little-worm-grant

[little-worm-grant]

Finally read the Marvel Rivals Moon Knight story and this part made me laugh out loud

(Wanna get back into traditional art, I've missed inking.)

[little-worm-grant]

This is such a nice compliment, I'm really touched. Thank you so much!! It's definitely cathartic to have a space where I can put some of it into words. No matter how hard I try I can't shake everything from my past and I've found my peace in that. Took me the longest time to open up rather than be ashamed by it.

If you liked this you might also enjoy The Weekend, Behind Closed Doors, and one of my personal favorites: Happy Simple Normal Life

Night Terrors

Moonboys x You (Reader) 574 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Marc isn't the only one to suffer the occasional bad night, they all do. Here are some ramblings of how each of the alters handles night terrors with you around. This will contain descriptions but nothing graphic.

A/N: A lil cathartic trauma writing after a bad night. I have CPTSD that's not too different to Marc's experience with his mom growing up. No matter how many years of therapy I've done to find my baseline normal, I still get night terrors every month. This is a damn sure better than what it used to be, but still annoying. It's one of those things I will never have control over and just have to deal with it. Thought I'd use my experiences to write how I imagine it'd go for the moonboys. Regardless of the things I write, I'm genuinely in a good place in my life. Healing is not linear. The worst experience to ever happen to me was my childhood and I've gone forward in life with my head up knowing nothing will ever be that bad again. Look after yourself first, no one can do it as good as you can.

Steven wakes up sometimes in a panicked wheeze, flapping his arms as though to get a spider off his pillow (it's just the shadow indent of where his head was that his brain hasn't quite registered), or just straight up flying out of bed in a scramble to get away from the perceived threat. You've learned he needs a lot of physical contact to come around and be eased back into bed. He never remembers these nights or what he's dreaming about. Laughs and calls himself a "right plonker" when you explain it the next day. He'll comfortably make jokes about his evening escapades. He panics when he's conscious, it doesn't surprise him one bit he also does it in his sleep too. No wonder he's always so tired. Steven deeply appreciates knowing you're there for him when he needs it. He'll pamper you and try making your day a little easier to make up for it. Scratch each other's backs and all that. -

Marc shouldn't be touched when he gets like this. Always a small chance it'll freak him out more. He's never hurt you, more like he doesn't recognize you and tries to keep you at an arm's distance to keep himself safe. You've never seen him so tense. Sat upright, shaken breath. Eyes wildly scanning the dark of the room, convinced he's seen something in the shapes he can make out. As though it's both your lives on the line if he's distracted from it. He doesn't look angry, it's not like that stern expression he usually carries... but more like he's seen a ghost. He's terrified of whatever may come out of the dark. It breaks your heart. You talk him through his logical fallacies until he's convinced enough to settle back down. Sometimes it requires a light being turned on for him to snap out of it. Come the next day, he'll brush off your follow-up questions of it. Embarrassed you saw that side of him. Marc won't often remember getting up in the night, but he certainly remembers what he dreamt about. He won't willingly discuss that in any detail. He thinks you'll look at him differently if he does. The day naps wrapped around you make everything better. -

Jake you've only seen out once in this state. The broom you'd moved out the way before bed came tumbling down in a loud clatter, and he was up in a blink of an eye. No staggered breathing or wild eyes like Marc. None of Steven's exaggerated or fast movements. Stiff as a statue he's up and staring off into the empty void of the room. It was more unnerving than the other two. You try talking to him but he doesn't acknowledge you. A tentative touch snaps his eyes to yours. After a moment, he seems to soften and come back to himself. Some mumbled strung-together Spanish you aren't convinced was meant to be coherent. He chuckles and drops back down into the sheets. Reaching out to pull you in closer. Soundly snoring a moment later. You're left perplexed and blinking. Questioning who the hell that was. Jake tends to have a very vague recollection of coming to and trying to tiredly explain his reasoning. He doesn't remember if he was dreaming. "But there's no danger, so there's no problem. Go back to sleep," he'd tell you, thinking you understood him perfectly. He can sleep better for it.

