Tawns of Fun

Imagine Steppenwolf and his minions trying to interrogate you. 

“‘Mother Box’? I got your Mother Box,” you said, tapping your crotch, “right here, pal.” 

The conqueror glared or stared—it was difficult to discern which—for a few moments. 

“Hold on, this one will be mine.” 

“Your what?” 

Steppenwolf didn’t seem used to anyone advancing so boldly. 

“Concubine?” he offered. 

Imagine Apocalypse pursuing you, even though you’re already dating Nightcrawler.

“I like ‘em blue,” you admitted. Raven glanced at Hank.

“So you’ve been around for thousands of years?”

The first mutant smiled, mistaking your wide-eyed expression for awe.

“I-”

“Then you’re too old for me, dude. Even Dr. McCoy would be an appropriate choice compared to you. Now, if you excuse me, I have an indigo impboy waiting...”

Apocalypse stepped forward as Kurt entered the room. And, spotting the overlord, teleported you to the other side.

“I would have allowed you a concubine. But now, for-”

You didn’t hear the rest, because as soon as he opened his mouth you whispered to Kurt, “Let’s get out of here.”

Imagine Apocalypse becoming enamored after seeing you through Charles. Then deciding your purpose is to be his concubine.

En Sabah Nur’s Horsemen were not a harem. Despite what you assumed after being told to embrace concubinage. And despite his penchant for collecting powers, Apocalypse was only interested in one consort. The mutant old enough to be somebody’s great grandfather’s great grandfather cooed he was all yours.

Turning Professor X’s head to examine his eyes had been a mistake. You were just checking to see if the telepath was okay.

If Charles becomes like, his actual spouse I’m going to be so pissed, you thought, while being stripped then suited in a less impressive version of Apocalypse’s own armor. Boy Blue has’t seen Return of the Jedi yet?