…maybe how some burs would react to locktober… or chastity in general…
Oooooooo….. I have so many thoughts.
L’manbur: he doesn’t have an opinion on it at first, knowing when he has a challenge presented to him, he won’t back down. He’s super cocky at first, saying how it’ll be so easy and he’ll last. But once he gets hard after your relentless teasing one night, he’s begging you to take it off and let him cum. To let him fuck you or for you to ride him so good. He’d do anything. But you’re the only one that can take it off, so of course you make him wait the whole month, which makes him an even whiney bitch.
Pogtopiabur: he hates it. He doesn’t not like being in control of himself so the idea of doing it sounds terrible. But the promise of absolutely ruining you at the end of the month and letting him do whatever he wants, whenever, made the whole thing a bit better. So when he feels his dick straining against the cage, bucking into the air for anything, his sensitive cock rubbing against him, he remembers the promise you made him and deals with it all. Because sooner or later he’d have you in his position. (He would definitely make you do no nut November)
Ghostbur: guys he’s my sweet boy I would never do that to him. I’d give him anything he wants.
Revivebur: oh this man takes it like a champ! He’s a masochist for a reason. Every time he gets hard, he taunts you with it. Manspreads and presses his hips in the air to show off his hard cock when you look at him, smirking at you as he sees you rubbing your thighs together and face turning red. He reversed the roles, making you complain about his actions while he was the one being restrained from even fucking his hand, barely doing anything to make you whine about this all.
“Well this was your idea love… no stopping now. I’ve already started…”
Simpbur: whines the whole time, doesn’t even last a whole week. Why would you do that to him?! You know he can’t not fuck you, The second you put it on, his hips are desperately chasing your hand and his voice whining for you to take it off. I’m not lying, he’s most likely hard the whole fucking time. He’s a pathetic slut. When you finally take it off, it’s because your annoyed of his whines and complains on how he needs to cum and how much he needs to fuck you. So you decide to fuck him. Let’s just say- peg than ride. He deserves to be treated like a toy after that.
Incelbur: takes it all for you. If it makes you happy seeing him in pain and suffering for the whole month, especially when you look so fucking good, he’ll take it. He wants to show you he can be what you need, a strong man who can obey whatever you ask. A man that can trust you and he’ll take everything you give him. He does complain here and there, just wanting to fuck you and claim you as his. But he knows at the end of all of this he’ll be able to hold you close and fuck up into you all night, hearing your whines and moans that are all because of him.
Phantombur: he’s lowkey 50/50, he doesn’t hate the idea of it, but he isn’t sure if he wants to do it. So you compromise with him, if he leaves it on and wants to take it off for a few days or just be done, you’ll still count it as winning for him since he was such a good boy for you and tried. Oh and he tries. He goes for a solid week and a half before asking you to take it off, quickly grabbing you and grinding against you as you took it off.
“Never again, didn’t like it. Please, please let me fuck you!”
Argbur: doesn’t mind it until it strains against his cock. He lowkey forgets about it until he moves a certain way or you do something to turn him on. He doesn’t like the strain of it against his cock, the restrain making him whine and groan as the throbbing pain that shot through his lower abdomen made itself apparent. But other than that, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t complain, even when he’s hard because he knows he can do this back to you, and he will and he will make it hell.
c!wilbur: (Wilbur soot but Minecraft) secretly loves it yet complains any given moment. He likes annoying you with the fact that he has to be locked up for the rest of the month, unable to fuck you like he knows you need it. He also likes being restrained, being tested for long it takes him to finally give in and admit his lose. There is times where he gets really desperate whiney and he will not give you a break about it.
“Baby please, I bet you need a good dick down and fuck I need to feel you around me so-“
ghost!wilbur: fucking despises it! They never really had that when he was alive, still coming up with better condoms and ways to have safe sex. And now you tell him there’s a device where his cock can be in a sort of jail? For a month? Fuck no. It takes a lot of convincing from the man, once again the promise of getting to use you in any way he wants hanging in the air. He does in fact complain. He doesn’t whine, tho, just bitches about how uncomfortable he is and how anyone would like this. Does in fact tease you though, since he can go invisible….