[little-worm-grant]

Soft boys 🥺❤

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[little-worm-grant]

We asked Moon Knight how he was feeling about the whole 'multiverse' thing, here's what he had to say:

[little-worm-grant]

Imagine him playing to all the strays he feeds 😭❤

me: *see a photo of oscar isaac in a flat cap* yea that’s jake

[little-worm-grant]

These are FANTASTIC!! 👏

A New Moon By digital artist, IxpertishVela

[little-worm-grant]

part 2, training!

[little-worm-grant]

Night Terrors

Moonboys x You (Reader) 574 words / 18+ only, no minors

Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Marc isn't the only one to suffer the occasional bad night, they all do. Here are some ramblings of how each of the alters handles night terrors with you around. This will contain descriptions but nothing graphic.

A/N: A lil cathartic trauma writing after a bad night. I have CPTSD that's not too different to Marc's experience with his mom growing up. No matter how many years of therapy I've done to find my baseline normal, I still get night terrors every month. This is a damn sure better than what it used to be, but still annoying. It's one of those things I will never have control over and just have to deal with it. Thought I'd use my experiences to write how I imagine it'd go for the moonboys. Regardless of the things I write, I'm genuinely in a good place in my life. Healing is not linear. The worst experience to ever happen to me was my childhood and I've gone forward in life with my head up knowing nothing will ever be that bad again. Look after yourself first, no one can do it as good as you can.

Steven wakes up sometimes in a panicked wheeze, flapping his arms as though to get a spider off his pillow (it's just the shadow indent of where his head was that his brain hasn't quite registered), or just straight up flying out of bed in a scramble to get away from the perceived threat. You've learned he needs a lot of physical contact to come around and be eased back into bed. He never remembers these nights or what he's dreaming about. Laughs and calls himself a "right plonker" when you explain it the next day. He'll comfortably make jokes about his evening escapades. He panics when he's conscious, it doesn't surprise him one bit he also does it in his sleep too. No wonder he's always so tired. Steven deeply appreciates knowing you're there for him when he needs it. He'll pamper you and try making your day a little easier to make up for it. Scratch each other's backs and all that. -

Marc shouldn't be touched when he gets like this. Always a small chance it'll freak him out more. He's never hurt you, more like he doesn't recognize you and tries to keep you at an arm's distance to keep himself safe. You've never seen him so tense. Sat upright, shaken breath. Eyes wildly scanning the dark of the room, convinced he's seen something in the shapes he can make out. As though it's both your lives on the line if he's distracted from it. He doesn't look angry, it's not like that stern expression he usually carries... but more like he's seen a ghost. He's terrified of whatever may come out of the dark. It breaks your heart. You talk him through his logical fallacies until he's convinced enough to settle back down. Sometimes it requires a light being turned on for him to snap out of it. Come the next day, he'll brush off your follow-up questions of it. Embarrassed you saw that side of him. Marc won't often remember getting up in the night, but he certainly remembers what he dreamt about. He won't willingly discuss that in any detail. He thinks you'll look at him differently if he does. The day naps wrapped around you make everything better. -

Jake you've only seen out once in this state. The broom you'd moved out the way before bed came tumbling down in a loud clatter, and he was up in a blink of an eye. No staggered breathing or wild eyes like Marc. None of Steven's exaggerated or fast movements. Stiff as a statue he's up and staring off into the empty void of the room. It was more unnerving than the other two. You try talking to him but he doesn't acknowledge you. A tentative touch snaps his eyes to yours. After a moment, he seems to soften and come back to himself. Some mumbled strung-together Spanish you aren't convinced was meant to be coherent. He chuckles and drops back down into the sheets. Reaching out to pull you in closer. Soundly snoring a moment later. You're left perplexed and blinking. Questioning who the hell that was. Jake tends to have a very vague recollection of coming to and trying to tiredly explain his reasoning. He doesn't remember if he was dreaming. "But there's no danger, so there's no problem. Go back to sleep," he'd tell you, thinking you understood him perfectly. He can sleep better for it.

