SpiderMoth Lives!

Banger

(A/N: SLIGHTLY SUGGESTIVE CONTENT! Sooo... 16+ ig 😅)

Angel feverishly scrubs the cleaning cloth over the weapon in his hand.

"Oh~ Baby's gonna be so mad at me!" He squealed. However, with the shrug of his shoulders he mumbled, "It'll all be worth it, though." Soon, she'll be coming home, and she'll be expecting Angel to have the house cleaned, the table set and the food laid out, since she did all of the cooking. Well, nothing to worry about in regards to that since he chose to do it. He figured he owed her a solid —after all, each Thanksgiving week was super stressful for her. It was always chaotic, everybody wanted a piece of Vaggie every Thanksgiving week each year: Vaggie, let's have a Girl's Night out again! I know we did it last week and you just wanna go home and all, but I swear it'll be so much more fun! Oh, Vaggie, could you be a dear and take care of all of last week's paperwork for me and find those forms for the new amends to the hotel? Hey, Vaggie, could you check on that cheap booze shipment for me? Vaggie, can you help me clean a couple floors? It'll only take a couple days! Oh, Vaggie could you do this, and that, and that, and this and this and that and—

Angel frowned deeply, feeling a headache start to come. He grabbed his head for a moment.

It wasn't fair. Everybody wants to get her attention —everybody gets to have her attention! Everybody but him...

Him, the darling semi-stay-at-home boyfriend who not only takes care of the easy, domestic ish at home, but also the manual labor part —landscaping, repairing, keeping Fat Nuggets on his best behavior, and more! On top of all that he still works! So, one would think that given all that he does, his lil' ol' bug would be much more adamant about being with him! In fact, that was why he decided to start staying at home more often —to be with the family: Vaggie, Fat Nuggets, and himself!

Angel sighs. Complain as much as he'd like, for he knew that in the end, these back-to-back fiascos hardly  happened by Vaggie's choice. It was always more like she was forced to go along with everyone else's plans. If not that, then she was coerced. Angel was aware of how he could've taken advantage of this need-to-please nature of his Doll, but he didn't want it that way: he didn't want her to be spending time with him because he tricked her into doing so, he wanted her to make time for him on her own accord; the same way he did for her. Is that really asking for too much? Just some more damn attention?!

Slam!

Angel grinned and dashed out of the room, hiding his toy in his back pocket. He poked his head out of the hallway to look down at Vaggie: his cute lil' ol' bug! "Hey, baby, how's it going?" He asks casually. Vaggie groans and tosses herself into a nearby chair. He could tell right from that action alone that she was pissed and ready to rant. "Terrible!" She seethed. Ah, here it comes.

The heated words spill out of Vaggie's volcano of a mouth. Based on what she was saying, it sounded to Angel that almost everybody back at the hotel was on her hit-list today: Alastor (but when is he never?), Husk (which is surprising, because he normally gets along rather well with Vaggie... kind of), Nifty (understandable: Vaggie always hated how "handsy" that little alien was), Criminy (similarly to Alastor, this was expected; she was an asshole, and two assholes together either hit it off or hate each other from day one), and even Charlie (well, even best friends fight, he supposed. Plus, they're exes!). Angel nods and occasionally adds something to the conversation, to which she would mindlessly bob her head in agreement before going on with her rant. At some point, her rant is reaching its peak, and the poor moth's hardly catching her breath in enough time to continue ranting.

"And then... and then, that idiot Nifty and that dumb-faced bitch Criminy... they..." Vaggie was breathing in short, quick takes. She suddenly inhaled deeply, and let's out a long exhale. "And then...!" Ah, she's not gonna be able to continue for a bit. Angel huffs and pulls her into his arms, squishing her face into his fluffy chest. "Ah, ah, ah, don't you worry 'bout that anymore, Doll. How's about I make yah feel better? Sound good?" Vaggie looks up at him questioningly. "What're you gonna do?" She asks. "Oh, only the best I can." He whispers. His low voice rasps in just the perfect way, and Vaggie smiles at him. She's ready to be handled, then!

"Do me a favor, yah sexy gal: turn that way," he points in the other direction. Vaggie smirks, and ever so slowly does she turn around. With her back towards him, she asks, "Ok, what now?" Smirking, Angel says, "Assume the position." She presses her palms flat against the table and leans over until her torso is almost directly against the cool surface. Her dress —being tailored to fit her body so perfectly— hikes up a bit on its own. Not so much to be shameless, but enough to be scandalous, nonetheless.

Angel runs his hand up her thigh until he reaches a certain point along her hip. He pinches and pulls, letting the hem of Vaggie's panties pop against her. "Stop playing games, Angel." She says, even though her amused laughter paints a totally different vibe. "Whatever you say, toots!" He slaps his hand over her hip again and grips her tightly. His fingers are digging into her flesh just enough to feel it, but hardly enough to hurt. Vaggie chuckles. "Anywho, yah had a stressful week, haven't yah?" He began. Angel leans over, planting a small, wet kiss at the nape of Vaggie's tailbone. He then peppers these kisses across her spine. "Annoying ass coworkers, huh? Why haven't you kicked any of there asses yet?" Vaggie scoffed. "Well, somebody needs to be an example there! Charlie's so wrapped up in the idea of her hotel, she doesn't even think about how to run it! And Alastor —Oh, don't even get me started on him!" She groans at the very mention of her frustrating coworkers. Angel laughs, kissing the back of her neck and along her jawline. He finds the nook of her neck and kisses her there, somewhat tickling Vaggie with his fanged teeth and holding her close. "Well, lemme take some of that stress off of you, hm? How's that?" Angel reaches for his favorite tool, bending his knees a little for quick take off. Clutching it in his hands, he teases Vaggie with it. "How does that feel?" He asks. Vaggie closes her eyes and hums. "Good... but it could be better. Keep going..." and so he does, pressing further.

Suddenly, the feeling is gone. Vaggie thinks about opening her eyes, but just then —

BANG!

Vaggie screams and jumps up. She looks to see a devilishly smug Angel twirling that same damn toy gun with the "bang!" banner thing that she could've sworn she's thrown out like a hundred times by now! Flabbergasted, Vaggie struggles to say what she's trying to say. "Angel, is that?— Did you just?— I—" Angel makes a goofy and smug expression. "Happy Thanksgiving, Vaggie! And more importantly," he smirks even wider. "Happy birthday, Doll!" Vaggie begins to grow red in the face and mumble incoherent words in Spanish. She lunges at him and Angel skillfully dodges. He makes a mad dash out of the house and into the backyard and Vaggie follows. They spend a good thirty minutes like this before their relatives arrive for the celebration, and only then do they call a truce.

Angel later on talks to Vaggie about their lack of time together, and she promises to do better. How better will she do: who's to say? Either way, Angel was able to rest easy that night, knowing that at least for tomorrow, his lil' ol' moth will be there in his arms in the morning just as she is that night.