“Ok fine, but I get out of this on Halloween so I can fuck you on the back porch”
vampirebur: this man is kinky…. Of course he likes it. He’s lived for centuries upon centuries trying new things with different people, yet what you want intrigued him. He’s never heard of it and frankly he’s pleasantly surprised, a device where he’s locked up and unable to do anything? Sign him up! He also incorporates you into it as well- if he doesn’t get to cum at all this month, well…. You have to cum everyday for him and he won’t stop until he’s satisfied with how many you’ve had. And if you tell him you don’t want to cum one day, you lost and he wins, vise versa.
“C’mon dear, I have to make it fair! Now take your pants off and lie on your back.”
this is stuff I had sent around as asks to old friends and am now posting— some additions have been made to the pogbur one.
——
I believe Revivebur would not be able to handle flirting. I’m talking old-fashioned Victorian flirting: showing up at his house (Phil’s house, we all know the man is a squatter) with flowers, writing him poetry, kissing him on the back of the hand— you know.
it’s the one kind of flirting that would be most effective because he doesn’t know how to react to it. He can’t get his guard up on time, so he’s just left flabbergasted. Absolutely bamboozled, mouth open, eyes wide, completely stunned. The first time at least.
not that all the following times go any smoother for him.
🍂🍂🍂
Pogtopia Wilbur finding love letters around his room in the ravine. Anonymous, always some sickly sweet poem. His first reaction is paranoia, then anger, then a mix of the two— who’s sending these? Are they joking? What are they planning?
But he can’t bring himself to throw them away. He keeps them stashed in his pockets and under his ratty mattress. As time goes on, he actually lets himself smile at the notes sometimes. Reread them, even, when he’s laying down on his bed with only a flickering lamp for company.
But he never tries to figure out who’s sending them. He avoids it, actually, in fear that it’ll become too real if he ever sees his admirer’s face. That if he finds out who it is, he’ll ruin that relationship too.
🍂🍂🍂
thinking about revivebur and baths
in a completely sfw sense---- with the combination of water temperature and body heat, him taking a bath with his s/o must be very warm. thaws out any chill or ache from spending eons in limbo
its not much of a bath and more of a cuddle session while mostly submerged in hot water
you make up for pulling him out of the tub (which he sleepily protested) by wrapping him in a towel and drying off his hair, letting him go limp as he clings onto you, eyes closed as you rub the towel into his scalp
and afterwards, the feeling of being clean as he slips into bed? its heaven. best sleep he's gotten in a while.
🍂🍂🍂
Thinking about Lmanbur.
Finding wilbur asleep at his presidential desk and carrying him to his chambers despite being a little over half his height. Maybe he wakes up halfway to the room, and he’s just being carried around like a doll. Imagine if he flails around in surprise and ends up knocking the both of you over.
S c a l p. m a s s a g e s. during the stressful time of the election
Imagine coming in late at night to find him still working at his desk. The two of you start talking, and you end up on the floor, sitting across from each other, toes touching and knees brought up to your chests (his back against his desk and yours against the wall). At one point he starts talking about the war, and it turns to him holding out his hands, palms facing up. You meet him in the middle, reaching out your own hands to hold his, gently tracing the scars. Eyes soft and downcast, he stares at his hands as you pet them, murmuring some quiet thoughts about the effects of the war and the difficulty of being president— the distant look in his eyes almost suggesting that he’s talking to himself. But then he looks up at you, face grim and tired and so worn, yet relieved that there’s at least one person he can be human with, without the constant fear of accidentally ruining their image of a confident, silver tongued president and revolutionary (no matter how hard you try and assure him that nobody would think less of him if he showed weakness for once– especially not tommy. But it's like talking to a brick wall). You hold your arms out, open, and he just pitches forward slowly, head coming to rest on your chest as he slumps against you. His hair tickles your face and you scrunch up your nose, running a hand through the brown curls to flatten them away from his face… which makes him sigh happily at the feeling and go limp. Eventually he falls asleep.
Offering a kiss for every hour he sleeps and abstains from work. He sleeps for eight hours? Eight kisses in the morning! He sleeps for only three? Only three. Good incentive, but you can hardly convince yourself to stick to the plan and always end up giving him more kisses than he had “earned”-- because in reality he deserves all of them.
anything pogbur. im desperate for that stupid emo man
sorry this is so late!
NOTES AND WARNINGS:
These follow the scenario that Wilbur and Reader are Currently in relationship
THIS IS C! NOT CC!