[little-worm-grant]

Makes me happy when I see this lil fluff fic still gets some love!

I liked imagining how Marc and Steven's interactions would go when they were young.

CPTSD really noodles the brain so I imagine Steven doesn't keep track or remember all his interactions with Marc, his mind works hard to compartmentalize his reality with the information he gets given. Just as Marc likely barely remembers his own childhood, all in his effort of wanting to give all the best parts of it to Steven.

In this fic, young Steven got lost at the aquarium and discovered his love for talking to the fishies 🥰

Steven's pov: Happy Simple Normal Life

1,153 words / Masterlist.

If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥

Summary: Some lighthearted scatterbrained memories from the mind of Steven Grant and his formative years. Previously: Marc's pov: Behind Closed Doors (18+ hurt/not a necessary read)

Continued: Steven's pov: Oh Sausages (more comfort)

Tags: Childhood Memories, Comfort, Fluff, Developing Friendship

Corridors were quiet. Everyone else had gone outside for recess. Steven had spent all his free time hiding out in a classroom to read. He was a good boy, and knew how to fly under the radar. Teachers felt they could count on him to be left in a classroom unsupervised. They didn’t know what he was really up to.

Steven had only one other love besides books. The moment he knew the coast was clear, he’d take the teacher’s chair out from behind the desk and push it out the classroom. He'd use it to race down the hall as fast as he could. Hopping on at the very last second to try and see how far he could roll. Might've seemed silly to some, but Steven got the biggest thrill out of it.

Sometimes the chair would collide with the wall. Other times he’d not make it onto the seat and looked like a pretty sad sap on the floor with the chair wheeling away from him. He kept trying. Just a couple of tries each time before retreating back to class. He never wanted to push his luck and get caught.

First attempt was crap. Caught on a classroom door frame and bounced to the other wall rather than down the bleeding hall. Okay, Steven. Get it together. He returned back down one end. The wheels of the heavy chair crackled along the dirty floors. Determination in his eyes.

Catching his breath back he looked over the seat to plan his trajectory. The hallway seemed to close in on him. Long and narrow. His breathing came back to him in long steady breaths. One last try. Now or never Grant.

Kicking off with one push against the wall. Shoving the chair forward. Steven broke into a sprint. His hands gripped the arms tightly. Cheering himself on. Losing his breath he made the final move to jump up onto the seat.

One knee up. Using the other leg to push off the ground. Steering the speeding chair down the hallway. Passing doors and lockers faster than he thought was possible. Smooth sailing. Second knee up. He clung to the backrest of the seat and beamed.

For a single moment, Steven Grant was on top of the world. Fearless. He could do anything he set his mind to and-

“MISTER SPECTOR!”

The screech of a woman's voice startled him. Swiveling his head around to see who his teacher was yelling at. Only finding her horrified eyes dead set on him. Oh crud. Too caught up on being caught, he’d not been looking where he was going. The chair bounced off a wall causing the whole thing to go barreling out of control. The last thing little Steven remembered was his face about to kiss the floor.

"OH SHI-"

Nice one, plonker.

School trip to the aquarium. He’d remembered being so excited to go to this. Couldn't believe he was actually here, that'd come round fast. The place was pretty busy. Lot of people around in and between his peers while the teacher tried keeping them all wrangled together. Fat chance of that. Steven might have gotten a tad distracted watching one of those informational videos. Not hearing or noticing anything else around him while his eyes were zoned in on the screen. Deeply entrenched with a slew of facts about mantis shrimps. Those buggars could really pack a punch. He couldn't even imagine seeing more colors. Hadn’t noticed the group had left him behind until they were already gone.

