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lostfirefly · 2 days ago

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Curtain’s down, now it’s you

Okay, boys and girls. I've been writing this fic for months now, writing songs. Again, haha! If you're interested, I already have two musicals (check out the OC section). But a few months ago, while I was at the gym, a song started playing and I pictured Buggy on stage. He and his stupid energy would be perfect for a rock band. So, welcome to another song creation) English isn't my native language, errors may occur. Feel free to share your thoughts :)

Buggy x Reader Masterlist / Buggy x OC Masterlist

Description: Your friend dragged you to the concert of Buggy's band.

Warnings: Songs, NSFW, MDNI!

WC: 3266

The title is taken from my head :)

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“I don't know how you convinced me to come here.” You said, looking around.

The place reeked of alcohol, sweat, and too much anticipation. Bodies were pressed shoulder to shoulder. The speakers throbbed with pre-show bass, vibrating the soles of your shoes.

“Come on! It's gonna be fun!! You gotta see him up close!”

“I don’t even know the band.” You rolled your eyes. “What are they called there?”

“Big Top, Y/N. They put on the best shows and their frontman... God!!” Your friend squealed. “He's so cool. And hot.”

“Oh, god!” You sipped your drink. “I hope it's worth it.”

The stage explodes in red light. “Prepare to be reborn, Y/N.” Your friend whispered.

Screams erupted as the spotlight blasted onto the center mic.

“HELLO, TRASH BAGS!”

The crowd SCREAMED.

“It's him! It's him! It's him!! It's him!! It's him!!!!” Your friend pulled your hand. “Goood!!!! Look at hiiiim!!!”

You glanced at the stage. And saw the frontman.

Hair dyed electric blue, jaw sharp under the stage shadows, eyeliner smeared like war paint. His shirt’s half-open, clinging to a tattooed chest already glistening with sweat. A single glove on one hand. Rings on the other. He didn't strut. He owned the stage.

“Remind me, what's his name?” You asked.

“Buggy-y-y….” Your friend answered with a sigh. “Buggy the Cl-o-o-own..”

His mouth touched the mic. He grinned.

“You miss me?” Buggy said in a hoarse voice, grabbing his crotch.

“Dear Lord, YEEES!!!” Your friend squealed loudly.

“Yeah, I know you did.” Buggy chuckled. “Let’s make some BAD DECISIONS.”

The band behind him was already laughing.

“Y’know, my crew said I should rehearse more and talk less.” He flipped the mic. “So I fired them. You're welcome. So...” Buggy walked along the edge of the stage, dragging his fingers through fans’ outstretched hands. “Who here came to cry?”

Boos.

“Who came to scream?”

SCREAMED.

“Who came to do something illegal and blame it on me?”

THE ROOF BLEW OFF.

“That’s more like it. So.. Let's hit rock in this hole.”

“You walk my tightrope tongue, baby, don’t look down...

Buggy strutted to the edge of the stage, spreading his arms. One wink. One hip thrust. Everyone screams.

One slip and you'll scream my name out loud.

He leaned forward, gripping the mic stand with both hands. His mouth is right on the mic. He smirked.

Yeah, candy-coated lips, wanna shut me up? Come put ‘em to work, sugar, I dare you not to blush.

Buggy licked his bottom lip. Slowly. Then grinded his hips to the beat as the guitar kicked in. He moved his hand down his own stomach. The crowd went feral. He crouched low, tilting his head, and locking his eyes on you.

“OH MY GOOOOD!!! HE'S LOOKING AT US!!!” Your friend screamed, singing along to songs.

Shy little thing in the second row, Bet you taste better than the drinks they pour.

Buggy pointed at you. Two fingers. Direct hit. When the song stopped, you looked around again. The crowd was screaming.

“So, what do you think?” Your friend asked, sipping her jin.

“The song was pretty good, actually.”

“Did you see him looking in our direction?”

"Yeah," You hugged your friend. "Please, just don't leave me tonight for a clown."

"Of course not. Oh, look, look.” Your friend tugged you. “Buggy's coming back to the mic! He's probably going to lick the stand. He always does that, it's his thing.”

“How are you, shitheads?” Buggy asked, gripping the mic. He stuck out his tongue and dragged it over his mic stand. “Fuck! Tastes like trouble. My favorite flavor.”

“HE DID IT!!!!” Your friend squealed again. “Fuuuuck! I’m gonna die, Y/N!! I LOVE YOU, BUGGYYYYY!”