Pogbur called Wilbur and Pogbur interchangeably
Reader referred to in second person (you/yours) in some cases, in third person (they/them) in others.
Wilbur is aware of and planning his upcoming death, so: SUICIDAL IDEATION TW
Poor self care tw (is that a thing?)
Non-sexual intimacy/nudity (bathing).
Some info may be repetitive
I have not proofread this but I probably will in the coming days.
A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)
Pogbur isn’t very affectionate, due to all his internal and external struggles. At one point, you get him to open up a little, and that marks some of the first actual affection he displays during your time in the ravine. He’s always a little distant, mentally, but if you sit next to him by the fireplace during one of those rare times he’s not busy, he’ll take your hand and trace random shapes into the back of it with his thumb, maybe wrap an arm around your shoulder to tug you closer and kiss the side of your head.
B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)
N/A, would be in L’manburg
C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)
Pogbur has a love-hate relationship with cuddling. On one hand, he craves the physical contact and short-circuits every time you put your arms around him. On the other hand, the intimacy reminds him of his L’manburg era, and tends to lead him down another rabbit hole of agonizing over how much he’s changed, how much everything has changed and how there’s no way to get it back. There’s no other option. He has to destroy it all.
D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)
Settling down is the last thing on Wilbur’s mind.
Even in L’manburg, neither of you had ever planned to have kids. Wilbur had intended to remain President until the end of his days— maybe, when things settled down with the war and setting up a new country, the two of you could have built a house together, maybe gotten a few cats. You had picked out the plot of land, too; a nice field next to a river, right across the sugarcane plantation.
When sneaking into L’manburg for the Red Festival, you caught Wilbur staring at that same plot of land.
E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)
He’d let them come to the conclusion on their own as he distances himself and makes himself as unpleasant as possible. Avoiding them, giving clipped answers when forced to talk to them, sometimes outright ignoring them. When they eventually confront him about how they no longer feel like they’re in a relationship, he shrugs and goes “guess we aren’t.”
And that’ll be that.
F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)
Up until the very end of his third life, Pogbur lives in fear of commitment. He tries his absolute best to distance himself, in hopes of making his… final plan hurt less for the both of you. But the night before it all goes to hell, he’s lying awake in bed— next to you, for once— and feels like he’s drowning as your hand finds his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Before Wilbur knows what he’s doing, he rolls over and wraps his arms around you. After a few heartbeats, you return the hug and he speaks.
“Will you marry me?”
It’s a manipulative, selfish move and he knows it. But he’s a manipulative, selfish man, and so when you agree, he slips a stone ring— a gift from his father, many years ago— off his hand and onto yours. He apologizes for the lack of a real wedding ring.
He promises that he’ll get a proper one when this is all over.
Wilbur seals the lie with a kiss to your forehead, basking in one last moment where this person— this lovely, supportive person who chooses to stay with him even though they deserve so, so much better— is his.
G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)
Physically, ridiculously so. Wilbur is afraid to touch you. He will hover around you, never curling his hands to actually hold your arm: Choosing to ghost brushes against your shoulders to redirect you or grab your attention.
If you need his help getting up after a fall, he’ll offer a hand/arm to you but will wait for you to take it and use it as a crutch.
Emotionally, he’s quite absent. But he still tries his best to spare your feelings when he does talk to you about how he’s doing (by downplaying his struggles).
H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)
Pre-opening up to you, Wilbur hesitantly accepts any offer of a hug as long as it’s in private. He melts every time, even though he would never admit it. His mind goes blank, unable to process the affection after extended periods of time convincing himself that he was despised by everyone around him.
After opening up to you, he’s more comfortable saying no when he feels like he’s spiraling too much for physical contact. A strained smile, a subtle shake of the head, and you leave him alone. He’s thankful.
However, he also starts using it in more self-destructive ways, denying affection because he feels like he doesn’t deserve it.
I = I love you (How often do they say the L-word?)
On his own, Wilbur doesn’t say “I love you” explicitly— it holds too much weight, reminds him too much of the connection he’s trying to sever before he dies. He does, however, murmur sweet things in passing like “you’re my light”, telling you that he loves you without ever actually saying the words.
When you say “I love you” first, though, he almost always follows with a soft “I love you too.” Maybe only a few times he finds himself too choked up to respond, and simply turns away from you.