That was one of the few times Steven had ever truly felt lost in childhood. Alone in a new location without any way to find or get in touch with his group. Maybe he should wait there until he got back. Going off wandering would only make it worse, he wasn't daft. Once they noticed surely they’d come back.

He paced, avoiding stepping into people’s ways, trying to go back to information screens to settle himself but it wasn’t the same blissful unawareness he’d had before. The pit in his stomach worsened with every minute that passed. He started to need the bathroom but worried he might get lost trying to find one or while getting back. Panic built up in his throat and made his eyes all glassy. Blinking back the tears the back of his hand came up to wipe.

That's when he caught his own reflection in the glass of one of the darker aquariums. Murky waters showed the reflection of another boy who looked far calmer than he felt. Arms down by his sides. Didn’t constantly have his hands up in front of him fiddling or flailing them around like Steven did.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi.” The voice responded.

Steven imagined he heard him say it back, like he was right there. But he couldn’t have. That would’ve been daft. Imaginary friends his dad would have reminded him. That's what he told himself too. He could have conversations with himself for hours sometimes.

“I’m scared.” Steven admitted out loud to himself. To the fishes. To his friend.

“I know.” The reflection moved when he did. Another short pace to get closer to the glass. The facial expressions were all wrong. Maybe not wrong was the right word, but different. Steven could swear he didn’t frown like that. The voice spoke again. “It’s going to be okay though. You know that. Take a deep breath. They're gonna come back.”

Steven did take that breath. Sharply in and slower out. Letting go of that pent-up feeling building in his chest. Felt less alone, even if it was his own reflection that eased him.

“Yeah… I hope so. Would be a bit of a bummer if I had to live here with the fishes.”

"Nahh- that wouldn't be so bad. That's right up your alley."

"It'd be bosting honestly. I'd be dead happy. I'd name every single one of 'em Gus. We'd have a right good time."

The voice chuckled and the reassurances worked. If only to settle Steven down enough to subdue the growing panic.

"You think they'll be back soon?"

"Course. I'll wait with you until they do. Tell me about what you've seen so far. Is it fun?" "Oh man you wouldn't believe it. So there's this shrimp, yeah?"

He talked and talked and talked. The reflection listened. Even Steven was smiling in the end. Someone eventually did come back for him. Found him in the same place they’d left him, chatting away with the fishes. Telling them all about his day. The teacher was firm but nice. One last glance to the glass. He caught only his own reflection looking back at him this time.

“Bye mate.” He waved to the fishes as he was guided back to the group.

Kept telling himself everything was going to be okay; because in the end, it always was.

[little-worm-grant]

This got an ugly laugh from me. Great art and the perfect tune to sum up Jake and Khonshu's relationship 🤣🤣

Original comic by @cartoonsbyandie

[little-worm-grant]

Absolutely fantastic 👏 I was in stitches

Because of what's been happening in the notes of [this] post, it has been decided that Jake also deserves a Britney Spears anthem scene

Enjoy 💗

@angel-of-the-moons & @my-secret-shame this is on you

[little-worm-grant]

Her face 🤣 It fits so perfectly

[little-worm-grant]

☕️ MY KO-FI SKETCHBOOK ☕️ Suspect thinks having a mustache--

Something I wasn't expecting, as a Spanish speaker myself, was narrowing down how Jake would say "Oh wow, that's just mean. " I HC his Spanish being colloquial to Guatemala, and as a fellow Central American I sorta default to what I feel like I'd hear around me. I love love love thinking about the slang and speech pattern Jake would have in his Spanish. This was a fun prompt to do, and on the first read it had me cracking up. It's one of my favorite trends, and I'm really glad I got to draw some form of it! Thank you for your support! <3 Commissions OPEN | Ko-Fi | Instagram | X

[little-worm-grant]

You should have a bloody oscar for this artwork too! Fantastic!

