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Guess who! It’s me, your favorite unhinged MF. This man is still a permanent resident in my brain, so here’s more on him. This came from a server idea I absolutely locked in on with a sketch, then wrote a fic to feed my hoes. So come dine, my loves—I love the Sparr-Hoes <3

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Sparrow | Enea Davide Guarino x GN!Reader - One thing leads to another (NSFW) Wordcount: 2,9k Short summary: Enea presses the wrong button and sends a delicate picture to the wrong contact. Luckily for him, he won’t have to fear ridicule for months; instead, he gets more than he bargained for… Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! Nudes sharing. Sexting. Sparrow is a dumbass. Bad Italian. Authors horrible art down below. Author needs this man so bad.(prolly forgetting stuff but oh well) -----------------

Enea Davide Guarino was no stranger to his life flashing before his eyes.

It had happened plenty of times: when he’d been dumb enough as a kid to tell his mother she’d “gained a little weight”, when he’d been just a bit too cocky during a bounty hunt, or that one unforgettable time he’d been cornered in a building by Caustic.

But the situation he was in now? This was worse. Way worse.

Worse than a bullet to the head. Worse than breathing in Caustic’s gas.

One minute he was feeling himself; fresh out of the shower, branded boxers, hair still damp, camera angled just right. He looked good, and he knew it. And he had every right to acknowledge it.

The next minute, he fumbled his phone; just a little slip, just a weird press… and hit send.

To the wrong contact.

Plenty of his contacts would’ve been fine. Embarrassing, sure, but survivable: Catalyst, Octane, Mirage, Lifeline, hell, even Rampart might’ve only laughed. For a month. Or two.

But Y/N?

He was cooked. Roasted maybe even.

He stared at their tiny, innocent little avatar on his screen like it was the face of doom itself. Right under it: the photo. That photo. The one that would haunt him forever and maybe force him into a hermit’s life. Being alone suddenly didn’t sound so bad.

Panicking, he snapped another photo, something safer, anything safer, and began hammering out an apology at Mach speed, thumbs a blur.

DIO MIO. IM SO SORRY. just forget I ever sent that?? Per favore? 🫣🙏 — Send.

He glanced around his room like the walls might offer him an escape. The stupid red mood lighting seemed to mock him, casting everything in an incriminating glow when just minutes ago it felt like the coolest thing ever.

He checked the app again. His stomach dropped.

They’d already opened it.

For a moment, he wondered if he could rig his bow to shoot himself. Disadvantage of being an archer; no conveniently placed gun for dramatic self-sabotage. Maybe Artemis could do it if he taught her how to pull a trigger.

Then, just as he was spiraling, his phone chimed.

A reply.

Enea stared at the notification like it was a live grenade. Slowly, he tapped it open, already bracing for the worst.

Y/N: …interesting choice of ‘what r u up to’ text.

His soul left his body. He dropped backward onto his bed, covering his face with both hands. He could practically hear their tone; amused, curious, not outright horrified but that was almost worse.

He scrambled to type.

Enea: THAT WASN’T FOR YOU. Enea: wrong chat. totally wrong chat. Enea: pls pretend ur eyes are broken.

He hovered a thumb over the keys (?), but it was far, far too late. They were typing again, and by doing it putting him into a freeze.

Y/N: lol relax, Guarino. I’ve seen worse. Y/N: …but not from you. This is new lmao

He choked on air. His brain went full static. Worse? Worse?! That was not the comfort he needed right now.

His fingers flew, sheer panic giving him speed.

Enea: wow thanks exactly what i needed to hear rn Enea: “worse” wow ur so kind Enea: also why do you keep on about it, just dropppp itttt

The three little dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. He sat up, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

Y/N: maybe bc it’s stuck in my head. You did look… confident.

Confident. CONFIDENT?! His brain supplied a thousand smug comebacks, but his hands refused to move, torn between leaning into the flirt or throwing himself off the balcony to escape the mortification.

Finally, he typed:

Enea: confident??? i look like a thirst trap fail. Enea: delete it from your memory before the universe implodes. per favore.

