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hrrysangels · 1 month ago

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#ONSET - HS

She’s used to sharing Harry with the world but sharing him with his co-star on a film set? That’s different. The smirks, the lingering touches, the chemistry that looks a little too convincing it all gets under her skin. She tries to hide it, play it cool, but Harry sees right through her. What follows is a moment both heated and tender Harry pulling her into his arms, reminding her exactly who he comes home to. In his trailer, away from the lights and scripts, he makes it clear: no one else matters. No cameras. No performances. Just him. Just her. Always her.

warnings: smut smut smut

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Y/N hadn’t planned to spend the entire afternoon on set, but when Harry mentioned that today was one of the big shoot days “the scene” as he called it with a glint in his eye she couldn’t resist.

She knew how much this role meant to him. From the moment he got the script, he’d been walking around the apartment quoting lines under his breath, talking about the director like she was a genius, gushing over how the story was different, raw, important. He’d worked hard for this one. She was proud of him really, truly proud but nothing quite prepared her for what it would feel like to watch him perform, live and up close.

Especially that scene.

It wasn’t scheduled until later in the day, so she spent the first hour watching him laugh with crew members, run through lines, and transform before her eyes the moment the cameras started rolling. He was magnetic on set, confident in a way that made her heart tug with admiration. She could see why people loved working with him. The way he slipped into character so fluid, so natural was a kind of magic she hadn’t seen in him before.

Then Florence stepped onto the scene.

Y/N liked Florence. Or at least, she thought she did. They’d met a few times cast parties, casual drinks after a read-through. Florence was kind, sharp, charming,gorgeous. A phenomenal actress. But watching her walk toward Harry, her steps sure and practiced, something in Y/N twisted tight. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t fair. But it was real.

They were filming a moment of intimacy not just a kiss, but one of those slow, breathless, tension heavy kisses that said everything words couldn’t. And Harry was good. Too good. The way his hand slipped around Florence’s waist, the way he leaned in like gravity had chosen her, like there was no other place on earth he’d rather be it punched the air right out of Y/N’s lungs

She reminded herself it was acting. It was all pretend. She’d seen the script. She knew. But knowing didn’t stop her skin from prickling, or her stomach from flipping like she’d missed a step on the stairs.

When the director finally called cut, Harry grinned, full of adrenaline and pride. He ruffled his curls back and jogged over to her, still glowing with the energy of the scene. He kissed her cheek, then her forehead, wrapping an arm around her waist as if the last few minutes hadn’t unsettled something inside her.

“You saw that?” he asked, his voice low, sweet, full of excitement. “Was it okay? Did it work?”

“You were… great,” she said, forcing a small smile. Her throat felt dry

He kissed her temple. “Glad you came today.”

She nodded, eyes flicking toward Florence, who was laughing with a makeup artist just a few feet away. “Yeah. Me too.”

Harry didn’t seem to notice the subtle shift in her. He kept talking, telling her how the lighting was perfect, how Florence nailed her beats, how real it felt. And that was the part that got her how real it felt. He said it like it was something to be proud of. Like it was the best compliment he could give the scene. And maybe it was. Maybe that was the mark of a great actor.

But it still made something curl up inside her chest and shrink.

She wasn’t normally a jealous person. Not with Harry. Not with anyone. But today, watching someone else get that version of him the intensity, the intimacy, the softness even if it was just for the cameras, it left her feeling a little quiet.

She leaned into his side as he kept talking, trying to push it down. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t real.

But the strange ache in her chest told her otherwise.

They walked in silence for a while, weaving through equipment, set pieces, and scattered crew. The sun had started to dip behind the studio buildings, casting everything in a soft amber glow. Harry held her hand as they walked his thumb brushing slow, absent-minded circles against her skin but something had shifted. She wasn’t talking. Wasn’t smiling like she usually did when they were wrapped up in each other’s space.

It wasn’t until they reached the quieter stretch between set and his trailer that he really felt it. The tension humming just beneath her skin. The way her fingers weren’t quite curling back into his.

He tightened his grip a little, slowing their pace.