Oscar should have a bloody oscar 😉 for how fucking incredible his performance in Moonknight is. The trauma, comedy, tragedy and action is breathtaking. He is becoming one of my favourite subjects. 😊

[little-worm-grant]

Bloody brilliant 👏

Jake Lockley + some flabergasted Steven Grant sketches. (These where some requests i got on my kofi)

[little-worm-grant]

Finally happened! My first fic to hit 1k notes

🥹

Spicy Jake: Aftercare

Jake Lockley x You (Fem!Reader) 1,532 words / 18+ only, no minors Masterlist. If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥ Summary: What if Jake took care of you after Marc had his way with you? Focusing on the aftercare, you find there's a gentler side to his rougher counterpart. Notes: Don't ask me what this is. You'll never take me alive. Warnings: Aftercare, post-rough sex, overstimulation, bondage/restraints, bruises and marks, creampie, established relationship, all the pet names, affection, comfort, fluff.

Jake was yanked all too violently to the front, taking a second to try and fight for some air back into his lungs. Eyes wildly scanning his surroundings. Expecting to be amidst some kind of fight, he discovered it was something else entirely. That last orgasm had sent Marc to the clouds and drawn Jake into the fray. Hadn’t been the intention of either of them, but Jake accepted it was what it was.

Couldn’t really complain when you were beneath him, your knees propped up with your back to him. Your face shoved into the sheets and your hands tied behind your back. His hand had been gripped around your waist and holding onto the ties of your restraints.

His cock spent but still buried deep inside of you. Any movement was sending your oversensitive cunt into a new spiral. Watching the mess spread out around where you both connected. It was spilling all down you both. He’d deducted you’d been at it while.

“Oh chica…”

His words came out in a soft drawl. Hips readjusting to watch you whine for him as he kept his movements slow but continued to thrust as deep as he could take it. His eyes trailed over the red marks and forming bruises the other brute left behind. Jake knew exactly which one of him had done this.

Always Marc who got his rocks off from controlling and using you to take out his frustrations. Steven was too desperate to please you. As for Jake? Well. Jake just wanted to treat you better than anyone else ever could. Most importantly, he wanted nothing more than to dote on you.

At the sound of his voice, you look over your shoulder up to him. If he thought your behind and ass looked bad, your face wasn’t looking much better. Red angry fingerprints scattered where he’d forced your jaw open and held it in place. Smeared lipstick and puffy red lips. The evidence of why your lipstick was like that remained at the base of his dick.

Mascara had streaked down your cheeks. Rosy from being slapped a few times. A dazed content smile spread across them. Jake couldn’t think of anything more beautiful than the sight of you like this. You looked happy, satisfied and ready for a little tenderness. He could do that.

Taking care of others wasn’t new for Jake. On those darkest of nights when Marc had gone looking for answers in the bottom of a bottle, it was always Jake taking over in the end. He stumbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Downing as much water from the sink as he could keep down.

Somehow he’d navigate the spinning fun house while hauling their asses back to bed. All so Steven could suffer the consequences more comfortably the following morning. Jake couldn’t always be there to take away the pain. Sucks to suck, Grant. He’d probably feel this in the morning too.

Jake reached for the knots around your wrists. Undoing the restraints. Pulling himself out from inside you. Hearing your softer groan turning into a whine and huffing in amusement.

“Mi amor. Went overboard did we? A little too oversensitive now, si?”

“Shut yourself up.”

You try to bite back. Sounded more exhausted than threatening. You sounded proud of yourself too. As you should. Jake wasn’t looking much better himself. Hair was all tussled and out of place. Sweat dripped down his chest.

“Ah, and so she still knows how to hiss.” Jake said to himself and laughed.

Gently he nudged your hips to bring you to lay down on your side. Shifting to lay down beside you. His face looking back at yours. You were too content to feel embarrassed that he got to see you in this state. Jake didn’t seem to mind at all. He reached up to stroke your face. Licking his thumb lazily to wipe some of the smears away.

“You’re going to have to be a lot fiercer than that to get me to shush, mi pequeña leona.”

“Mi pequeña leona.” You test the words on your mouth. “My little what?”

