**M.W.A.

[museswithattitude]

MUSES W/ ATTITUDE; hello. welcome to the indie, selective multimuse blog with muses from several source material. penned by jay, he/him, 25+. this blog is a hate-free zone. for my own personal comfort, i will only interact with muns above the age of 18. #museswithattitude

carrd . inbox . 

MUSES:

MARVEL:  Falcon, Bishop, War Machine, M'Baku, and Killmonger.

DC:  Green Lantern (John Stewart), Mister Terrific, Static(Virgil Hawkins), Martian Manhunter, Bronze Tiger.

ANIME ( including side blogs):  Dutch (Black Lagoon), Yasuke ( @african-samurai ) , @kumogakuremuses​

VIDEO GAMES:  Jax Briggs (Mortal Kombat), Cyrax (Mortal Kombat), Balrog (Street Fighter), Raven (Tekken) Barret Wallace @notoriousbigwallace

DISNEY:  Wasabi (Big Hero 6)

OTHER MUSES:  Winston Zeddemore.

[viduanata]

By the time of their outing, she was dressed more casual, not wanting to deal with the hassle of walking through the street in a very nice gown that not even she could replace. The environment reminded her a lot of some of the neighborhoods in New York, filled with street life like cookouts and loud music. Especially the jazz bands. The sound of her leather boots hitting the pavement was drowned out by the noise.

She found the Golden City to be gorgeous. Filled with culture and the smell of the local food and restaurants. Natasha noticed some older women sitting on an iron table outside a cafe that was still open, discussing something in a language she had yet to learn as they drank coffees. How could one not enjoy this?

As she was led inside towards the dance floor, Natasha grinned up at him. She took his hand, letting him pull her towards him. Her arms wrapped around his wide shoulders.

[prideofwakanda]

The jazz festival spilled through the Golden City in waves of sound—brass horns cutting warm and bright through the night, drums rolling steady beneath them. Lanterns hung between balconies and market awnings, casting gold light over dancers and onlookers alike. Musicians played from raised platforms and street corners, improvisation alive in every note, the rhythm pulling people from tables and sidewalks into motion.

When she accepted his hand, T’Challa drew her fully onto the floor. He moved with easy confidence, shoulders loose, steps smooth and grounded in the beat. One hand settled at her back as he guided the tempo, letting the music lead them both. Around them, the crowd widened instinctively, eyes drawn to the King as he danced with the Queen—not for spectacle, but with a natural grace that made the moment feel shared, intimate, and alive.

"You are a professional in this expertise. Don't make me freeze," he teased." Tell me, my love. The trouble that occupies your mind and I shall see it cease to exist."

[viduanata]

Natasha sighed, essentially trapped between him and the crowd as she moved along with him. "I will tell you the truth in private." She stated. "But for now, I'll tell you this. Your mother wants us to have children. She asked me if I was ready for that."

It wasn't so much that Natasha didn't want children. She did. She even tried with Alexei. She just had so much trauma based around motherhood that she never considered it again.

Perhaps, now that she was starting to settle down again, it would work this time. She knew that Ramonda wasn't trying to be rude with her statement. It just took her by surprise.

[viduanata]

Natasha grinned, sitting back with her weight on her hands. Her legs were spread wide, the morning sunlight from the large window showing him that she was now aroused.

"I'm all yours then, my love..." She sat up on her knees, her hands on his hips. Natasha felt the material of the woven fur blanket dig into her knees. Looking up at him, she took his cock in her hands and began to jerk him off. She didn't stop making eye contact with him, until she decided that he was ready.

Positioning herself so she was on all fours, Natasha rubbed him one last time before taking him in her mouth. Having grown accustomed to how well endowed he was by now, she knew that she wouldn't be able to take him completely. Unlike all of her other male lovers in the past.

Natasha moaned around his length, taking him as far into her throat as she could manage. After a moment of getting used to the feeling, she bobbed her head faster. She could feel herself getting more aroused, enough to the point of using her one free hand to start touching herself. Her moans were muffled around the size of his cock.

Okoye couldn't help but glance over, watching as this outsider from Russia satisfied her King, the man she's known for what felt like her whole life. Who did this woman think she was, anyway? She was a trained spy. Once a part of the most powerful security agencies in the world during the Soviet Union's glory. Was there some sort of ulterior motive to becoming a queen of such a powerful country?