“Of course you do, baby.” Buggy chuckled. “I’m a gift.”

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! He answered me!!!” Your friend practically fainted on your shoulder. “BEST. EVENING. EVER!!”

“Alright.” Buggy took a long drink from a bottle, letting some of it run down his chin. Then he turned back to the mic. “This one’s slow. Real slow.” His voice was deep. “So, if you’re wearing tight pants, maybe… loosen up.”

Lights down, lips up, hush now, baby, That mouth looks better wrapped around maybes.

He smirked, moving his mouth close to the mic, dragging his fingers down the shaft in a deliberate, dirty line.

Talk that big game, now lean into the fire, Wanna hear your breath stutter like a wire.

Buggy mouthed the word "fire" like a kiss. His eyes didn’t blink; they were all on you. He put one leg up on the monitor, pressing his hips forward.

You don’t need air, just me and the bass, Let my name bruise your pretty little face. Don’t choke on it, unless you want to, Don’t hold back, unless you’re gonna crawl through.

He slapped the side of the mic stand. Growled the word "bruise", running a thumb across his lips. He mouthed "choke" and pulled the mic close like it was your neck. His expression? Dark. Filthy. Theatric.

"OH, MY FUCKING GOOOOD! HE NEVER DID IT!!" Your friend squealed again. "HE IS ON FIRE TODAY!!!"

This stage ain’t wide enough for lies, So open wide and let me inside. No encore, no second verse, I leave you aching and half-cursed. I’m the heat you swear you’ll forget, Til your sheets tell you I’m all you regret.

Buggy pulled at his shirt until it hung open completely. His chest was rising. He was breathless now, his voice becoming lower with every word. You could feel it in your spine.

When the song stopped, the crowd roared. Buggy's gaze landed back on you. Again.

You froze. He didn't.

“Oi,” He said into the mic. “This one’s for the sweet thing up front who keeps pretending not to look at me.”

“He's talking to you, Y/N!!” Your friend screeched beside you.

“No, I’m sure he's talking to you.” You kept your eyes on Buggy.

“Don’t play shy now, baby.” Buggy smirked. “You’re not hiding.”

He grabbed a bottle of water, chugged half, and let the rest pour over his bare chest, soaking his shirt until it sticked to every inch of lean muscle.

Buggy licked the corner of his mouth, locking his eyes on your.

“Hope you like slow,” he purred. “This one’s nasty. Hah, totally forgot!” Buggy pulled a fake rose out of his pocket and tossed it into the crowd. “This is for whoever catches it. It smells like me. Good luck explaining that to your boyfriend.”

One night, one lie, One look and you’re mine

Buggy paced the stage, tossing off his shirt completely. His hair was wild. Eyes were black under smeared eyeliner. His chest was rising fast, scarred and inked, sweat gleaming like sin.

Sugar-drunk in leather skin, Tell me, baby, where’ve you been? I see the way you bite that lip, Like you don’t wanna kneel and slip.

Buggy dropped to his knees mid-stage, his tongue was out, jaw was cocked, panting into the mic like it was your mouth. His hand ran all the way down his stomach. The crowd SCREAMED.

"PLEASE DON'T CALL AN AMBULANCE, Y/N, I WANT TO DIE RIGHT HERE!!!: Your friend screamed, rising her hands.

You laughed and shifted your gaze back to the scene.

But I’m the prayer you whisper at 3am, And the sin you wanna try again. I’m your sweet little aftershock, Can’t quit me, can’t clean it off. You’ll wake up sore and say my name, Taste the smoke and feel the flame. I’m the laugh in your holy space, The grin you hide on your pretty face. Yeah, I wreck you, and you love the rot… Your sweet little aftershock. Tell your friends I’m just a phase,

Buggy spun the mic by the cord, catches it behind his back with one hand, and throws his head back laughing like a devil/

Then scream my name for seven days. Wanna hate me? Go ahead, But you’re thinking about me in your bed.

Buggy bit the mic, growling the last word. Crowd lost it. He jumped onto the speaker. Shirtless, screaming. Fire burst behind him. Actual fireworks started going off. He’s howling the final line into the smoke.

Your SWEET—LITTLE—AFTERSHOOOOCK!!!

The lights exploded in a flood of gold. Pyro flames flashed behind the stage and Buggy just stood there in the wreckage. His chest was heaving; his hands were spread wide.

