Scourge of Overwatch (Junkrat X Reader)

4: Stickybomb

You sit upright on your bed, biting your thumbnail as your legs are snugly tucked within your arms. With all the craziness which ensued over the past few days, you couldn't bring yourself to sleep soundly, let alone at all. You moan and lie back into bed, glancing at the alarm clock on your bedside.

"5:21AM," you huff. You have roughly an hour and nine minutes to rest before you have to plaster a smile and head off to work. Who knew being a hero could be so arduous? As you cozy up with your heated body pillow, your eyes begin to drift closed. You nuzzle the body pillow for a second before your blood-shot ridden eyes shoot open. You don't own a body pillow.

"Who knew gals were so vulnerable without a coupla z's," Jamison snickers from your grasp. You squeak and quickly push the bare-chested heathen off of your fluffy bed.

"Oi! What in tha' fuck was tha' for?" He mopes and groans in pain. He staggers up from the floor, rubbing his hip.

"How in the world did you get in my room?" You scrunch up your nose and hug your pillow to your body, slightly creating a distance between you two. Ignoring your question, he plops himself onto the edge of your bed.

"Can ye' believe the gall on Roadie? Kicked me outta my damn room all becauseuva' 'sanitary issue'. What a jerk-off, amirite?" He scoffs and rants. You open your mouth to reply then shake your head and exclaim, "Get out, Jamison!"

"Mm, no!" As he sassily replies you kick him off the bed. He doesn't take that too kindly and immediately retaliates by mounting and towering over you, leaving you backed up against the headboard.

"Don't kick me off the damn bed again."

"O-Okay," you fluster and gently push him off of you. He grimaces and places you onto his lap as he begins his soliloquoy.

"Thank ye' kindly. Now, to address the matter at hand, ya?" He asks softly.

"Please, please, PLEASE lend a bloke a hand and let me crash here for a speck of time," he bounces you up and down on his peg leg.

'He's getting more annoying by the second, but it doesn't seem like I'll be sleeping soon if I decline.' You think to yourself.

"Fine, only for today. Afterwards, you're on your own."

"Brilliant!" He cackles and brushes back his hair, shaking out loose soot. Jamison proceeds to remove his belt, shoes, row of explosives, and scoops you into a spooning position.

"I'll just up and set up shop 'ere if ye' don't mind," Jamison's fingers linger above your chest. "Don't mind if I do." He snakes his fingers around them, attempting to massage. His lips graze the back of your neck. You bite your lip and shut your eyes, shutting him down.

"Sleep on the floor."

He smugly snickers and unhooks himself from you, dragging a pillow with him. Hook and sinker. If he didn't get your attention before, he surely has now. How could this idiot captivate you?

"It's kinda lonely down 'ere," he complains. You cry in frustration.
"Go to sleep, Jamison."

You feel his bionic hand lace around your ankle and quickly drag you off of the bed and down on top of him. Before you could object, you are cuddled. Your cheeks flush as his arms cage you, as you would interpret, protectively. You press your hands against his strong frame. You notice he is silent and most likely asleep. It's 6:00AM. Too restless to fuss, you eventually give in and wrap your arms around him. Joining him in a surprisingly comfortable 30-minute slumber.