Work Text:
If Yasti had known about all of the benefits that came along with emotionally blackmailing her boss in front of an audience of his peers, she would have done it millennia ago.
In the months since her performance at Crowley’s hearing, she’d successfully intimidated Hastur into not one but two raises, sit-in privileges at multiple Ducal Braintrusts, and, on one memorable occasion, permission to skip the department’s mandatory Karaoke Night.
Her most recent triumph was the acquisition of a communications console for her desk. Now she didn’t need to trot all the way out to the hallway kiosk to access the Earth-based networks that contained all of the lustful, blasphemous content she needed to use for research for proper filing.
Her paperwork days were delightfully rarer, now that she was spending most of her on-the-clock hours getting her hands dirty down in the Flogging Pits. Three thousand years and she was finally moving up in the business, but she technically was still a file clerk, which meant some days she still arrived to the office to find a heap of new forms to mark and stamp waiting on her desk.
Today was one of those days. She sighed, and threw a forlorn glance at Crowley’s empty desk; she still had no idea how he’d managed to get through his entire re-embodiment packet in a single night. It was just unfair, she thought, how some people got to be good at everything.
This morning's stack of 84-Q’s were merely an inconvenience to be dealt with before she got to take the lift down to the Pits. She wasn’t expecting to have any fun with the pages; it would all be the usual bullshit. Misuse of God-given parts for terrible purposes, more work for her.
It was on the admittance sheet of one Gerri Dyne, formerly of Birmingham, that she came across the first thing that’d made her smile all morning. Apparently, alongside the serial adultery that had gotten her soul consigned to Hell, Mrs. Dyne had also been an aficionado of a genre of internet video called ASMR.
Yasti had never heard of it before, but she was who she was, and she knew that if something existed on the internet it had to have porn of it.
A quick Google of asmr porn proved the existence of the stuff, but she had no interest in exploring anything but the cream of the crop. To refine her search, she typed in best asmr porn.
An hour later, she was vibrating with a surfeit of demonic energy as she eagerly consumed carefully curated playlists of whispery, crackly, tap-tappy, supersoft feathery fucking. It was the perfect background soundtrack to her administrative duties.
It was always a good day when she discovered a new fetish. She was in the process of pausing her work to dig out her big green book, and a pen in which to scratch out a descriptive new chapter, when the current video ended and the next one loaded on autoplay.
“I’m auditioning for Hamlet tomorrow,” came a soft voice from the speakers. “Think I’ve got the lines down, but angel wants me to practice some more.”
Yasti’s head snapped up, her beetle-black eyes suddenly wide. The accent was unfamiliar, and the speaker’s face was off-screen. The camera was at waist height, with only his torso visible above the dark surface of a desk, and there were no distinguishing features that Yasti could recognize... but she could swear she knew that voice.
“You do need it,” said another voice, coming from beneath the table, and Yasti’s eyes went even wider. There was only one “angel” she knew with a voice like that, a voice so powerful it had stirred the impossible glimmerings of a conscience out of the blackened depths of her own demonic soul.
No. It couldn’t be.
But then he climbed up from underneath the desk, the fluffy white back of his head facing the camera, and she nearly fell over in her broken desk chair. It was, unholy fucking Hell, it was them!
By the time the angel had commanded the demon to “stand up, undo my things, and show me your lovely cock, darling,” Yasti’s fingers had clenched so hard around the edge of her own desk that its cheap particleboard surface was beginning to crack underneath them.
A sheen of iridescent green sweat appeared on her forehead, and her breaths started coming in quick, labored bursts, as the two men onscreen moved against each other, voices in those delicious accents heavy with arousal.
She may still not have been in possession of a body, but she’d never really gotten the hang of physical, human-style masturbation anyway. Much simpler, and much better, to just to utilize her intrinsic powers, directing the flow of lust straight from the video itself, plus its viewcount of thousands, its dozens of comments, all those humans seeking their pleasure and finding it, right into her system, where it lit up her every nerve in a perfect storm.
Oh, and it wasn’t just the video, though that was lovely enough, and would’ve been nice to pass the time with on a normal day.
It was that it was them. The voyeuristic element of knowing them, and them not knowing she was watching, plus that fundamental, sexy wrongness of seeing an angel and a demon, together, like that, going against everything she’d been taught for millennia— and lastly, of course, there was the fact that they were so obviously in love, deeply and passionately and impossibly in love.
She’d been right, she really had been, when she said that thing, back at the hearing.There really was nothing hotter than true love, and what better proof than the orgasm Yasti had right there at her desk, watching the angel fuck the demon so hard that he saw stars?
The video ended. It had been the last one in the playlist, so the black end-screen just blinked there patiently until Yasti came back down to earth again, breathing deeply but still a little woozy, and raised her head to look up at it.
The username From A and C taunted her in all its hyperlinked glory, promising something along the lines of more where that came from. Then she looked over to her pile of paperwork, only half-completed.
“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all, “but you’re just going to have to wait.”
***
“Any new comments today?”
“You’re worse than me now,” Crowley said, with a smirk. “Breaking news: local angel falls prey to the sin of vanity. If I were still on the payroll, they’d commend me for that.”
“Well, you’re not, and they wouldn’t, because I didn’t,” said Aziraphale huffily. “I’m just curious.”
“Fine. Here, let me check.” Crowley tapped at his phone, pulling up the comments for their most recent video. Then he hissed, “Oh, fuck.”
“What? What is it?” Aziraphale, naturally, went immediately to the worst-case scenario. “Did someone recognize us? Someone we know? I knew I could’ve done better with the accent—”
“Yes— well, no, don’t worry, just— shit, here, look—”
Crowley handed the phone to Aziraphale, who glanced reluctantly down at the screen with all the apprehension of a student about to be reprimanded by the headmaster.
He read:
YASTI_XCX
ok so.................... u won’t let ME watch u wank... but u will show the entire internet all of THIS???????????????
don’t take that the wrong way defs not complaining OML so hot (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)
PS do u need ideas for scenarios? hmu plz. i have Many (*´∀`*)
“Oh, good Lord,” Aziraphale said, but he was smiling.
Crowley grinned back at him. “Surprised it took her this long, honestly.”
“Do you think we ought to take her up on her offer? Solicit some ideas?” asked Aziraphale earnestly.
Crowley cackled, and then sighed, leaning his head against Aziraphale’s arm. “Somehow, angel,” he said, “I don’t think she’s going to give us a choice in the matter.”
***