Much too tired to be doing anything about him. You always liked the way he looked so proud when you practiced more of your Spanish for him.

“My little lioness.”

He leaned in to press a kiss against your head. His hand reached down to stroke over your ribs and down along the side of your body. You shiver and try not to move much.

“Lioness? Why? Because I bite first?”

“Si.” Jake smiled a little more. You loved seeing the way the corners of his eyes creased. How relaxed and content he looked. Took a long time to bring his guard down.

He leaned up on his arm and looked around. Dropping his head back into the pillow beside you with a dissatisfied sigh. You gave him an expectant look. You knew what he was about to say, and so you waited for him to say it anyway.

“He never brings you a towel before he fucks you, does he?”

And there it was. Same old, same old. You smile knowingly. Would have laughed better if you had more energy to. It comes out quiet and distant.

“Would you get me some water too?”

“For you? Anything.”

He started to get up, but dipped back down quickly to kiss against your temple. Muttering the words close to your head.

“Should I run you a bath too?”

“No, it’s okay. Think I should sleep it off.”

“Sure thing, chica. Back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

As if you could. You hummed your amusement as Jake disappeared off past the bookcase and beyond. You moved to roll onto your back and winced. The uncomfortable tingling sting along your rear had you rolling back onto your side again.

You took solace in knowing Marc would be just as hurt to find out he’d not been there to take care of you after. As rough as he could get, he always did love relishing in the after care. Stroking your body, making you a meal, or massaging you where you needed it.

You smile when you see him coming back through the doorway. Carrying a glass of iced water with a silicone straw. There was a damp towel folded and draped over his bare shoulder. Carrying himself differently. You could tell by the way he sauntered to your side it was still Jake.

His knee came up on the bed and leaning over you, he helped you to lift your head up enough to drink. A firm hand held you until you nodded a signal you were finished drinking. The cold of it was refreshing and needed after how long you’d gone without. He brought the glass to his own lips to drink the rest, narrowly avoiding the straw in his eye. You hear a crunch of ice between teeth. He chewed while placing the glass on the bedside table behind you. Moving in to curl up behind you. Light kisses along your shoulder.

“Gonna clean you up and get you under the sheets. Tell me if I’m too rough.”

“Please, I’m not fragile.”

“If you say so.”

Jake reached for the damp towel and tugged it off his shoulder. Bringing it down in a slow rub down over your ass. You breathe in sharp and tensed up to the wet cloth. It’d been ran under warm water but left cold in its wake.

“Okay okay. Gentle. Please.” You breathe.

“Si señora.” Jake mutters. Dipping in for another kiss against your shoulder.

He cleaned you up. Manipulating your leg to hold it up while he wiped down between your sticky folds. You making a noise for him, but Jake knew better than to play into your mood of wanting more. You needed to rest. He was tired too.

Soon enough he was moving again, getting the sheets from under to help bring them over the both of you. You helped, kind of. Rolling over to face him in the move.

“My turn.” You say.

“Not tonight. You need to-”

“No not that. Roll over.”

“Que?”

“I want to cuddle you for a change. Roll over.”

Jake gave you a hard stare, you half-expected him to refuse or talk his way out of it. Instead, his features relaxed and he leaned in to chase your lips for one last kiss before turning his back to you.

Your leg hitches up to wrap around his waist. Arm under his neck. Chest against his back. You kiss into his hair. Feeling Jake’s hand wrap around your wrist for his thumb to stroke.

“Mi pequeña mochila propulsora.” He snickered and you hummed in confused amusement.

“What am I this time?”

“My little jet pack.”

You were both breaking into laughter. Jake turned to catch another kiss of yours. A little messy but he seemed to need the contact, so you lifted your head to meet him. You cuddled up into him and before long, sleep soothed any aches that remained. Jake didn’t move. Lay there for the longest time listening to you breathe before sleep caught up with him too.

[little-worm-grant]

Woah look how amazing this sketch is?!

Khonshu sketch