“What’s going on, love?” he asked gently, turning his head toward her. His voice was low, warm but his accent thickened the way it always did when he was being soft with her. “Are you okay?”

She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

But he didn’t let go of her hand. He just watched her, brow furrowed, waiting and eventually, she exhaled, a slow, shaky breath like she’d been holding something in for too long.

“I’m probably just being overdramatic,” she said, eyes downcast. “You were perfect, Harry. Like, really… perfect.”

The way she said it made something click.

Ah.

It hit him all at once — the quiet mood, the hesitations, the way she’d barely looked him in the eye since the scene ended. His chest swelled with a complicated mix of guilt, affection, and something a little smug. She was jealous. Not in an insecure way. Not in a petty way. Just enough to make her overthink, to make her feel things she couldn’t quite say out loud.

And God, he kind of loved it.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile not mocking, not gloating. Just touched. Because the truth was, as much as he loved acting, as much as he’d thrown himself into the character and the scene, there wasn’t a single part of him that felt anything close to what he felt for the girl beside him.

He stopped walking and turned to face her, still holding her hand.

“Hey,” he said softly, catching her chin with his thumb and tilting her face up until their eyes met. “It’s not overdramatic. You’re allowed to feel things.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You know it’s all pretend, yeah?” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Everything that happened in that scene every kiss, every look it’s scripted. It’s not real. This…” His forehead touched hers, breath warm between them. “This is real.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into the space between them, her shoulders relaxing slightly. His hand slipped to her waist, anchoring her to him.

“I just… I don’t know,” she whispered. “Seeing you like that, with someone else, even if it’s acting—it just did something to me.”

Harry nodded. “It did something to me too.”

She looked up, confused.

“Made me realize how much I hate having to pretend it’s someone else,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s always you in my head.”

Her breath caught.

The moment hung there quiet, charged, delicate before he kissed her, slow and sure, right there in the fading light. Not for show. Not because the cameras were rolling. Just because he needed to. Because she was his, and he wanted her to feel it.

Harry opened the door to the trailer with one hand, the other still firmly on her waist. His touch was gentle but guiding, like he was anchoring her, making sure she didn’t drift too far into whatever storm she’d been stuck in since the scene. She stepped in ahead of him, eyes adjusting to the dim light as he pulled the door closed behind them with a soft click.

The air inside was warm, faintly stuffy in that familiar way small spaces get — thick with his cologne and the faint scent of leftover coffee. His jacket was slung over the back of the couch, script pages scattered across the counter beside a half-drunk bottle of water.

Harry’s hand never left her waist. He moved behind her, fitting his chest against her back as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of her hoodie, just enough to graze bare skin.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, voice low, close to her ear.

She leaned into him but didn’t say anything. Not yet. Her arms were still crossed over her chest, not defensive, but not fully relaxed either. He could feel it — the hesitation, the heat still simmering under her skin.

“I don’t want to talk about Florence,” she said softly.

He nodded against her shoulder, his curls brushing her cheek. “Then don’t. This isn’t about her. It’s about you.”

She turned in his arms slowly, her eyes finding his in the muted light. There was something in her gaze — not anger, not sadness exactly, but a flicker of vulnerability she didn’t usually show.

“I know it was acting. I do,” she whispered. “But watching it… it felt like someone else got a version of you I didn’t recognize. And I hated it.”

Harry’s jaw tightened slightly, but only because he understood. Because if the roles were reversed, he’d probably feel the exact same way. Maybe worse.

“You don’t have to explain it” he said gently. “You don’t need to pretend it didn’t sting.”

His hands slid around her back, pulling her closer until her body met his fully, the soft cotton of her hoodie pressing against the firm lines of his chest. Her head tilted back just slightly, lips parting like she might speak but then he dipped down and kissed her.

It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t demanding. It was a slow, grounding kiss the kind that reminded her of who he was when no one else was watching. His lips moved with quiet urgency, but his hands stayed steady, cupping her face, his thumbs brushing the apples of her cheeks.

“You know it’s always you, right?” he said between kisses, forehead pressed to hers. “When I’m in character, when I’m faking it I’m still thinking of you.”