“BIG TOP!! BIG TOOOP!!’ The crowd chanted in chorus. You yourself did not notice how you joined the shouts.

“Thank you, fucking freaks!!” Buggy yelled in response. He did not bow. He soaked it in. "See you next time!"

But right before the blackout… His eyes scanned the crowd one last time. And landed on you. Buggy winked at you right when the lights went out.

The roar of the crowd still rang in your ears when you’re suddenly shoved down a hallway smelling like sweat, cheap beer, and pyrotechnics.

“I TOLD YOU LIKED IT!! MOVE!” Your friend hissed, practically dragging you by the wrist.

"When are we going to the bar?" You chuckled. "You promised me a bar."

“We have VIP access, are you INSANE?! That man literally made eye contact with your soul!”

"He didn't. He's cute... But come on! He's a rock star! I thought you liked him."

"Whatever! The drummer was looking at me too. WE ARE GOING TO MEET THEM!! MOVE YOUR ASS, Y/N!!"

You stumbled into a side corridor just as a security guy waved you through a velvet rope.

Beyond it: flashing lights, crew members hauling amps, laughter, half-naked musicians”

“WELL, WELL, WELL.”

Buggy. Now stripped of stage lighting and fireworks.

“Oh, dear god! Somehow, he looks more dangerous now,” Your friend whispered. "Dangerous and sexy."

Buggy leaned against the wall with a bottle of something definitely not water. One boot was pressed behind him, the other toe tapping out a rhythm only he can hear.

“Front row sweetheart,” he said. ��I was hoping you'd make it.”

Your friend makes a dying dolphin noise.

“Can I ask for an autograph?” Your friend said, pulling out a disc of their recent single.

“Sure.” Buggy pulled a felt-tip pen out of his back pocket, pulled the cap off with his teeth, and signed his name. “Here you go, baby.”

“He called me baby, Y/N.” Your friend giggled quietly.

Before you can answer, the drummer, a tall, dark-eyed flirt with two lip rings, swooped in.

“You two are the lucky winners?” he asked. “Cool. Come hang. Unless your friend’s got stage fright.” He wrapped an arm around your friend.

“See you later, Y/N!!” Your friend went immediately. “Where are we going?!” She asked the drummer.

“First, somewhere where it is loud, second, where it is private.” He smirked. “You like tequila, right?”

They disappeared around the corner, leaving you completely alone with Buggy.

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“You didn’t follow her.” Buggy raised a brow.

“Nope.”

“You’re not gonna ask for a selfie?”

“Nope.”

“Autograph on your…" He made a slow gesture toward your chest. “...favorite body part?”

“Do you want me to?” You blinked at him.

He laughed. It’s real. Deep. A little raspy from screaming on stage.

“God, I thought you were gonna be easy.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” You tilted your head.

Buggy stepped closer. Slowly.

“You’re not disappointing anything, sweetheart.” He put one hand on the wall beside you.

Your breath caught, but you didn't step back. “So, what now? Are you gonna try one of your lines?” You crossed your arms.

“Only if you promise not to fall for me right away.”

“Guess we’re both safe, then.”

“Damn,” Buggy murmured, sipping his drink. “You’re fun. But I’m not done with you.”

“Only if you ask nicely.” You winked.

Buggy took a slow sip of his whiskey, his gaze never leaving yours. There was something about your resistance that intrigued him. Most people in this situation would be fawning, eager for a moment of his attention. But you stood apart, your expression was cool and detached. It was a challenge, and Buggy was never one to back down from a challenge.

“You gonna keep pretending,” He leaned down until his lips brushed your ear. “Or are you finally gonna let me see how that mouth of yours works offstage?”

“You’re giving yourself too much credit,” You replied, taking his bottle and taking a sip. “I’m just not into the whole rockstar ego thing. It’s a bit… tired.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away.

There was something about him, something raw and unfiltered, that kept you rooted to the spot. It wasn’t attraction, exactly, but curiosity. You wanted to see what he’d do next, how far he’d go to crack your composure.

“Come with me,” Buggy said, his voice was barely above a whisper. “Let me show you what you’re missing.”

You hesitated, your instincts screaming to walk away. But there was a challenge in his eyes, a dare you couldn’t resist.

“Fine,” You said, returning the bottle in his hand. “But don’t expect me to be impressed.”

"We'll see."