[prideofwakanda]

T’Challa’s breath caught despite his discipline, a low sound slipping from his chest as his hand curled into the furs beside her. His eyes closed briefly, jaw tightening as he fought for composure, the king giving way to the panther for a heartbeat. When he opened them again, they were dark with warmth and awe, his voice a quiet murmur of her name—control shaken, not broken, by the intimacy he trusted only to her.

By a galaxy, she was the most skilled he had ever known. His hands found her instinctively, fingers threading through her hair with slow, reverent care, guiding without force, holding without urgency." You please...your King astonishing."

Okoye did not look away.

Her grip tightened on her spear as she watched Natasha devour the King, the room heavy with heat and reverence. It wasn't just the act itself that stirred her unease, but the way Natasha moved with him — unafraid, unhesitating, as if she already belonged in that space.

“Desire is easy,” Okoye murmured under her breath, jealousy sharpening her tone just enough to betray it.

Natasha’s pace was deliberate, unhurried, each movement drawing a sharper response from him than the last. T’Challa’s breath broke this time—no effort to hide it—as his hand slid into her hair, fingers tightening just enough to betray how close his control was to slipping. His chest rose hard beneath her touch, a low sound vibrating out of him despite himself. Heavy droplets of pre-cum spilled from his strong, thick member.

T’Challa’s hand stilled her, his voice low and steady as he murmured, “Стой… ляг назад,” the command gentle but unmistakable as he guided her to recline, eyes never leaving hers.

[viduanata]

starter for @museswithattitude

Natasha stepped out of the royal chambers, her floor length black gown with gold embroidery fit snug on her body as it showed off her curves. In an instant, two Dora Milaje walked with her on either side as they headed towards the throne and reception area of the palace. Their goal was the same as always: protect the royal family. They didn't care if Natasha was married into said family.

She still wasn't used to having bodyguards, outside of maybe Ivan. Years of being shaped into a deadly weapon does that to you. Natasha even had on her gold gauntlets, the length of them covering her forearms and wrists. That's what she liked about them, they were subtle enough to pass as accessories.

"I do not need a bodyguard. Can I not leave my own room to see my husband on my own?" she asked the two women, neither of them looking at each other as she spoke, the three continuing to walk in sync. "I am sorry, my Queen. But it is our duty to protect you at all times." The one on her left stated.

[museswithattitude]

T’Challa was already at the foot of the throne when she entered, posture composed, hands folded behind his back in quiet authority. His gaze followed her instantly — not possessive, not worried — simply aware. The way a king watches what matters.

He inclined his head slightly to the Dora Milaje in acknowledgment before stepping toward her.

“They do not walk beside you because you are incapable,” he said calmly, voice steady and resonant. “They walk beside you because Wakanda honors you.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the gold Wakandan jewelry at her wrists — the subtle yet blinding gold he bestowed upon her the morning after their steamy engagement celebration— and a faint, knowing smile touched his lips.

“You have survived assassins, empires, and gods,” he continued. “You are not fragile, Natasha. But you are my queen. And a queen is never left exposed — not as a restriction, but as respect.”

He stopped in front of her, close enough now, lowering his voice.

“If you wish them to fall back, say so. The Dora obey you as they do me.”

A pause. Then, softer: Then, softer:

“But understand this — whether guarded or alone… you do not walk without me.”

[viduanata]

"I will get used to them."

Natasha smiled softly at her husband. "I hope it's as an equal, rather than a form of ownership. I'm no one's property anymore, and I hope you remember that." She patted his jaw as she walked past, sitting on her new throne beside his. This was new to her, too. She still was getting used to this whole queen thing. One of the Dora looked at her admiringly.

She had been raised her entire life being told that she was from the same bloodline as the Romanovs themselves, but it wasn't like she had any control over Russia. All the connection had earned her was more Soviet propaganda.

Natasha looked down at her left hand, the new bracelet made of large black beads wrapped firmly around her wrist. Kimoyo Beads, they were called. She had received it as a wedding gift a few weeks prior. She had spent the whole day before trying to figure out how it worked. Thankfully, Natasha was a fast learner. It was more advanced than the Soviet or Stark tech she was used to. She admired it.

[museswithattitude]

T’Challa did not bristle at her words. He turned to her slowly, his expression thoughtful rather than wounded.

“I have never mistaken you for property,” he said evenly. “Wakanda does not place crowns on possessions. It places them on partners.”

He lifted her hand gently, his thumb resting over the precious stones as if acknowledging both the gift and the heart deserving of the honor.

