Chris Brown & August Alsina Imagines

He gets drunk (August Alsina)

“Uh uh, no more alcohol for you, babe, the bar’s been shut down,” I stand up to reach for the bottle but August is quick to pull me down on his lap and tightens his forearm over my stomach, careful not to burn me with the cigarette that’s clenched inbetween his middle finger and forefinger. “What you mean, the party’s just getting started,” he exhales. I could smell a strong scent of alcohol on his breath the second he pried his mouth open to speak. He takes another drag of the cigarette, blows smoke past my face then drops his forearm to lean atop of the armpad. “I know ya’ mama would probably kill you and all,” August starts off and chortles, “but you should really consider staying the night, you know,” I wave the smoke out of my face because of how thick the stream, while he nestles his face into my neck. “We’ll see,” I tilt my head upward to give his forehead a kiss.