She nodded, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Her hoodie rode up slightly with the movement, revealing the soft curve of her hip. His hands found her there again, thumbs dragging slow, grounding circles.

The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore it was charged, intimate, brimming with words neither of them needed to say.

He backed her gently toward the small couch tucked in the corner, eyes never leaving hers. And when the backs of her knees hit the cushion, he slowed them down, resting his hands on either side of her hips.

“This okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a breath.

She looked up at him, eyes glassy but clear. “Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s more than okay.”

He smiled, small and tender, before kissing her again deeper this time, like he was reminding her that no camera could ever capture what they had. And even in the quiet, cramped space of the trailer, it felt like the whole world had narrowed down to just them.

The trailer felt smaller now, even with the door closed behind them. The quiet was thick with anticipation the kind that left her heart racing and her breath shallow. Harry stood in front of her, his hands on her hips, the heat between them undeniable. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes, as if asking for permission to keep moving, to keep pushing her toward this.

“My girl,” he murmured, the words low and reverent as he leaned in to kiss her again. His lips were soft, slow, and he let the kiss linger before pulling back just enough to study her face, to read her expression. “Let me take care of you, love.”

Her breath hitched, her hands sliding up his chest to rest around his neck as she drew him closer, needing him against her. It was like she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t feel him enough like there was a hunger inside her she couldn’t name.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice a quiet promise as he kissed along her jaw. “You’re mine, yeah? Just say the word, and I’ll make sure you forget about anything else.”

His hands moved with purpose, sliding beneath her hoodie, fingertips grazing the soft skin of her back. He kissed her neck, then her shoulder, the light pressure of his lips making her shiver with anticipation. She felt a flutter of warmth in her stomach, her breath catching in her throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against her skin.

She whimpered softly, unable to hide how much his words affected her, how they stoked the fire that had been burning low in her all day.

His hands shifted, finding her waist again, pulling her body flush against his. He could feel the way she trembled beneath him, the way her pulse raced, and it only made him more determined to show her just how much he adored her.

“My girl,” he said again, the words like a sweet, slow drug. “No one else. Not ever. Just you.”

She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he gently lifted her, guiding her onto the bed. He hovered over her, his gaze never leaving hers, making sure she was okay with every move.

“You want this?” he asked, the question soft but filled with the weight of what he was offering. “Want me to make you feel good?”

The sincerity in his voice, the raw need and tenderness that threaded through it, made her heart skip a beat. She nodded, too overwhelmed to say much more.

He kissed her again, this time with more urgency, the fire between them escalating. But even in his need, he never lost that focus on her on her pleasure, on her feeling loved.

“I’m not rushing this, love,” he murmured against her lips, as his hands began exploring, slow and sure. “I’m going to make you feel every second of this. Every touch.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, the warmth of his touch seeping deep into her skin, and she could only hold onto him as he worked to make her feel cherished, loved, and, above all, seen.

Harry's hands slid under her hoodie, fingertips grazing the soft skin of her stomach. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, like he was worshipping every inch of her. She shivered, arching into him, craving more.

"You're perfect," he murmured, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. "So fucking perfect."

She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging him closer. "Please," she whispered, voice trembling with need. "I want to feel you."

He groaned at her words, hips grinding against hers as his hands slid higher, cupping her breasts through her bra. "God, you drive me crazy," he breathed, thumbs brushing over her nipples until they pebbled beneath the fabric.

She gasped, back arching softly as pleasure shot through her. "Off," she demanded, tugging at his shirt. "I need to feel your skin."

Harry sat back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before quickly removing her hoodie as well. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her. Standing there in her black lace bra.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, leaning down to capture one of her nipples between his teeth through the lace. She cried out, fingers tugging at his hair as he suckled and nipped at the sensitive bud.

He took his time with her, exploring every inch of exposed skin with his hands and mouth. He unhooked her bra with a deft flick of his fingers before pulling it away, revealing her breasts to his hungry gaze.

"Look at you," he said roughly, cupping the soft mounds in his palms. "So fucking beautiful." He lowered his head, licking and sucking at her nipples until she was squirming him, desperate for more. He gently sat her on the couch

"Harry," she gasped, hands fisting in his hair. "I need you."