“Equality does not mean sameness,” he continued. “Nor does leadership require domination. You stand beside me because you chose to — not because I claimed you.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

"But understand this,” he added, voice steady and sure. “A throne does not erase order. It sharpens responsibility. Mine is to lead. Yours is to challenge me when I am wrong, and to strengthen me when I am right.”

His gaze softened, but his presence did not.

“You are no one’s property,” he said. “But you are my queen — by will, by covenant, and by strength.” His thumb brushed her lower lip once, possessive but restrained. The Dora could only look on with curiosity — and jealousy. Jealousy stemming from the two that engaged in combat with her quite some time ago.

"However, I do have instructions for you at this appointed time." The King's eyes briefly meet the Dora's then realigned with the Queen's.

“Unburden yourself of those garments,” he said softly, a knowing edge in his voice.

[viduanata]

Natasha tilted her head, her expression darkening. Her blue eyes glanced over at the Dora. With a sigh, she stood up and began to unzip the dress from the back. She was careful of the delicate material, slipping it off or her body as gently as possible. She respected such a beautiful piece of clothing.

Knowing what was next, she stepped out of the gold heels and black lace underwear, placing them and the dress on her throne to be put back on. Natasha stood there, in the nude, in front of him and the Dora. Having been trained to use her body and sexuality as a weapon, she had no issue with the possibility of another man coming across such a sight.

Her body was slim, and built like the trained athlete she was. Her breasts were noticeably large, having not had a bra on due to the way the dress was designed. She stood there, her arms behind her in a parade rest. Almost like she had been used to being given such a command by men before him. Men in power. Businessmen. Billionaires. The usual. Her expression never changed, still staring at her husband in her usual cold, stoic stare. She always looked like she was ready to murder. Like a wolf on edge.

[prideofwakanda]

The throne room was quiet, lit low by warm gold and vibranium inlay that traced the walls like constellations. Beyond the raised throne, partially veiled by carved screens and sheer Wakandan silks, rested a ceremonial sleeping dais — a bed built into the chamber itself, meant for kings who ruled without leaving their post. Its linens were dark and rich, softened by furs and woven cloth, a private space hidden in plain sight.

As Natasha let the gown slip from her shoulders, the Dora Milaje formed their silent ring, unmoving, eyes forward. T’Challa stood still—yet something primal stirred beneath his composure. A low, steady sound rumbled in his chest, not loud enough to command attention, but unmistakable—an instinct held on a leash.

If beauty alone were the measure of worth,” T’Challa murmured, his voice low and even, “you would be overqualified.”

As the words settled between them, his hands found her with deliberate calm — not roaming, not hurried. One palm rested at her waist, firm and grounding, while the other traced the natural line of her back, feeling the warmth of her body beneath his touch. It was a study, not a claim — the way a panther acknowledges what stands before him.

Their lips meant in a frenzy, T'Challa pressing himself tight against her, trapping her to her front door. His tongue slid across her bottom lip before pushing inside, tasting every inch of her.

[viduanata]

The Dora continued to stare straight ahead, holding their weapons in hand. Okoye herself had already become used to their moments of heated romance, having known T'Challa for quite a long time by now.

Natasha's hands held on to his biceps for stability, feeling how muscular he was from underneath his clothes. She eventually placed them under his shirt, pulling away long enough to take it off of him, then resumed kissing him. The henna essential oils that she always used for her baths, combined with the perfume she chose that day smelled heavenly.

She pulled away, taking some time to take off his belt and started to pull down his pants.

"Such a powerful King should be ready to please his wife whenever she needs him, yes?" she asked rhetorically, hands roaming his chiseled brown torso. She looked up at him, a gleam of excitement in her eyes. She was happy to have him physically whenever she wanted.

[viduanata]

The Dora continued to stare straight ahead, holding their weapons in hand. Okoye herself had already become used to their moments of heated romance, having known T'Challa for quite a long time by now.

Natasha's hands held on to his biceps for stability, feeling how muscular he was from underneath his clothes. She eventually placed them under his shirt, pulling away long enough to take it off of him, then resumed kissing him. The henna essential oils that she always used for her baths, combined with the perfume she chose that day smelled heavenly.

She pulled away, taking some time to take off his belt and started to pull down his pants.

"Such a powerful King should be ready to please his wife whenever she needs him, yes?" she asked rhetorically, hands roaming his chiseled brown torso. She looked up at him, a gleam of excitement in her eyes. She was happy to have him physically whenever she wanted.

[museswithattitude]

Shots from Black Panther photoshoot a few days ago.

