Hii eenieyyy welcome back! Glad that you're done with finals, heard they're
Painful
Ja ja
Anyways, i uh, wanted to ask if we uh could uhm...
B
Brush the kitties? Please?
"Pet Me Purrs"
Tags: Sphinx/Cat Hybrid x GN Reader | Mythical Creature Grooming | Grumpy Beast, Happy Beast | Proud Creature Problems | Domestic Fluff | Brush Go Brrr | Purring Galor | Lighthearted
Continued Ask: "Wait That wasn't specific oops I mean the Sphinx and Maca jeje..."
AN gang I am SO sorry I moved into my room for the next 2 months for my internship and had this half baked for a while, take these two kitties feed them in seperate rooms cause ones a fatass and the other is a softie.
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- The first time you bring a grooming brush into the ruins, he immediately assumes it's for you. He watches with an amused smirk until you hold it up toward him.
- The moment you explain it's for his mane, his entire expression twists into dignified offense. "You believe I require assistance maintaining my appearance?"
- He spends the next several minutes insisting his coat is already immaculate. It is, admittedly. Sphinxes are meticulous groomers by nature, and he carries himself with far too much pride to appear anything less than regal.
- That doesn't stop him from making it as difficult as possible. Every time you get close, one enormous wing unfolds in front of him like a curtain.
- Eventually, when you reach for him one last time... He simply flops, right onto you. It's completely unfair, warm fur, solid muscle, far too much sphinx to move on your own.
- Once you've resigned yourself to brushing him while pinned beneath several hundred pounds of smug feline, you just feel the rumbling of his chest.
- The sound is absurdly loud, the ruins practically vibrate with it. If you tease him about purring, one bright eye lazily cracks open and brushes you off. (heh)
- If you arrive without the brush after that he notices. "...You seem to have forgotten something."
.....
The brush catches the afternoon light as you pull it from your satchel, the Sphinx notices immediately. His ears twitch. "...What," he asks carefully, "is that?"
"A brush."
"I possess eyes."
You offer him a small smile, quietly hoping he'd go along with this. "It's for you." The silence that follows is almost impressive, then he laughs.
Not because it's funnyâbecause he genuinely believes you've made the most absurd suggestion imaginable. "For me?"
"Yes." He rises to his full height, mane catching the breeze, chin lifting another inch as though insult alone has made him taller. "I require no assistance."
"I didn't say you required it, I said I'd like to."
His tail swishes suspiciously at you, you're barely able to take one step forward before a massive wing unfolds between you and him. "...Really?" You groaned.
"I have decided," he says with perfect composure, "that today's audience is over."
You lean to the left and the wing moves with you, you duck right, so does the wing. "...You're hiding."
"I simply prefer that you remain on that side of my wing."
When the wing finally lifts just enough for you to slip past, his tail immediately curls around your wrist, gently nudging the brush away. "Stop that." You narrow your eyes at him.
"I have done nothing, I redirected you." He looks unbearably pleased with himself.
"You're acting like a kitten." Now it's his turn for his eyes to narrow, then, before you can reactâ he drops down, a tremendous weight settles against you as his forelegs box you in, wings spilling across the stone on either side. His chest presses lightly against yours, pinning you beneath a mountain of warm fur while his mane tumbles over your shoulders like spun sunlight. "There," he says, sounding very satisfied.
"I can't reach your mane like this." You groan, pushing and twisting around, attempting to break free from your fluffy prison.
"You'll manage." His chin settles atop your head. With considerable effortâand a great deal of wigglingâyou free one arm enough to lift it. "...Fine." The first stroke disappears into the thick fur beneath his jaw.
You feel every muscle beneath you relax at once, then the purr begins. It sounds deep, powerful enough that you feel it through his chest before you hear it.
It rolls through him in steady waves, vibrating against your ribs until you can't help smiling. You drag the brush slowly through the base of his mane again, his eyes drift shut almost instantly.
The rumble grows louder, he presses more of his weight onto you, just enough to make escape completely impossible. His wings loosen, cocooning the two of you in feather and fur while you continue brushing through the impossibly soft mane, teasing apart tangles that hardly existed to begin with.
The proud creature who had spent the better part of twenty minutes defending his dignity now leaned shamelessly into every pass of the brush.
When you finally set the brush aside, satisfied with your work, the purring gradually quiets. Instead, he simply lowers his head, the immense weight of it comes to rest across your chest, his mane spilling over your face until all you can see is soft golden fur.
"...I can't see."
"There is nothing worth seeing."
"I also can't breathe very well."
"You continue to breathe." A pleased hum vibrates against you.