He kissed his way down her stomach, getting on his knee in front of her his fingers hooking in the waistband of her jeans. "Not yet, love," he murmured.

He unbuttoned her jeans slowly, dragging the zipper down with maddening slowness before tugging them off her legs. She was left in just her panties, pulse racing as she watched him drink in the sight of her, sitting on the couch in nothing but a scrap of lace

"You have no idea what you do to me," he said roughly, trailing a finger along the edge of her panties. "The things I want to do to you."

She whimpered, hips lifting as if seeking friction. "Then do them," she breathed. "Please."

He grinned, before he hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and slowly dragged them down her legs. His gaze zeroed in on the glistening flesh between her thighs, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

"Fuck," he groaned, sliding a finger through her slick folds. "You're so wet for me already."

She bucked against his touch, desperate for more. "Harry, please," she begged.

Shifting between her legs, he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh before trailing open-mouthed kisses up to her core. She nearly screamed as his tongue made contact, licking a slow stripe up her slit before circling her clit.

"Oh god," she moaned, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. "Don't stop."

He growled against her flesh, the vibrations making her see stars. He licked and sucked and fucked her with his tongue until she was a writhing mess beneath him, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Come for me," he demanded, sliding two fingers inside her tight heat as his tongue continued its relentless assault on her clit. "Let go for me, love."

It was too much. The sensation of his fingers pumping in and out of her, his tongue flicking against that sensitive bundle of nerves - she shattered with a cry, coming apart at the seams as pleasure crashed over her in waves.

Harry worked her through it, gentling his touch as she floated down from her high. He kissed his way back up her body, taking a moment to lave attention on each breast before reaching her mouth. She could taste herself on his lips and it only spurred her arousal higher.

"Fuck me," she demanded, wrapping her legs around his hips and pulling him closer. "I need you inside me."

He groaned, grinding his hard length against her aching core. "Patience," he said softly. "I'm going to make this good for you."

He reached down, fumbling with his belt and zipper until his cock sprang free. She licked her lips at the sight, desperate to feel him stretching her, filling her.

"I want to feel all of you."

Harry's eyes darkened with lust. "You sure?" he asked hoarsely.

She nodded frantically, needing him more than she needed air. "Please," she begged.

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a grunt, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt inside her tight heat. They both cried out at the sensation, bodies trembling with the force of it.

"Fuck," he gasped, staying still for a moment to let her adjust. "You feel incredible."

She clenched around him, relishing the feel of his thick cock pulsing inside her. "Move," she urged. "I need you to move."

“needy little thing aren’t you” he teased softly in his British accent

He did, setting a steady pace as he rocked into her again and again. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small space, mixing with their moans and pants.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows, hips never faltering as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. She met him stroke for stroke, relishing the feel of him heavy and hard inside her.

"I love you," he gasped between kisses. "Fuck, I love you so much."

He groaned into her mouth, increasing his pace. "I love you too," She panted. "More than anything."

They moved together in perfect sync, lost to everything but each other. Harry could feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine, but he held off, determined to bring her with him.

He reached between them, finding her clit and rubbing tight circles around it with his thumb. "Come for me again," he urged, voice strained with effort. "I want to feel you come apart around my cock."

His words were her undoing. With a scream of his name, she came hard, clenching around him like a vice. It was enough to send Harry over the edge as well and he followed soon after with a guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside her.

They collapsed together in a sweaty tangle of limbs, chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath. Harry pressed soft kisses to her face, brushing sweat-dampened hair off her forehead.

"That was..." she trailed off, unable to find the words.

"Amazing," he supplied with a grin. "Incredible. Mind-blowing. Life-changing."

She laughed breathlessly, pulling him down for a kiss. "All of the above," she agreed.

They laid there for a long moment, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Harry stayed on top of her on that couch careful not to lay his full body weight on her

"I meant what I said," he murmured into her hair. "I love you. And I know I'm yours - only yours - always."

She pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I love you more," she whispered back.

They stayed like that for a while longer, basking in the intimacy and closeness of the moment. The rest of the world faded away until it was just the two of them, tangled together in their little haven