There was a pause. A long one. Just as he started hoping they’d let it die—

Y/N: …what if I don’t?

Every nerve in his body lit up at once. He could feel the shift, the line between harmless teasing and something heavier, something dangerous, like the snap of a bowstring pulled too tight.

His pulse hammered in his throat.

Enea: oh no. Enea: ohhh no no no. Enea: ur enjoying this.

Another pause. His screen lit again.

Y/N: maybe a little.

He swore under his breath, dragging a hand through his still-damp hair. The worst part? He wasn’t entirely horrified anymore. His embarrassment hadn’t vanished, but under it was something else; something warm, reckless, and impossible to ignore.

Enea was still glaring at the screen like it had personally betrayed him when another notification popped.

A snap. A picture.

He opened it with dread… and relief.

It wasn’t risqué. Not even close. Just Y/N, face angled with mock seriousness, holding a thumbs-up with the caption:

“10/10 thirst trap. would accidentally receive again.”

He buried his face in a pillow and groaned so hard Artemis flicked her tail in annoyance from the windowsill.

His fingers flew.

Enea: STOP. THIS IS ILLEGAL. Enea: I’M SUING. Enea: emotional damages, irreparable.

Almost instantly, the dots popped up.

Another snap. This time, Y/N was biting into a slice of pizza, half-lidded eyes exaggerated in faux seduction. Caption:

“u scared i’ll out-thirst you?”

“Madonna santa…” Enea muttered under his breath. His phone almost slipped out of his hand again. He typed fast.

Enea: YOU THINK THIS IS A GAME Enea: IT’S NOT A GAME Enea: I’M SWEATING THROUGH MY BOXERS

He regretted the last message the second he sent it. His jaw dropped. His soul left his body again.

They replied with just one line:

Y/N: …oh? 👀

His brain short-circuited. He scrambled to recover.

Enea: I MEANT SWEATING NORMALLY Enea: LIKE ATHLETE SWEAT Enea: LIKE AFTER THE GAMES SWEAT Enea: STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT

Another snap arrived before he could spiral further. Y/N’s face filled the screen, chin in hand, eyes narrowed like they were considering something. Caption:

“so if I asked for proof…”

He nearly dropped the phone again.

Enea: NO. Enea: N O. Enea: I’M NOT FALLING FOR UR DEVIL TRAP.

But the truth was, his pulse wouldn’t calm, his thumb was already twitching for the button for taking a snap, every part of him torn between dignity and the thrill buzzing under his skin.

Another snap from them: just their hand holding a coffee mug, nothing scandalous, but the caption read:

“coward.”

And that did it.

He sat up straighter, jaw set, hair falling over his forehead. He toggled the camera, angled it just right. Not the same as the first, no full body, just a collarbone-up shot, mussled hair, sharp jaw, the kind of photo that lingered more than it revealed and mainly showed his lower jaw, neck, shoulders and a bit of his chest.

Caption:

“still sweating.”

Send.

The second it disappeared from his screen, he realized he’d crossed the line into dangerous territory.

The silence after he sent that collarbone shot felt like an eternity.

He kept checking the screen every half-second like a man waiting for a verdict.

Finally, when he started debating just blocking them and going to bed before dropping out of the games tomorrow;

ding.

Another snap.

Y/N this time, holding their phone low, angled up under their chin in the most unflattering way possible. Double chin, bug eyes, tongue out. Caption:

“hot competition 🥵”

Enea actually wheezed. He flopped back on his bed, laughing into his arm until Artemis leapt off the sill in disgust and trotted out of the room.

Enea: UR EVIL Enea: ACTUAL DEVIL IN HUMAN FORM Enea: blocking u right now

They replied almost instantly with a snap: an innocent smile, head tilted, caption:

“You wouldn’t dare 😇”

He cursed under his breath. His pulse was still racing, but it wasn’t panic anymore; it was that dizzy thrill he got before taking down a target, knowing he was one step closer to another being crowned Apex Champion again.

Another snap popped up. Y/N again, this time shoulders visible, oversized hoodie slipping just enough to hint at bare skin underneath. Nothing overt, but the caption?

