#multiverse!noah

[concretejunglefm]

[concretejunglefm]

This with virgin Noah? Best friend Noah? VA Noah? All of the Noahs?😩

hi bb 💕 i have taken creative liberties and pulled in virgin, himbo, va and noah into this scene 🤭

cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. multiple partners, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, sub!noah vibes, light choking, multiverse!noah.

“I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.” The quip comes from behind you, from one Noah—VA, to another—Himbo.

“Give him a chance already. I mean, do you think you’ll have any luck?” Himbo teases back, nudging the younger version of himself as both of them watch on with amusement.

Beneath you, Virgin trembles. Your hand is pressed to his throat, his tattoo still fresh and more vibrant than the ones etched into your Noah or Himbo. His Adam’s apple bobs beneath your palm.

“Eyes on me, baby. Just look up here,” you purr, your fingers tightening around his throat just enough to make his breath stutter. A broken sound escapes him, his eyes glazing over yet still locked on you. His hands clutch at your hips, trying to guide you as you roll them slowly, grinding down to meet his thrusts. His cock is buried deep inside you, your walls squeezing around him. You can feel every twitch, every shudder, each movement dragging him closer to the edge.

You wet your lips with a slow sweep of your tongue before leaning down to catch the youngest of them in a heated kiss. That’s all it takes. He spirals, his breath catches, a meek, desperate sound slipping from him as he clutches at you, pulling you closer as he cums, filling you with a warmth that makes your lips part in a moan, as his head falls back against the pillows, breathing your name.

“Well done, baby. You did so good,” you whisper, and his cock twitches inside you at the praise, but before you can catch your breath, VA—impatient as ever, is already pulling you up, dragging you off Virgin’s cock and into his lap.

“Yeah, well done for lasting all of five seconds. My turn.” He grins cheekily, and you roll your eyes before feeling him guide himself against your wet entrance, sinking you down onto him. Your hand flies up, fingers wrapping around his throat. It’s an instant reaction, his eyes glaze over, his body going almost completely submissive beneath your touch.

Your smirk turns slow, wicked. “Oh, this is what you wanted, huh?” you murmur, leaning closer until your lips drag against his in a teasing taunt. You start to roll your hips, slow and steady, letting him fill you completely as he moans softly against your mouth.

“You want me to turn you into my toy now?”

Any trace of impatience melts away. VA nods, obedient under the pressure of your hand at his throat. You stay in his lap, bouncing in a slow, deliberate rhythm, when familiar warm hands find your body—electric and grounding. You turn your head, expecting your Noah, but it’s Himbo behind you instead.

Your Noah sits at the edge of the bed, his hand fisting his cock as he watches you, eyes dark and heavy with hunger.

Oh, how far you’ve come—from him being utterly confused by whatever rip between universes brought these versions of himself here, to now indulging in watching them with you.

The heat of Himbo’s breath at your neck makes your eyes flutter, your walls tightening around VA’s cock at the attention you’re being given. As you start to quicken your pace, a hand dips between your bodies—Himbo’s, unmistakably. His touch is soft yet large and commanding, caressing you, finding every tender, weak spot as he latches his mouth to your neck. He leaves fresh marks on top of the countless others scattered across your skin, each one a small claim.

Your hand tightens around VA’s throat, and the sounds he makes grow needier, higher, his hips jerking beneath you.

“Don’t cum too soon,” Himbo teases, his tone dripping with amusement. “A real gentleman lets their partner cum as much as they need first,” he adds with a smirk, catching the flicker of frustration in VA’s glazed eyes.

You can almost picture the pout on Virgin’s face at that, but in your mind, he’s too sweet for this kind of talk—too soft, too edible. VA, though, he’s got that mouth on him, cocky and sharp, almost like Folio. The thought makes you laugh. You can just imagine the chaos those two would cause together in another life.

“Are you close, pretty baby?” Himbo coos against your ear, and you nod, the coil in your belly tightening as your pace quickens. “Make sure you cum nice and hard all over his cock,” he murmurs, never stopping his touch or his words.

Your hand tightens again around VA’s throat again, his breathing shallow and ragged, while Himbo catches your free hand and guides it to his own throat. The angle is awkward with how he’s pressed against you from behind, but you squeeze just right, enough to make his breath hitch. Against your lower back and ass, you can feel the thick, heavy weight of his pierced cock rubbing against your skin, the slickness of his precum smearing warmth across you.

The thought of him inside you—bigger, thicker, even than your own Noah, makes your head spin. You’ve had him in your hands, your mouth, but imagining him filling you completely sends you spiraling.

That’s all it takes. You fall apart, your body trembling as your walls clench tight around VA, drawing a broken moan from his throat. He follows almost instantly, voice quivering as he cums deep inside you.

