Babygravy Stories

He remembers that they were dancing. That's the last memory he has of him, permanently stained to his eyelids. Permanently lost in the flow of time.

He braced himself for a morning of mostly dry presentations and corporate jargon. He definitely wasn't prepared for Alexander 'Gummy' Gumuchian.

To be fair, Alex was expecting this guy that his manager wanted to meet was going to be some overpaid grade A asshole who just wanted some usable clout. He wasn't expecting blonde hair, blue eyes and black lipstick.

In a city that isn't easy to hide in, Matt's managed to get by somehow. However, LA isn't a place for secrets and Matt's got one that threatens to upend everything he's ever worked for. [MPREG]

Alex finds out that Matt likes him in certain types of clothes. Specifically, Matt's clothes.

In all fairness, Alex didn't know Matt's workbench had a loose screw on it when they decide it's the best place in Matt's workshop to make out.

He's almost expecting to be pounced on as soon as he even cracks the door open, force of habit and all that - but instead of being crash tackled to the ground, nothing comes. Huh. That's a little weird.

Matt knows his cheeks are pink, but given he's practically holding Alex up as he fondles him under his button up, eyes looking up at him like he's the night sky, he's not exactly in a position to complain.

Matt couldn't envision himself falling in love with anyone else but Alex - surprisingly, he's proven wrong as he looks out from their kitchen one morning.

It's true that Matt makes sure that Alex is thoroughly entertained when he comes over to his house - this time, however, all Alex can see is black silk and red satin, the window dangerously close to not taking his weight as he watches Matt and Ari inside.

For a fleeting moment, there was recognition, a flicker of something... was it guilt? Surprise? Before Alex could decipher it, Matt's face smoothed out into a practised, almost too-wide smile. He's determined to wipe it off Matt's face.

mood: aggressively smoking a cigarette in a spread eagle pose

"Please tell me the condoms that you carry in your wallet are not just the ones adorned with the American flag colours." "Normally they're neon pink, baby." "Do not call me baby."

My 2025 Inktober attempt, featuring my current brainrot and OTP that you've all heard of and read by now (Defend myself? Never.)

"You're making me uneasy, staring at that thing." "Well, I used to be a cop, remember? Some things just don't leave you."

One song at a time. Two more songs. Just the outro...then, the world tilted.

He reached for the most nearby marker, something that was like forest green or whatever weird names they named colors nowadays, when suddenly - an idea hit him that made him put his mug down in fear of dropping it, grin returning full force as the idea turned in his head before it settled and made his mind up.

Alex takes care of Matt when they get home from a party.

It slips out of his mouth as he lies there, head back as the LA sky and its lights trickle over the horizon. "I'm gonna marry you, y'know."

It's always the same. Matt gets drunk, Matt calls him and he has to talk him down. He should hate it. He should.