For all his pride, for all the grand speeches and impossible riddles, he makes no move to leave. He simply remains there, eyes closed, content enough to let the late afternoon pass with your hands idly carding through the mane he'd sworn needed no tending.
.
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- Macavity is meticulous about looking presentable, but not because anyone ever taught them how to care for themself. It's survival.
- Their fur gets cleaned in hurried moments between jobs, tangles picked out with impatient fingers, burrs pulled free with more determination than gentleness.
- The first time you bring out a brush, they don't joke. That's how you know you've surprised them.
- Their eyes lock onto it immediately, ears turning uncertainly toward the object in your hand before flicking back to your face.
- They won't stop you, but they also won't move closer. They simply sit there, shoulders slightly tense, tail curled around their own ankle like they're bracing for something embarrassing.
- Their biggest fear isn't that you'll hurt them. It's that you'll think they're... unpleasant.
- The second the brush glides through the fur behind their ears, their posture changes almost without them noticing.
- Five minutes later they're practically vibrating against your side. If you scratch gently at the base of one ear with the brush... They're gone.
- If you stop, one ear flicks back expectantly, they become embarrassingly attached to grooming nights afterward.
.....
Macavity arrived just after midnight with leaves in their hair, you noticed before they even climbed fully through the window.
There were twigs caught in the thick fur along one ear, dust clinging to the sleeves of their jacket, and a fresh scrape disappearing beneath the edge of their collar. Whatever tonight's job had involved, it had clearly required more crawling than elegance.
Macavity noticed you looking and immediately smiled. "What?"
"You've got something behind your ear."
"I've got style." they say, swaying their hand behind their head.
You shook your head as you crossed the apartment. While Macavity busied themself with kicking off muddy boots and dramatically complaining about the weather, your eyes drifted toward the small basket tucked beneath your bookshelf.
Without really thinking about it, you reached inside, a wooden brush fit comfortably into your hand. When you turned back around, Macavity had gone completely still. Their gaze remained fixed on the brush. "What," they asked after a long moment, "is that for?"
You looked down as though the answer were obvious. "For you, you've got leaves in your fur," you explained gently. "And there's a knot right behind your ear. Come here."
Macavity didn't move.
They weren't refusing you, you knew what that looked like. It came with crossed arms, crooked grins and sarcastic remarks. This was hesitation, "I probably look awful," they admitted eventually, the words leaving so softly you almost missed them.
"You look like someone who's had a rough night," you said, stepping closer. "Those aren't the same thing."
You settled them onto the couch, sitting beside them close enough that your knees brushed. They held themself very straight at first, shoulders stiff beneath your fingertips as you carefully lifted one ear to free the tiny leaf tangled there.
"There," you murmured. "Found the culprit."
"I told you it was stylish." The joke earned a quiet laugh, and some of the tension eased from their shoulders. You waited another moment before bringing the brush to the thick fur behind their ear.
The brush moved through the soft midnight fur, still carrying the faint scent of rain and city rooftops. Every careful pass worked free another knot, another burr caught from climbing over old brick walls and squeezing through narrow gaps. Your free hand rested lightly against the side of their head whenever you reached a stubborn tangle, your thumb absentmindedly smoothing the fur beneath one ear.
Macavity's posture began changing so gradually you weren't sure either of you noticed. The rigid line of their back softened first, their shoulders sank. The hand that had been gripping their own knee loosened, fingers uncurling one by one until they rested quietly against the cushion.
Their tail, which had wrapped tightly around their ankle when they'd first sat down, slipped free and wandered lazily across the couch. Eventually it found your leg, staying wrapped around as though it belonged.
You reached the base of one ear and changed the angle of the brush, working through the thicker fur there with careful, rhythmic strokes. Something deep inside Macavity rumbled, it vibrated through their chest and into your shoulder where they had unconsciously leaned against you.
A few more strokes and their head tipped sideways until it rested lightly against your shoulder. They hadn't meant to lean so much, you could tell by the faint look of surprise crossing their face before it melted into something softer.
When you finally set the brush aside, thinking you were finished, the warmth against your shoulder disappeared.
Before you could say anything, a familiar head nudged gently beneath your hand, Macavity refused to look at you, their ears had folded with unmistakable embarrassment, and their tail had swept once across their face as though trying to hide behind it.
After a long, painfully dignified silence, they muttered into your shoulder, "...I think... you might've missed a spot." You smiled so warmly it made your chest ache. "I think," you whispered, lifting the brush once more, "I probably did."
This time, when the brush found the place behind their ears again, Macavity didn't bother pretending they weren't purring.
..
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