Your head falls back against Himbo’s shoulder, your body shivering through the aftershocks as his hand strokes up your chest, over your throat, whispering soft, honeyed praises while you ride out the last waves of your release.

[concretejunglefm]

okay lexi hear me out: wax play with corrupted priest!noah, bent over the church altar 🧍‍♀️🧎‍♀️

idk what possessed me, but thank you for this thot bb 🤲💕

cw: 18 + 𝖒𝖉𝖓𝖎. corrupted priest!noah, blasphemy, sacrilegious, corruption, religious themes, wax play, wax pain, branding, pain kink, body worship, marking, reader referred to as ‘lamb’, power imbalance, implied dom/sub dynamics, devotion, praise.

Service is in session, and today, Father Noah chooses you to come to the front of the congregation, the chosen one to hold the candle he lights at the start. When he speaks your name, it comes softly, coaxing you toward him, his warm brown eyes settling on you, steady and alluring. You shuffle out from the pew, the soft sound of your footsteps against the stone floor drawing everyone’s attention.

A distinct flush spreads up from your neck, made all the more noticeable by the chill in the air, winter’s approach slipping into the church. It’s a detail Noah notices, though his face remains neutral. Internally, he savors the moment, the way your name leaves his lips and makes you flustered, how quickly you follow when he calls—one of his lambs answering the shepherd.

“Thank you,” he greets softly, his hands warm as they touch your arms, guiding you into place. Under his breath, he murmurs, “Just stand here.” His fingers brush along your wrist, grazing the flutter of your pulse beneath the skin. The corner of his mouth threatens a smile, a quiet thrill moves through him at the reaction he feels there. Then, turning his focus to the candle, the same one he lights at the beginning of every service, he places it carefully in your hands. His palms cup yours briefly, adjusting your grip, lifting your arms just enough to display it properly, positioned so the licking flame poses no danger.

Usually, he chooses a person, lights the candle, and sends them back to their seat. Today, he strikes the match, bringing it to the wick and watching as it catches, the flame sparking to life, before blowing out the match and turning his attention to the congregation.

Instead of taking the candle to set it in its rightful place and sending you to sit back down, he addresses his flock. Everyone hangs on his every word, eyes wide and breath held, while Noah speaks about his chosen topic, spiritual endurance—the reward one can earn by enduring the trials and tribulations set by God or, in this case, by himself.

Noah doesn’t ignore you, his gaze flickers back every so often, quietly observing your endurance. It isn’t long before the wax begins to melt and pool, overflowing and trailing down the column of the candle until it meets your hand. You don’t make a sound or show any visible discomfort when the hot wax touches your skin, but he catches the subtle press of your teeth against your lower lip, the way you steady your breath. He’s observant, curious, and most of all, intrigued by the possibility that you might like this.

By the closing of the service, you’re visibly trembling, though Noah senses it’s from more than just the pain of the wax that’s cooled and set upon your hands.

“You certainly endured,” he says coolly, a sly curve tugging at his lips as he takes the candle from you. Instead of blowing out the flame as he usually does, he keeps it burning, setting it aside still alight.

“That was… interesting.”

He sees through your attempt to brush it off, the flush in your cheeks, the way you try to avoid his gaze. Before you can move away, brushing the hardened wax from your skin, his hand finds your arm, a gentle but deliberate grip that draws your attention back. The pews are steadily emptying, bodies slipping past you both as the church grows quieter.

“If you wouldn’t mind staying behind…”

There’s no chance for you to answer, not because you don’t want to, but because it isn’t really a suggestion. His tone makes it clear it’s a command. People murmur their goodbyes as they leave, one by one, until it’s only you and him left in the church.

Slowly, he circles you, predatory in pace, deliberate in touch, his fingers sliding beneath your chin to tilt your head up. The pad of his thumb strokes your jaw, soft but commanding, his eyes heavy with want, brimming with hunger and adoration alike. “You’ve proven so much already,” he murmurs, voice low, “but I want to see the extent of your devotion… how much you’re willing to give.”

Always his favourite. Always the chosen one. The one he’d worship without question—now asked to return that same devotion.

Under his guidance, the fabric falls from your shoulders, his hands coaxing, stripping you bare. He bends you forward over the altar, the cool surface a shocking contrast to the heat of his body pressed behind you. His mouth follows the path of your spine, lips parting, teeth grazing in teasing nips before his tongue soothes the sting. His touch is everywhere, soft, warm, tattooed hands mapping every inch of you like he’s memorising you.

When he reaches your ear, his breath ghosts over it. “Show me,” he whispers, “how much you’re willing to devote yourself to me.”

