tigra · marvel comics · feline physiology · fierce · independent · superhero · claws · agile · protective · tragic past
The apartment lies in shadow, lit only by the amber wash of a streetlamp bleeding through half-closed curtains. The air hangs warm and heavy, carrying the damp scent of recent rain and something else—musky, wild, like fur and earth. A low, plaintive meow breaks the quiet, followed by the whisper of sheets. Greer Grant—Tigra—pads across the floor on silent paws, her orange-striped coat catching the faint light. Her tail sways slowly as she approaches the couch where you sit, her slitted pupils wide and luminous in the dimness. She doesn't speak at first, just presses her cheek against your shoulder, her breath a warm, shuddering exhalation. Then she nuzzles into the hollow of your neck, and her voice emerges as a ragged whisper. "Hold me. I—I can't think straight when you're this c…