelievable reality of the demoness on her knees, serving him.
He came with a broken shout, his release pouring down her throat. She drank it down greedily, a low, satisfied hum vibrating through him, prolonging the bliss into near-pain. She didn’t stop until he was completely spent, swaying on his feet.
She rose, licking her lips, her eyes blazing with stolen power. “Now you are ready.” She gestured to the brownies, now cut into perfect, decadent squares. “Go on. Make the call. Invite your friend. I’ll be watching.”
She faded into the shadows, leaving only her scent and the pounding of his heart behind. Without a second thought, Harry picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over Ginny’s name. His voice was a low, confident rasp he barely recognized when he spoke.
“Ginny? It’s Harry. I’ve… I’ve made something special. You have to come try it.”
*
The phone felt heavy and alien in Harry’s hand, a tool of corruption. Ginny’s voice had been bright, curious, and effortlessly familiar on the other end of the line. “Brownies? From you? Blimey, Harry, are you finally branching out from sourdough? I’ll be right over.” He’d hung up, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs, part guilt and part predatory anticipation.
He arranged two of the ‘Sinuous Sin Brownies of Devotion’ on a small porcelain plate. They looked innocent enough, rich and fudgy, but they seemed to absorb the light around them, a deep, tempting void. The air in the bakery was already thickening, saturated with the dark aroma of chocolate and something else, something hungry. He could feel Lilitha’s presence like a sun-warmed stone in the corner of the room, a gathering shadow that pulsed with silent encouragement.
The bell above the bakery door jingled, slicing through the tense silence. Ginny breezed in, a burst of vibrant energy. Her fiery red hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and she wore a fitted Quidditch jersey that highlighted her toned, athletic frame. Her smile was wide and genuine.
“Alright, Harry? This is a nice surprise. The place smells amazing, as always.” She strode toward the counter, her confident gait so achingly familiar.
“Always baking something,” Harry said, his voice a little too tight. He pushed the plate toward her. “These are… new.”
“They look deadly,” she said, picking one up without hesitation. She took a large, generous bite.
He watched, mesmerized, as she chewed. For a moment, nothing happened. She swallowed, licking a crumb from her full lower lip. “Merlin, Harry, that’s incredible. What’s in the—?”
Her sentence fractured. Her bright, expressive eyes, which had been fixed on his, suddenly glazed over. They widened, not in shock, but in a kind of dawning, overwhelming awe. The remainder of the brownie fell from her fingers, crumbling on the counter.
“Harry…” she breathed, his name a soft, worshipful sigh on her lips.
The change was instantaneous and absolute. Her posture softened, the confident fighter’s stance melting away into something pliant, receptive. She looked at him as if he had just hung the moon and stars solely for her. Her gaze travelled over his face, down his body, and back up, burning with a need so intense it was palpable.
“Ginny?” he asked, testing the waters.
A delicate shudder ran through her. “You said my name,” she whispered, as if he’d bestowed a great honor upon her. “Say it again.”
Lilitha’s influence was a hot coal in his gut, stoking his own desire. The last vestiges of his hesitation burned away, replaced by a roaring, possessive fire. She is yours. All yours. He rounded the counter, stopping mere inches from her. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her familiar scent now layered with the intoxicating aroma of the brownies and her own rising arousal.
“Do you want me, Ginny?” he asked, his voice a low, commanding rasp he barely recognized.
A desperate, needy sound escaped her throat. “Yes. Oh, god, yes, Harry. I’ve wanted you for so long. I’ll do anything. Please.” Her hands fluttered at her sides, as if she didn’t dare touch him without permission.
That submission, from the fierce and formidable Ginny Weasley, was the most potent aphrodisiac he’d ever experienced. He closed the final distance, his hand coming up to cup her jaw. Her skin was fever-hot. She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed, a tear of pure, overwhelmed bliss tracing a path down her cheek.
He captured her mouth with his. It wasn’t a kiss of gentle exploration; it was a claiming. She yielded to him completely, her lips parting instantly to allow his tongue to plunge inside. She tasted of dark chocolate and a sweetness that was uniquely, addictively Ginny. Her moan vibrated against his mouth, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush against him. The hard lines of her Quidditch-toned body molded to his, and he could feel the frantic hammering of her heart against his chest.