[museswithattitude]

T’Challa did not bristle at her words. He turned to her slowly, his expression thoughtful rather than wounded.

“I have never mistaken you for property,” he said evenly. “Wakanda does not place crowns on possessions. It places them on partners.”

He lifted her hand gently, his thumb resting over the precious stones as if acknowledging both the gift and the heart deserving of the honor.

“Equality does not mean sameness,” he continued. “Nor does leadership require domination. You stand beside me because you chose to — not because I claimed you.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

"But understand this,” he added, voice steady and sure. “A throne does not erase order. It sharpens responsibility. Mine is to lead. Yours is to challenge me when I am wrong, and to strengthen me when I am right.”

His gaze softened, but his presence did not.

“You are no one’s property,” he said. “But you are my queen — by will, by covenant, and by strength.” His thumb brushed her lower lip once, possessive but restrained. The Dora could only look on with curiosity — and jealousy. Jealousy stemming from the two that engaged in combat with her quite some time ago.

"However, I do have instructions for you at this appointed time." The King's eyes briefly meet the Dora's then realigned with the Queen's.

“Unburden yourself of those garments,” he said softly, a knowing edge in his voice.

[viduanata]

starter for @museswithattitude

Natasha stepped out of the royal chambers, her floor length black gown with gold embroidery fit snug on her body as it showed off her curves. In an instant, two Dora Milaje walked with her on either side as they headed towards the throne and reception area of the palace. Their goal was the same as always: protect the royal family. They didn't care if Natasha was married into said family.

She still wasn't used to having bodyguards, outside of maybe Ivan. Years of being shaped into a deadly weapon does that to you. Natasha even had on her gold gauntlets, the length of them covering her forearms and wrists. That's what she liked about them, they were subtle enough to pass as accessories.

"I do not need a bodyguard. Can I not leave my own room to see my husband on my own?" she asked the two women, neither of them looking at each other as she spoke, the three continuing to walk in sync. "I am sorry, my Queen. But it is our duty to protect you at all times." The one on her left stated.

[museswithattitude]

T’Challa was already at the foot of the throne when she entered, posture composed, hands folded behind his back in quiet authority. His gaze followed her instantly — not possessive, not worried — simply aware. The way a king watches what matters.

He inclined his head slightly to the Dora Milaje in acknowledgment before stepping toward her.

“They do not walk beside you because you are incapable,” he said calmly, voice steady and resonant. “They walk beside you because Wakanda honors you.”

His eyes dropped briefly to the gold Wakandan jewelry at her wrists — the subtle yet blinding gold he bestowed upon her the morning after their steamy engagement celebration— and a faint, knowing smile touched his lips.

“You have survived assassins, empires, and gods,” he continued. “You are not fragile, Natasha. But you are my queen. And a queen is never left exposed — not as a restriction, but as respect.”

He stopped in front of her, close enough now, lowering his voice.

“If you wish them to fall back, say so. The Dora obey you as they do me.”

A pause. Then, softer: Then, softer:

“But understand this — whether guarded or alone… you do not walk without me.”

[superheroes-or-whatever]

Ultimate Black Panther (2024-) #20

[avengerscompound]

MARVEL SWIMSUIT SPECIAL: FRIENDS, FOES & RIVALS (2025) #1

[worsttimelineever-deactivated20]

Best character in the new Superman movie?

Mr. Terrific

[dailydccomics]

Mister Terrific by Greg Smallwood

[soranatus]

MISTER TERRIFIC By Dan Mora, in Justice League Unlimited (2024)

[luckyinafight]

"Efficient, huh? You like to get the job done fast and hard, then? I like it hard, but I like a challenge, you know? An even match. The easy ones aren't fun."

Half a smile cracked at the corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down. She wasn't going to let him in her pants without a date, she liked to have fun but a real man knows foreplay is everything.

"I'm not an 'easy one'. I'm hot shit. If they can't show me a good time, what's the point? I get bored if there's no foreplay."

[museswithattitude]

"Hard I can do, fast I can execute well- but 'even' we are not." Bishop smirked." I know you have luck on your side but it's gonna take a lot more than some luck to go twelve rounds with me."

Bishop was no stranger when it came to the needs of a woman. Despite his busy schedule he had his time around women and was quite popular with them. He was just selective.

"Sooo let's dance."

[museswithattitude]

Continued

Helen's selflessness was a reminder why the mutant man adored her unconditionally her. He could search a million alternate timelines and he would never find another like her. He was truly blessed.