J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)
Ohh this guy is the most jealous of the burs.
He is constantly on edge about you betraying him and Pogtopia, of course he’d also worry about you just.. growing tired of him. He’s terrified that you’ll finally realize that he’s not worth the effort, that the facade of the strong, confident leader was just that— a facade.
He rarely has good days anymore, and stresses both of you out. So of course you’d look happier talking to anyone else. Doesn’t mean that you would happier with someone else, but Wilbur can’t bring himself to accept that.
He doesn’t deserve you. So he’ll watch you laugh with another Pogtopian from afar, stomach twisting at the knowledge that it had been weeks since you had laughed like that with him.
He’s bitterly jealous. But he tells himself that, for a brief moment, he would stop being selfish if he would just let you go.
K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)
Most of Pogbur’s kisses are distracted brushes of his lips against your cheek or the side of your head, done as a quick greeting or goodbye.
Sometimes, when you’re both sitting in front of the fire and there’s no one else around, he presses his lips to your hand or head and just— keeps them there. Breathing you in, staring at the flames.
As for receiving kisses, he ends to avoid any on the mouth because they remind him of his currently poor hygiene.
Similarly to cuddling, he has a complicated view on temple/eyelid kisses. He craves them, but at the same time hates how emotional they make him feel.
Pogbur prefers kisses on the head or cheek because they’re quick, affectionate, and don’t make him want to cry.
L = Little ones (How are they around children?)
Nope.
There’s no little kids in pogtopia, and even if he did come across one, he’d hand the responsibility over to someone else.
M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)
Most days, you wake up alone. Sometimes you wake up to the sound of him getting out of bed and leaving at 2, maybe 3 in the morning, never having even noticed he had gone to bed.
On the rare occasions that you wake up first and/or that he sleeps until a more reasonable hour, it’s more pleasant. He hums in his sleep as you play with his hair, curling closer to you with a sigh as he basks in the affection he cannot bring himself to accept when awake.
N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)
When you happen to sleep in the same intervals, he’s usually curled away from you, facing the wall. Sometimes he’s facing towards you, allowing you to hold him while he traces shapes into your arm.
O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)
At one point, you put your foot down. Somehow, you manage to get him to come to be early, whether that be through incessant nagging or begging or guilting.
You notice that he’s hesitant to hold your hand or even be seen walking next to you where others could see you. You don’t take offense, you know it’s not because he’s ashamed of you. You simply ask him if he’d like to walk to your rooms separately, and offer to go first so he doesn’t have to have his back towards you. You let him search the room for any weapons, staying with your hands in full view the entire time.
Wilbur feels awful, treating you like this— like you’d stab him in the back as soon as you got the chance. He expects to see your brows furrow with hurt, your jaw clench with barely concealed frustration as he checks the thin mattress for anything suspicious.
But you don’t.
You wait patiently at the mouth of the cave until he’s done, and gesture to your clothes. “No pockets.” You tell him. “Nowhere to hide weapons.”
He nods, watching as you get into bed and place your hands flat on top of the covers.
“I’m sorry.” Wilbur rasps.
“Don’t be.” You lift the covers and he crawls in, laying down next to you as your hands interlock with his. If your hands stay in his, you can’t reach for a weapon. “What can I do to make you feel safe?”
Safe.
Wilbur stared at your conjoined hands.
Safe.
Safe, lying in a cave tens of blocks below the surface of the earth, a bounty on his head after losing everything, after having been betrayed by half the people he knew. He wanted to laugh, but you had been so kind to him— he wanted to repay you somehow.
Wilbur closed his eyes, still holding onto you. “Just stay here.”
P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)
He’s more prone to frustration rather than anger.
No, you don’t understand. He’s dangerous, hopeless— why can’t you understand??
Perhaps in the beginning he would raise his voice a little. After one fight where he actually yelled at you, he took one look at your stunned expression before faltering, clearing his throat with a strained “…excuse me” and stumbling out of the room.
Wilbur didn’t yell at you after that. He couldn’t stand to see that expression on you again. Whenever he gets angry now, he just turns and walks away, even if you’re mid-conversation.
Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)
He forgets things like celebrating your birthday or anniversary or the things you tell him duringPogtopia but remembers all the little quirks about you. How the very corners of your lips tilt upwards when you purse your lips in irritation, how you pivot on your heel when you pace, how you lift your shoulders when you laugh as if trying to curl into a ball.
R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)
Wilbur’s favorite moment in your entire relationship would never be in Pogtopia. It would be either in L’manburg or after he is revived.
However, his favorite memory from that specific time period would either have to be from before the Red Festival. After he opens up to you, you find it a lot easier to get him to take care of himself, or at least let you do it for him.
At one point, you could get him to take a bath. There’s a spring somewhere in the ravine (is that what you call cave ponds? Idk). It’s not the best place for a bath since the water drips straight from the stalagmites and is full of sediments/minerals, but it’s the best Pogtopia has.
Helping someone bathe already requires incredible trust between the involved individuals, so you can imagine how much trust Wilbur would have to give you in order to have his back towards you for an extended period of time without the slightest defense. Especially if you’re cutting his hair— he’d be letting you approach him, from behind, with a sharp object.
Despite all that trust, Wilbur’s still a little afraid, probably needing a moment every once in a while to calm himself. But when you start washing his hair—Head empty. No thoughts, eyes drifting shut as you rub the shampoo in his hair. You help him lay back until his hair is underwater and rinse it out. You do this several times since his hair is so greasy, and by the time you’re done he’s on cloud nine.
You almost do a double take when you look at him during the last rinse. He looks calmer, more content than he has been for months, the line between his eyebrows gone and his lips parted, so relaxed he’s almost meditating.
He doesn’t even notice you’ve stopped until you touch his face, tracing your index finger across his cheeks and biting the tip of his nose playfully.
Wilbur wrinkles his nose, and for the first time in months, he laughs. Just a little.
S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)
Wilbur is usually concerned over his own safety, constantly looking over his shoulder as if expecting a knife to the back. But sometimes, he’s hit with the deep fear that someone is out to get you too. If you or any of your allies get injured, you’ll see a shift in his behavior. Suddenly stopping in the middle of the ravine as you’re going about your day, staring at you for a few seconds as if realizing that you’re there. Wilbur walks up to you, hesitating. He nervously wets his lips and tells you that he’s switched your morning task to helping Technoblade out with the potato farms instead of going out for supplies.
T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)
None. In between the whole “preparing-for-war” thing and actively trying to distance himself, your relationship has basically taken an unofficial hiatus. Sure, you exchange hugs and forehead/cheek kisses sometimes, but besides that, you’ve become very affectionate friends.
.
U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)
Unfortunately, at this stage of his life, Wilbur is not putting any effort into the relationship. It’s unhealthy, and both of you know that. But in addition to being your lover, Wilbur is your friend, and you aren’t going to let him go through this alone.
So you stick by him.
V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)
Wilbur barely eats and drinks enough to get by without risking organ failure. He doesn’t give much thought into his appearance. However, on the occasion that he lets you hold him, he does feel hyperaware about how his shirt is stained, how he hasn’t shaved in weeks, and how his hair is greasy as all hell.
He doesn’t do much about it , though.
W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)
Mm, depends.
Wilbur already feels incomplete without L’manburg, and already spends most days alone. If you were to die, however, he would absolutely feel more hopeless, but not necessarily incomplete.
X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)
If you hand Pogbur anything— any gift, whether it’s a lovingly-handcrafted scarf or a cool feather you found off the ground— he will take it. Stare at it for a few seconds, sure, but he will carefully take it from your hands with a muttered ‘thank you’.
He keeps everything you (and his other friends) give him. What he can’t sew to the insides of his coat, he keeps in his pockets.
Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)
Coddling him too much. He loves being taken care of, even though it’s difficult for him to accept the affection most days, but he does NOT want to feel infantilized. Don’t overdo it. He’s an adult man.
He also wouldn’t like a partner who breaches his boundaries when he doesn’t feel like initiating physical contact due to paranoia/etc. If your desire to have a boyfriend to cuddle with is stronger than your desire to allow him to feel safe, then he’s avoiding you like the plague. Don’t guilt trip him into giving or receiving affection. It’ll work—- but he’ll resent you for it.
Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)
On the rare occasion that he does sleep, he sleeps on his side, curled up facing the wall. On a select few days, he holds you so tightly that a tornado couldn’t separate you two.
