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pairing ☽˚⁀➷｡ goddess hera!natasha x messenger iris!reader
summary ☽˚⁀➷｡ theres some things her husband doesn't do for her
word count ☽˚⁀➷｡1532
warnings ☽˚⁀➷｡, talks of gods and goddesses, oral, kissing, wlw, fingering
꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎
It should've gotten easier with time.
Everyone said so.
But everyone didn't care what their husbands did. Persephone...Wanda...no Peresphone's husband was loyal to a fault, preferring to dissolve into a pit of depression darker than the deepest hellholes of Tartarus than find another partner during her absence. Monica's- Amphitrite's husband went on various escapades, but now, she simply joined him. Numerous other goddesses simply tolerated disloyalty, saying that eternity was a long time. Natasha, Natasha rather, just close her eyes, take a breath, and get a new hobby.
Natasha wasn't sure why breathing was so hard. It wasn't as though she truly loved the man; he forced her into marriage, tortured her when she rebelled against his rule, and constantly saw other people, men, women, and anyone else with a ready hole for him.
There was no love, no loyalty in this mockery of a political marriage.
Then why did the lies hurt?
It was the principle, she decided, the sheer disrespect. She was a powerful, refined woman undeserving of such lies, such treatment.
She put out her cigarette and stood.
There was someone who did know exactly how to make her feel as she deserved.
Natasha had staff who respected her, of course. Argos loved her without question, always keeping an eye or ten on her and not hesitating to get involved if Zeus bothered to punish her for her disobedience. But he didn't give her what she wanted. What she wanted wasn't something any man could provide.
Rather, she needed a feminine touch.
Zeus had his masculine touch, his prized boy toy and cupbearer, Ganymede. Natasha had a cupbearer, too, but it was her daughter. Natasha had no interest in her own children. Instead, she turned to her colorful messenger.
Natasha made her way to the balcony of her quarters. The sun was still up, as it would be until she willed it otherwise.
"Hebe," she called to her cupbearer.
The girl scrambled in. She never was the graceful one, but Natasha didn't mind. Her children were often her opposite, after all; chaotic, messy, loud, and clumsy, but useful.