“bet ur sweating harder now”

He sat bolt upright.

Enea: oh my god. Enea: OH MY GOD. Enea: do u wake up every day and choose VIOLENZA???

They left him on read.

Then another snap. A simple black screen with one word written across it:

“Maybe~”

His jaw clenched. His pride flared. They wanted proof? He’d give them proof.

Camera open. He snapped a shot: his hand raking through his hair, jaw tense, the muscles in his arm just visible. Cropped enough to be safe, suggestive enough to count. His face a light pout.

Caption:

“you happy now?”

Send.

He swore he could feel their smug grin through the screen before the reply came.

Snap. Y/N’s legs crossed on their bed, hoodie still loose, a teasing glimpse of thigh. Caption:

“getting there.”

He made an inhuman noise, dragging a pillow over his face to muffle it. He was done for.

Enea: this is illegal entrapment Enea: i hope ur proud Enea: im filing a police report

Another snap, this one just their lips in frame, gloss catching the light. They looked so kissable. Caption:

“pls include this pic as evidence 😘”

Enea dropped his phone onto his chest and just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

He was losing. Scratch that. He was already lost.

But his hand was picking the phone back up anyway.

His phone buzzed again. Another snap.

This time; Y/N sprawled across their bed, hoodie riding up just enough to tease him. A snapshot of their underwear beneath the longer fabric. Nothing too much, nothing they couldn’t claim was “innocent.” But the caption?

“c’mon Guarino… I showed you mine 👀”

Enea sat bolt upright like he’d been electrocuted.

Enea: MINE WHAT Enea: NO CLARIFICATION NO CONTEXT NO NOTHING Enea: DELETE IT DELETE ME DELETE URSELF

But his heart was hammering. His mouth was dry. And, god help him, he was already flipping his camera around.

He angled it low, snapped a quick shot of his torso: sun-kissed skin, branded waistband visible on his boxers. He stared at it for a full thirty seconds, swore under his breath, then typed the caption with shaking thumbs:

“don’t say I never gave u anything.”

Send.

He immediately launched into a spiral.

Enea: I REGRET IT ALREADY Enea: IF U SCREENSHOT I WILL HUNT U DOWN Enea: I KNOW WHERE U LIVE

The snap opened. Seconds passed. Then another ding.

A video this time. Just a few seconds long; Y/N, lip caught between their teeth, hoodie sliding lower as their free hand teased the hem. Caption overlay:

“and if I want more?”

His phone nearly slipped right out of his hands. He sat frozen, chest heaving, like the walls had closed in on him.

He typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted. Finally, he hit send:

Enea: …ur dangerous. Enea: u know that, right?

Their reply came almost immediately.

Y/N: maybe I like dangerous.

Another snap. Just their bare shoulder this time, close-up, caption:

“your move, archer.”

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering rapid-fire prayers in Italian. He should stop. He should stop. But he couldn’t.

He lifted his phone, tilted the camera down. A shot of him sprawled against his pillows, head tipped back, just enough of his chest and stomach in frame to make it dangerous.

Caption:

“don’t test me.”

Send.

He threw the phone across the bed and buried his face in his arm, pulse roaring in his ears. He was so far gone it wasn’t even funny anymore.

The reply came faster than he could brace for it.

Another snap this time Y/N lying back, camera tilted down their body. Hoodie open now, but still strategically covering just enough. The caption?

“looks like I already did 😇”

Enea nearly dropped dead on the spot.

Enea: I HATE U. Enea: actually hate u. Enea: ur ruining my life rn.

A beat. Then another snap, fingers slipping under fabric, just a glimpse, barely a suggestion. Caption:

“pretty sure I’m making it better 💋”

He clutched at his chest. This was it. This was cardiac arrest.

He fumbled with his camera again, cursed under his breath, snapped a shot angled low across his abs, waistband tugged just a little lower this time. His face cropped out, but his body gave him away.

Caption:

”…now statisfied?”

He swore he wasn’t breathing until it sent.

The reply came like a thermite chucked through the window.

A black screen. Just white text.

“getting there. but I wanna see more of you.”