Buggy led you through the backstage area, his hand brushing against the small of your back in a way that was both casual and deliberate. You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the absurdity of the situation. You both entered his room and stopped in front of a large wooden table, cluttered with papers, empty bottles, and a half-eaten sandwich.

Buggy gestured grandly. “My throne,” he said with a grin. “Where all the magic happens.”

“This is where you seduce women?” You raised your eyebrows. “On a table covered in trash?”

“Ah, but it’s not the setting that matters,” Buggy said, stepping closer to you. “It’s the company.”

Before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer. Your breath caught in your throat as his lips crashed against yours. It was rough, demanding, and completely unexpected. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his other hand pressing against the small of your back, holding you in place.

“You’re not as immune as you think,” Buggy murmured against your lips, his breath was hot and laced with whiskey.

“Let go of me,” You pushed against his chest.

“Not a chance. You’re mine now, whether you like it or not.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Buggy silenced you with another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a skill that belied his rough exterior, and despite yourself. His hand slid down your back, gripping your hip, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together.

“Admit it,” He whispered, his voice sounding like a low growl. “You want this as much as I do.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t deny it. There was something about his dominance, his unapologetic desire, that was impossible to ignore. You wanted to hate it, to push him away, but instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your hands resting on his chest.

“That’s what I thought.” Buggy’s smirk turned into a triumphant grin.

He backed you toward the table, his hands roaming over your body with a confidence that was both infuriating and exhilarating. Your heart raced as he lifted you onto the table, your legs dangling over the edge.

“You’re not as tough as you pretend to be,” Buggy said, stepping between your legs. “Deep down, you’re just like the rest of them.”

“Prove it.” Your lips curved into a defiant smile.

Buggy’s eyes flashed with challenge, and without another word, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was hungry and relentless. His hands moved over your body, pulling you closer, his touch both rough and tender. You moaned softly, your hands tangling in his hair, your resistance finally giving way to the heat building between both of you.

“Still think I’m all ego?” Buggy asked, breaking the kiss and looking down at you.

“Maybe… just a little.” Your voice was barely a whisper.

Buggy chuckled, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His eyes raked over your, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and you felt a flush creep up your neck.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “And you’re mine.”

You didn’t respond, too caught up in the moment to form words. Buggy’s hands moved lower, his fingers tracing the waistband of your jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt a shiver run down her spine.

“Tell me to stop,” he said. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

You bit your lip, your heart was pounding in your chest. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, you reached for him, your hands pulling him closer.

“That’s what I thought.” Buggy’s grin widened.

He pushed your jeans down, his hands moving over your skin with a hunger that left you breathless. Your head fell back against the table, your body arching toward him as his lips trailed down your neck, his hands were exploring every curve of your body.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured. “And you’re mine.”

“You told this already.” You smiled.

“Fuck it.” Buggy’s hands moved lower, his fingers brushing against your core.

You gasped; your body was tensing in anticipation.

“Relax,” he said, his voice was gentle despite the roughness of his touch. “Let me take care of you.”

You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed as he began to move, his fingers slipping inside her, his touch both firm and tender. You moaned softly, your body started responding to his touch with a desperation that surprised you.

“Holy mother f-” You whispered.

“That’s it,” Buggy murmured. “Let go.”

Your breath quickened, your body trembling as pleasure built inside you. Buggy’s fingers moved faster, his touch relentless, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your orgasm looming closer with every passing second.

“Buggy,” you whispered.

“Say it.” He looked up. “Say it again.”

“Buggy,” you repeated, your voice was louder this time. “Please.”

“Say it.” He smirked, his fingers slowing just enough to keep you on the edge. “Beg.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t hesitate. “Please,” You said with a desperate whisper. “I need you.”

Buggy’s eyes flashed with satisfaction, and he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. His fingers moved faster, his touch sending you over the edge, and you cried out, your body shaking as your orgasm washed over you.

When it was over, you lay panting on the table. Buggy’s lips curved into a smug smile as he leaned back.

“Still think I’m all ego?” he asked.

“Hmm..” You managed a faint smile. “Maybe… just a little.”

“Good.” Buggy chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

You didn’t respond, too caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened. You knew you should feel guilty, should push him away, but instead, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction. Buggy may have been full of ego, but he’d also shown you a side of yourself you didn’t know existed. A side that was reckless, desire-driven, and utterly unapologetic.

And as Buggy leaned down to kiss you again, you realized that you weren't as immune to his charm as you’d thought.

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