He reaches for the candle, eyes never leaving your trembling form as he tilts it. The first drop of melted wax hits your back, a searing kiss that pulls a strangled gasp from you. Another follows, slower this time, the hot trickle chasing down the curve of your spine. Your moan breaks free before you can stop it, his name spilling from your lips.

“Just like that,” he praises, voice thick with pleasure. “Let me hear you.”

He tilts the candle again, guiding the pour lower, down across your lower back, the molten heat dripping over the swell of your ass. The sharp sound you make drives a groan from his throat, his free hand gripping your hip, thumb drawing slow circles as if to soothe the sting.

“That’s my lamb,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before another pour, more deliberate this time. The wax pools and hardens, marking you, claiming you, each line deliberate as he drags the candle upward. The reddened trails glow under the flickering light, every mark a letter, until his name etched into your skin.

By the time he’s done, you’re trembling under his touch, branded and breathless, every inch of you a living altar to his worship.

[concretejunglefm]

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 always wears his collar, no matter how far from the path he strays, he views it less as a sign of faith and more as a claim over his role as your guide and keeper.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 unlike your sweet priest, his hair is much shorter, cut to an easy length, still plentiful enough for you to run your fingers through or grab onto.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 his voice is always low and steady, something melodic, hypnotic—more like a lullaby than a sermon, designed to have his words linger in your mind long after he’s spoken them.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 pushes the indulgence of sin over shying away from it, or being punished for it, becomes his main focus. he encourages you, in particular, to follow your desires, to give in to your wants, because that is what the lord would want. he’s inviting you in.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 during sermons, his gaze lingers on you—heated and intense, making your skin prickle. he looks at you like you’re his chosen one.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 offers you wine during your ‘private confessions’, and sometimes it tastes sweeter than you remember.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 uses confession as a way to learn your weaknesses, your wants, your sins and secrets, things he can twist, using them to lure you in.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 to keep you from resisting, he reminds you of the sins he’s absolved you from, how he has the power to absolve anything. all you have to do is what he asks—give him your loyalty, your obedience.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 has no shame in indulging in the primal, cardinal desires he has for you, pressing himself against you so you feel his bulge, bending you over the altar and hiking up your dress just to eat you out, even using your squirt as a form of baptism for you and for himself.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 makes use of his rosary for sinful means, claiming you’ll feel closer to god with the beads inside you.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 mixes scripture with filth, not to shame you, but to corrupt you further, feeding the notion of surrendering to your sinful desires.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 calls you his lamb or blessing—soft, innocent names, knowing you’re far from either, especially in bed, whether he’s delivering pleasure or punishment.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 seeks out new ways to punish you, insisting that if he does it, then god won’t have to, that he can absolve you of all.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 loves to have you on your knees before him, his hands cradling your face. he’ll kiss you tenderly before it bleeds into hunger, guiding you into something far more unholy.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 makes you tell him your sins mid fuck, just to feel the way you squeeze around him, how wet you get with the shame of your admissions.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 often keeps little items of yours, gifts you’ve given him, close on his person, just as a means of feeling connected to you, even when you’re not there.

𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔲𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱!𝔫𝔬𝔞𝔥 uses holy oil in unholy, sacrilegious ways.

[concretejunglefm]

thinking about the noah!multiverse and this probably doesn’t even cover half of what you let me ramble about; noah, himbo, VA, piecer, virgin, dealer, enchanted, priest/corrupted, yandere/stalker, ghostface, bestfriend, obsessed, pervy roommate, purge, mutant, fuckboy, fwb, demon, puppy

[concretejunglefm]

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐀𝐇-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 . . .

Introducing the core four: og!noah (also known as vanilla @madamaaubergine 🤭), va!noah, priest!noah, virgin!noah.

additional versions include: stalker/yandere!noah, obsessed bestfriend!noah, ghostface!noah, himbo!noah, enchanted!noah etc... inspired by this with @respectfulrebel 💕

[concretejunglefm]

top 5 of your Noahs🤭

NOW THIS IS UNFAIR HOW DO I PICK JUST FIVE?

I actually wrote out a list of how many versions I have and there's like... 10+ so now I am screwed 🫣

sub/priest!noah - any surprise when he's my boy? also it's not cheating when the only difference is one wears a collar of god, too 🤭

himbo!noah - just everything about him is so 🥰🫠😻

va!noah - the man who knows exactly the power he has with his voice, it's cruel really, he's cruel

virgin!noah - so easily corruptible and can be played with in so many scenarios, can be a sweetheart, a little pervert, all shy, anything you want

obsessed bestfriend!noah - because the lengths he will go to just to be close to you 🫠 ugh, his obsession and love for you fuel him, even if you're oblivious to his efforts