He sat up straight, deathgrip tightening on his phone. His pride screamed not to fold, but every nerve in his body burned at the challenge.

Camera. Snap. This time he gave in more, he was beginning to feel himself again; his whole torso, boxers sitting low, the V-line sharp under the red glow of his room. He looked half-wild, hair still messy but unmistakably his signature style, eyes hooded.

Caption:

“ur a menace.”

Send.

His phone buzzed again instantly. Y/N had screenshotted.

“MADONNA—!” He threw his pillow across the room, raking both hands through his hair, already spiraling…until another snap came through.

This time, their voice. A video. Breathier, softer. Their laugh muffled as they pulled the hoodie completely off, baring far more than before. Just long enough for him to see. Just short enough to leave him aching.

Caption:

“so are you gonna keep up… or tap out?”

He cursed, low and hoarse, and flipped his camera without even thinking.

A snap of him palming himself through his boxers, and albeit not visible to them, his head tipped back, jaw tight.

Caption:

“does this look like i’m tapping out?”

Send.

His heart nearly stopped. His whole body buzzed with adrenaline and want, half sure he’d just signed his own death warrant…until their next snap came in.

A picture. Sheets bunched beneath them, lips caught between their teeth, skin flushed as they took a picture from above, the free arm covering them up a little.

Caption:

“good boy.”

Enea dropped his phone onto his chest, breath ragged, a broken laugh spilling from him.

He was gone. Absolutely gone.

And he never wanted to come back.

Another snap.

Video this time; Y/N, bare now, hand trailing slow down their stomach before cutting off at the waistband. Their voice was just audible, a soft, breathy: “Your turn.”

Enea swore his knees actually went weak, even though he was laying down. His hands shook as he angled the camera, boxers shoved lower, the hard outline of his cock obvious through the fabric. He took the shot, chest heaving.

Caption:

“you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Send.

His phone lit up almost immediately.

Another snap. Y/N’s bare thighs, hand slipping between them, their fingers just disappearing out of frame. Caption scrawled across the image:

“oh, I think I do.”

He let out a choked noise, already pushing his boxers lower. He set the phone to video, recorded himself palming his cock before sliding the fabric down, letting them see just how hard he was for them. A low groan slipped past his lips at the end of the clip.

Caption:

“this is your fault.”

Send.

The second it vanished, he collapsed back against his pillows, running his hand down his face. What the fuck was he doing? What the fuck was happening…

Ding.

Another video. Y/N, fingers sliding between their thighs, movements slick, deliberate. Their breath hitched, a soft moan escaping as they looked right into the camera, lips parted.

Caption:

“touch yourself for me.”

Enea’s cock twitched in his hand, precum smearing his thumb as he obeyed without hesitation. He hit record again, stroking himself slowly, every sound; every hiss, every groan, captured by the mic. He made sure to angle the camera so they saw everything: his flushed chest, the thick length of him in his hand, the way his abs tensed.

Caption:

“fuck, amore, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Send.

Another snap. Just text this time, white against black:

“I want to hear you say my name when you cum.”

His whole body jerked like he’d been struck. He typed back immediately, almost growling through his teeth as he did.

Enea: if u keep this up i’m gonna make a fucking mess thinking of u.

They sent another video; fingers working faster now, their moans louder, his name spilling off their lips like they already knew what it would do to him.

That was it. That broke him.

He grabbed his phone, hit record one more time, hand pumping his cock hard and fast now. His head tipped back against the pillow, throat working, curses and their name spilling in ragged gasps until his whole body arched; cum spilling hot over his stomach as a strangled moan tore out of him.

He barely managed to get the caption down before hitting send:

“cazzo, came so hard for you.”

The snap vanished, and he lay there in the red glow of his room, utterly wrecked, chest heaving.

Seconds later, his phone chimed.

A picture, Y/N’s body trembling, slick fingers still buried between their thighs.

Caption:

“we’re not done. not even close.”

Enea let out a strangled laugh, dragging a hand down his face. He was ruined. Absolutely ruined.

And he’d never been so fucking eager to be ruined again.

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