Imagines

Sam Winchester (ClassicRock294)

This is going to be a long imagine...so hang the fuck on. Note, there is swearing and eventually smut. I will WARN YOU I PROMISE. I don't own Sam Winchester. I wish I did.

Sam Winchester Imagine (Rock Band AU)

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You are walking out of the concert hall when Sam Winchester, the amazingly hot leader of the punk rock band; The Colts, stepped in front of you. Your face goes bright red, as he is still wearing his tight black leather pants from the concert. Just pants. His satanic possession tattoo sits on his left pectoral, which is pulsing with....is that nervousness?

"Hey." He says, looking you up and down.

You aren't able to do much more than squeak, and he laughs.

"I noticed you at the concert, and at the signing beforehand. Do you want to, uh, go back to my dressing room and, uh, talk?" He says, definitely nervous.

You knew this look, and this question. You had never been asked this yourself, but you had some "socially gifted" friends. If you catch my drift.

"You want to have sex with me?" You say, incredulous.

"No, of course not! Well, not, uh, is that a bad thing?" He asks, his cheeks flushing bright red. He stammers and nervously fidgets with his hands.

"No, it's not a bad thing, I'm just., surprised." You say.

"With a hot body-" he claps his hands to his mouth, but when you timidly laugh he continues, "like yours, who wouldn't?"

"I just, I'm, I'm a, I'm a, virgin." You say quietly.

"Oh." He says. He looks so crestfallen you feel your heart sink a little. He turns to leave, his pants squeaking and he walks off.

There was something different about Sam, for being in a rock band. You hated to admit it, but you were a tad obsessed with his band, and honestly astounded at how you kept your cool when he talked to you. Talked to you. Jesus, bless adrenaline. Sam was the only member of the band with a college degree (in Experimental Engineering). And as if his lanky, muscular body and his shaggy brown hair and puppy dog eyes wasn't enough to blast your ovaries, he volunteers, does community service, and substitutes for world history at a local college.

You feel something blossoming in your chest. Is this guilt? Jealousy? Regret? Lust? You couldn't tell, and that scared you. All the sudden, this feeling got very strong, very fast, and you called out.

"Sam, wait!"

He turns around, hope blossoming in his eyes. You run over, and kiss him forcefully on the lips. He grabs your waist, and kisses you back, pulling your waist to his torso. His tounge begs for entrance, and you gladly let him in, entangling you hands in his luscious brown hair. When you break apart, you find staring straight into each other's eyes. His brown puppy-dog eyes are full of concern.

What the actual fuck did you just do. What the actual fuck did you just do. You can't possibly have a relationship with him. What the hell.

"Are you sure?" He asks, obviously for your benefit.

NONONONONONO is all you are actually thinking, but for some reason you end up playing it cool. You almost wish you couldn't.

"Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Here comes the regret in 3, 2, 1,

"Come on, I'm normal looking, I'm not a hourglass, and I am obsessed with your band. Your literally considering having sex with a 21 year old fan-girl-woman-thing who reads online fan fiction about you, and, and, you don't even know my name!"