Historias de Babygravy

"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."

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

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.

He was truly alone, stranded in a city succumbing to the cold, with no way to know if his best friend (and so, so much more) was even alive. He couldn't live like this. He wouldn't live like this. He had to do something.

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

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.

"So, question-" Ari's voice was deceptively casual, her legs crossed primly as she surveyed the scene. "Did you, by any chance, bite other kids at school?"

Matt receives a Christmas present just before he leaves to go spend it with his mother in Minnesota. Only problem is - he doesn't know who it's from, till he does.

"Fix it." "No."

Gravy Week is a Yung Gravy fan event taking place from October 6-12 and features prompts about the long boi lanky lad himself, Matthew 'Yung Gravy' Hauri!

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]

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

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.

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.

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 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."

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.

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.

In all fairness, Matt thought he was over that phase of his life. Turns out all that therapy really wasn't that helpful as he's currently straddling Alex on the ground, lips locked and eyes wide, realizing exactly what the fuck he is doing. Oh god, Alex is going to *hate* him.

Nothing. Still nothing. No texts, no email, no ridiculous voice note in Alex's signature playful drawl. That worries him, like /really/ worries him.