His hands slid down her back, over the curve of her arse, gripping her firmly through the thin fabric of her shorts. He lifted her easily, settling her onto the flour-dusted prep counter behind them. Bowls clattered, but the sound was distant, unimportant. He stepped between her legs, pushing them wider, and the musky, sweet scent of her desire flooded his senses. She was already wet; he could feel the damp heat soaking through her shorts.
“I need you, Harry. Right now,” she begged, her voice ragged, her fingers scrambling at the hem of his shirt.
He made quick work of her clothing, pulling her jersey and shirt over her head in one swift motion. Her breasts spilled free, lush and perfect, her nipples already pebbled into tight, eager peaks. He lowered his head, taking one into his mouth, and her back arched off the counter with a sharp cry. He suckled her, his tongue circling, his teeth grazing gently, and her cries became a continuous, pleading mantra of his name.
His own clothes became a frustrating barrier. He tore at them, and she helped, her movements clumsy with need. When he was finally free, his erection sprang out, hard and aching. He looked down at her, sprawled across his baking counter, her skin flushed, her eyes dark with desperate devotion. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her slick heat. Her eyes locked with his, wide and pleading. “Please, Harry. I’m yours. Take me. Make me yours.”
With a guttural groan, he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth, devastating motion.
Ginny’s scream was one of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Her inner muscles clenched around him, a vise-like grip of velvet heat so intense it stole his breath. She was everything—tight, wet, and trembling, her entire being focused on the point where they were joined.
He set a relentless pace, each powerful thrust slamming the counter into the wall. The sounds were obscene and glorious: the slap of skin on skin, their ragged breaths, her high, keening cries with every drive of his hips. He gripped her thighs, pushing them back toward her shoulders, opening her up completely, allowing him to plunge even deeper.
“Yes! Right there! Oh, Merlin, Harry, don’t stop!” she sobbed, her hands fisting in his hair, pulling him down for a messy, desperate kiss.
He could feel it then—a new sensation weaving through his own pleasure. A warm, buzzing energy was beginning to flow from her, a tangible current of her climax building, cresting, and being pulled away into the shadows of the room. He glanced over and saw Lilitha, fully manifested now, leaning against the far wall. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, a look of sublime satisfaction on her face as she feasted on the energy pouring from them. Her dark skin glowed with a faint, ethereal light, and a soft, continuous moan of pleasure hummed in the air around her.
The sight of the demon consuming Ginny’s ecstasy only drove Harry harder, faster. He was the conductor, the source of this symphony of pleasure, and Lilitha was the grateful audience. He pounded into Ginny, over and over, chasing his own release, fueled by hers.
Ginny’s pleas became incoherent, her body tightening like a drawn bowstring. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’, and a scream, raw and primal, was torn from her soul as her orgasm absolutely wrecked her. Her body convulsed around him, milking him, pulling him irrevocably over the edge with her.
His own release was a volcanic eruption, a white-hot flood that seemed to have no end. He cried out, pouring himself into her, his hips jerking erratically as he rode the waves of pure, unthinking bliss. Through the haze, he felt the energy flow intensify, a final, powerful surge that made Lilitha gasp and shudder violently in her shadowy corner.
He collapsed forward over Ginny, spent, his face buried in the sweaty curve of her neck. They were both panting, slick with sweat, trembling in the aftermath. Ginny’s arms came up to wrap around him, holding him close, her touch still radiating that same bottomless devotion.
After a long moment, a slow, sensual clapping sound echoed softly in the bakery. Harry lifted his head. Lilitha was watching them, her eyes glowing with satiated power.
“A delectable performance,” she purred, her voice rich with pleasure. “The redhead has such… vibrant energy. A truly satisfying feast.” Her gaze shifted to Harry, burning with promise. “Now… who will you invite to taste your treats next, my baker?”
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Baker Does Them	By : gee25 Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 545 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This is AI Generated.

Baker Does Them