nsfw alphabet headcanon.
_sp aslam chaudhary.
a = aftercare.
he likes to feed you with his own two hands after you two are done for the minute, he wouldn't like to keep you hungry, physically or otherwise.
sometime during your after-sex smokes, his lips attach to yours. to get a taste, and then some more, a little more till he's back with his distractions again.
he keeps you well fed and well looked after, brushing your hair in the bathtub, the one he got made just for him to lay you in, after he ruins you.
b = body part.
his favourite part of you has to be your legs, tiny, slender, unable to run as fast as his legs can, when you tease him.
toned, smooth, something he can twist into torture leading upto eventual heavenly pleasure. until he has you cumming and squirming up in oversensitivity, it's only second to your hair.
your favourite part of him has to be those thick, obstrusive fingers, unrelenting and mercilessly forcing you to open up to him, prepping you or atleast trying to prep you for what's coming each and every time.
c = cum.
usually it is just an evidence of your frivolous activities but at other times, it's an act of degradation, dominance and putting you in your place.
when he gives you permission, he's get to show you exactly who you are, not letting you wipe it away, letting it sit between your thighs, reminding you each second who you belonged to, giving you exactly what you trot around enticing him for.
d = dirty secret.
he likes it when you get yourself off on him without his help. just his darling so whiny for him without even a single touch. he likes it even better when you wake him up with it in the middle of the night, half asleep groggily with his thigh wedged between your sweet cunt, rubbing yourself on it like a bitch in heat. he likes that your drive is one that can at times almost surpass his.
e = experience.
he's had a lot of women in his youth, and no one has escaped that knowledge, not even you. it would be false to deny your feelings of inferiority when you first became his lover, though slowly but surely you came to find out the very value of your actions and how helpless you could make him at times.
you knew then that weren't any less than him, with your skillful mouth and your random visits to his office late at night all spent on reminding him who he belongs to, and who he leaves back at home each day.
when you have even got him babbling, groaning out apologies for his mistakes, you know you shouldn't be the least concerned about the 'difference' in experience between you two.
f = favorite position.
his favourite position is when he lays you in bed, with your hands held hostage above your head, unable to touch him, looking so pathetically whorish, needing to touch him. your expressions as you attempt you writhe out of his hold, are addictive to him.
g = goofy. skip
h = hair.
he has hair like most men do, but it is somehow..better? dark, coarse and absolutely stunning, going from his chest right down to his torso and more and you are not disappointed in the slightest.
i = intimacy.
aslam makes you feel...intense. even the word intense seems ingenious to the emotions that he puts you through.
it's implausible to for you to feel any doubt of his love for you, when you can feel it increasing each and everyday in ferocity.
his love feels renewing, heavenly, almost divine.
j = jerk off.
he prefers your hand better than his own, you know how to make him feel good. why would he do such a thing, when he has such a beautiful woman to help him with it, sometimes even begging to do so.
k = kink.
prey play. to be able to chase you, so sure of his meal and you trying to escape despite the inevitable.
making him run around, just to drive up the intensity, make your heart leap out of your chest and your thighs feel shakey enough that he has to hold you up.
l = location.
out of all the places he's had you, his office is the best, with you trying your best to be quiet for him, his angel, trying to hold back from screaming his name loud enough that the whole office could hear you.
he likes you being scared of somebody walking in, knowing that in seconds he can have you not care about it as long as he is inside you. at those times, he knows you wouldn't care if you were being heard halfway across lyari.
but of course, he'd kill anyone that got to lay they eyes on you when you were like that.
m = motivation.
you keep him going each day, you make him remember that he has to come home each day, alive, he's been more careful about his life since you stepped in.
other than emotions, your touch, your body, your skin and warmth, they are more than enough to call him home every day, like a siphon, the day only ends when you are in his arms, as you should be.
n = no.
he wouldn't ever stop before you get to cum unless he's punishing. he never let's you use toys or entertain the idea of a threesome. though your suggestions were only made with the intentions to rile him up, you found out that the answer, even theoretically would be a no go. especially when he kept you writhing in bed for days after, proving to you he's all that you could ever need.
o = oral.
he has you on your knees like a habit, to remind you just how good it feels when he's in control. to make sure you remember just how to take him. make sure you give back for all he's given to you. remember how he's kneeled between your thighs to devour you, just to make his girl feel good.
p = pace.
there is no set pace with him, and you both prefer that. a little surprise each time you fuck is almost pleasurable. the thrill of it, the knowledge of not knowing what happens next is what you both like.
q = quickie.
he's rushed you into dark corridors and quiet rooms, trailing kisses down your spine, accidentally tearing your dresses, leaving you all hot and heavy.
he has had to hide your body on the way back to your room so you didn't have to walk around half naked as a result of this.
r = risk.
forgetting about his risqu├й acts for a sceond, you don't have much of a clean slate either, egging him on in public, your feet nudging his crotch under the dinner table when you have guests, knowing he could just as well have you on the table in front of everyone if he wanted to.
s = stamina.
his stamina has often left you needing to cancel meetings and appointments. he is ruthless and he's had to help you work up your strength to be able to take him and follow along with all of his whims.
t = toys.
he is not as open to toys as he is to lingerie, buying you the newest styles from each season, he requires you to model each of them for him both before AND after buying them.
but he doesn't let you change until he thinks you have thanked him enough for each and every item, letting him use you as he sees fit and letting you show your appreciation in any way he sees fit.
u = unfair.
it's unfair how well he treats you, knowing that no one can do it like him. how you can't go back to your boy toys now that you've met a real man.
who knows exactly what you need and want. he knows when you need to be punished and praised.
he knows how to fuck you silly and take care of you after instead of running away unlike all of those other losers.
he understands your every whine and moan better than anyone. it's unfair that he holds so much power over you, but you love it.
v = volume.
aslam doesn't hold back when it comes to being vocal, it is just a virtue to him. to him real men do not refrain from showcasing pleasure. as for you, he takes your volume as a challenge to see how far he can push you.
w = wild card. skip
x = x-ray.
under his kurta always lays a silver chain with a charm on it, one that you had gifted him, thin enough to hid under his clothes, with your initials on it.
and it turned you on that it hung over you when you had sex, taking it in between your teeth and biting.
he likes that you enjoy your own gift so much. always pulling him in with it, before pressing an unchaste kiss and running away.
y = yearning.
he was a calm man before you came along. equally levelheaded and unaffected by deep emotions. buut now he's restless without you near him, wihout him having you right in his field of his vision.
he figured he can make sure of your safety by keeping you sat on his lap, not minding who's looking but for the tomes you were couldn't be near he went as far to buy you a pendant with your birthstone, without telling you it had a tracker inside.
he could be possessive but it didn't originate from some psychotic obsession rather from his deep mistrust of the world, wanting to keep you as safe as he could with a world full of people who wanted to take his peace away.
though it didn't take you more than a few hours to figure out the tracker, of course you did, you were his little sly bug, always too smart for your own good.
he hoped to give you a life where you didn't have to look over your shoulder and overanalyze everything to the T.
where you didn't have to exert your lifeforce in trying to be quick. and maybe he was succeeding by little.
z = zzz.
his hands trail to your hair, then tangling with your own when he's sure you're too deep in sleep to notice. fingers brushing over where he thinks a ring should be.
an indicator that you're his, for everyone to see.
he might try to make it out as it doesn't effect him as much, your love, but he will never let you believe that he doesn't love you much more, that is just a weak man's motive. he'll make the declaration every single day, to make sure you know.
though it might not be as emotionally extravagant. it sure is physically.