"Last I checked I was their superior officer so I'll postpone it. They're probably in need of a break from me anyways." He shrugged.

The natural stoicism he held on his face melted with a slight smile. A good looking suit- bulletproof with weapons was a welcoming surprise for an ordinary occasion." You didn't need to flatter me darling...but after this Magneto couldn't keep me away from you if I were wearing metallic plates on my chest." Strong hands cup her waist edging her closer with authority and gentleness, bending as a passionate kiss found her lips.

Pulling back, tucking the long braids behind his ear, folding his beefy biceps across his chest." Y'know...next time I need to join you in Italy. Haven't been there in quite some time." She knew his passion for cooking. He got alomg well with the Italians.

"I'll model away, just no social media posts. When do we begin?"

@theguildedlist

[draconeusmuses]

Of course, Jean had heard of District X, but its establishment and many developments had occurred largely while she was dead, on the opposite side of the country, or otherwise occupied in some sort of world-ending crisis. In all things, a simple consequence of being an X-Man first, and everyone else second for the last half-decade or more. But that didn't keep her from keeping tabs, and of course she knew what Bishop had been up to.

"Oh, the area was it?" She asked with a faux coyness, she might have been serious at one point, if almost every other old face in her life, Ororo, James, Scott, Warren, Kitty, even Emma, hadn't come by at some point in the last few weeks to try to talk her back into the team, "But I get that, a pretty girl always has a habit of causing thirst." Smirking to herself at what was probably the lamest joke ever.

Reclining slightly in her seat, as she picked up the cup by its handle, she nodded, here it came, "Yeah, death can really fuck up a girl, you know? But it sort of... Compounded on my other personal realizations regarding... The whole thing over the last few years. It's especially hard to take any of it seriously after a rotation with the avengers, even if it was the West Coast squad."

"But I bet that's keeping you busy, Lucas, I've heard all about it out there. The miniature test-run of some of Xavier's ideas, yeah?"

[museswithattitude]

While Islands like Genosha were at one time known as a safe haven mutants, Bishop's hope was for the city of District X to be something similar for mutants in the inner city. In his timeline mutant policing other mutants didn't exactly pan out so he hoped law enforcement could work in a similar fashion of Xavier's dream where humans and mutants could govern the streets together for peace and justice.

"Thirst? I should charge you with a felony for lying to an officer," he said holding his stoicism." Only one of us at this table is thirsty- and that, Ms. Grey, is unequivocally you." He teased back. He didn't have the best sense of flirtatious humor..but the effort was there.

Death, something he was all too familiar with." I imagine. Some of the crime scenes I've seen in the District would screw the minds of the finest soldiers Weapon x has to offer." As those words left his lips hundreds of bloody battle thoughts involving the XSE and his dystopian home rush his mind. War of some sort was part of his DNA, for better or worse.

"Busy, alright- but not busy enough to invite you over later. It's getting a little late. I gotta head to the station and go over a few things with my guys." He nods as he gets up." I hope his dream really can come true someday, Jeanie."

[museswithattitude]

((throwing Helen who is a hitman your way to Bishop or whomever)) “Darling, when was the last time you and I spent a weekend together?” Helen asked, with a smile. She had been gone for two weeks on an intense mission from the Guild and had a list of premieres and interviews she had to do in a few weeks for the next summer blockbuster. “I go all the way to Milan for a job and I buy some nice clothes for you and you’re busy?” She teased with a gentle laugh, the same laugh the famous A Lister was known for.

Between duties with the X-Men, occasional time travelling and his current obligation to District X as a homicide investigator, it was needless to say Bishop was a busy man. It wasn't an excuse to ignore Helen, Bishop wasn't a man built on excuses. He just needed to do better.

The mutant, mountain of muscle, tucked his long locks behind his hair and mounted his gigantic futuristic rifle to the wall. He faced her with a box of consent. That laugh of hers could melt the hearts of Magneto of Apocalypse so Bishop had no chance but to cave to her demands.

"Guess I'll have to cancel those plans at the shooting range with the boys at the precinct this weekend." He stood before her, laying a hand on her shoulder." The clothes are nice, I saw them after I got home around midnight last night. How'd you find my size so easily?" He stood six foot-six inches tall and weighed two hundred and seventy pounds so shopping wasn't easy.

"I'll cook you a meal. Your favorite meal and give you a massage." Bishop was a cook among many other things." How's that sound?"

@theguildedlist