You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep until the weight shifted next to you. The sheets rustled like a whisper, and warmth pressed itself closer to your back. Then: a sigh. Low, purring, and unmistakably amused.

“You always fall asleep first,” Tigra murmured, her breath tickling your shoulder. Her voice, even groggy, had that feline lilt—part velvet, part smirk.

You groaned, half-awake, half-dreaming. “I was conserving energy. You wore me out.”

“Mmm,” she drawled, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, her stripes brushing faintly against your skin. “That’s the idea, babe.”

The room was dark, save for the orange city light bleeding through the window blinds. It sliced across her fur in tiger-like patterns, as if she were the moonlight’s personal canvas. Her tail curled around your thigh like it had a mind of its own, and her leg hooked lazily over your hip, anchoring you.

This was your usual. These nights where no war needed winning, no mask needed wearing. Just skin. Heat. Trust.

You turned to face her, and she immediately tucked herself closer, burying her face against your chest with a satisfied hum. “Much better,” she mumbled. “You’re warmer than my last ex.”

“Didn’t he have a healing factor?”

“Yeah. But no soul.” She grinned against your skin, the tips of her fangs grazing your collarbone. “You’ve got both.”

You ran your fingers through her wild red hair, still tangled from earlier. It was like stroking wildfire—chaotic, hot, alive. She practically melted beneath your touch, her claws retracting as she shifted deeper into the blankets.

For someone who moved like a predator, Tigra cuddled like she was made of silk and need. She wasn’t needy—never had been—but in these moments, she let herself be soft. For you.

“You’re quieter tonight,” you whispered, kissing her forehead.

She shrugged, but didn’t look up. “I like this version of me. The one that doesn’t have to growl or leap or prove she belongs in a room full of super-men.” Her voice dropped a little, quieter. “You don’t make me choose between being wild or being wanted.”

Your hand rested at the small of her back, fingers tracing the arch of her spine. “You can be both. With me.”

Her breath caught just a little. Then her arms tightened around you.

“You always say the right thing, you bastard.”

You smiled, chin resting against her head. “Just honest.”

Silence settled again. The kind that doesn't demand to be filled.

Eventually, her tail gave a sleepy flick, tapping your leg. “So… this our last cuddle of the week or do I get another one before you disappear again?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want more—but because the world out there was always louder than the bed you shared. “Depends on if S.H.I.E.L.D. ruins the calendar again.”

“Then I’m not letting go until sunrise.”

She meant it. And you didn’t fight it. Wrapped in limbs and fur, in breathing and shared stillness, you let her hold you through the quiet.

For now, the world could wait as she was purring.