madsmurf93: (arthur and eames = love)
[personal profile] madsmurf93
 Hello Darlings,

This is Eames:

Not many people know much about Eames except for one thing...and it is very important.

It is his arse and this is his arse:

This is also his arse:





You see, Eames is no top (sure those Bottom!Arthur fics will tell you otherwise) but instead he is a begging and slutty bottom for everyone and especially Arthur (ESPECIALLY ARTHUR!) Just in case you are wondering this is Arthur:

In conclusion, Eames is a slutty bottom for every male in the fandom and this is your chance to prompt that and fic it and graphics it, draw it and fanvid it and just do everything to it because EVERYONE NEEDS TO APPRECIATE BOTTOM!EAMES because, really, he is a delightful thing.
Arse pics courtesy of google and Bina <33 Mostly from Bina since Bina is a goddess amongst mortals - just saying.
Loves Maddie <3 
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Date: 2011-04-27 02:54 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

I am going to haunt and wait for a prompt. That is my plan. And in case anyone else is in my situation of wanting to write something but having no ideas, I will leave a prompt of my own:

Eames likes to antagonise Arthur because he knows Arthur likes their banter. And when Arthur gets intense in the bedroom (like you know he would), Eames can't help but extend the banter into this situation as well. Banter porn!

Date: 2011-04-27 03:28 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]

What a lovely prompt <3 I'd write it if I wasn't so unsure about my bantery ability xD I hope it gets filled <33

Part 1/2? Shower sex.

Date: 2011-04-27 03:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Eames is leaning against the wall of the shower, because he’s tired and disgusting and frankly he can’t be bothered to do anything more than lean against the wall and let the hot water run over him and try to loosen some of the dirt and grime and sweat and blood from this morning’s adventure. It’s barely four in the afternoon, and he’s already: ran up and down Quebec’s cobblestone streets, chased by Interpol; shot a man, tied him to a concrete block, and dropped his body into the St. Lawrence River; ran back up the stairs of death to the old city; ran up and then rappelled back out of the tower of the Notre Dame du Quebec; ran back down the stairs of death to the lower town; dived into the St. Lawrence River to get the body back; fished out a packet of secret documents from the dead man’s jacket; dropped him back into the St. Lawrence River; ran back up the stairs of death to the old city to find that the entire block around the Notre Dame had been blown up, thanks to Yusuf; hotwired a cab, and then drove all the way out here to Ariadne’s parents’ house to find her brother practically bleeding out in the middle of the road. So it’s been a long day, and Eames is very tired, thank you very much, and he would just like to enjoy his well-deserved shower in peace.

He squeezes out some toothpaste onto his toothbrush and sticks it in his mouth, lazily brushing away, and leans his head back so it hits the shower wall. The shower head is pointed directly at his cock, and the water tickles as it runs between his bush and his skin and trickles down his legs. He spits out some toothpaste and turns around, intending to wash off his rear, but before he can grab the bar of soap, the toilet door opens.

“Fuck off, I’m showering,” he calls at the intruder, and the door closes again. Eames breathes out a sigh of relief and leans back into the warm spray and-



“You like that?” asks Arthur, and pushes his finger the rest of the way in.

Re: Part 1/2? Shower sex.

Date: 2011-04-27 03:22 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
You like that?

I should hope so!

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Date: 2011-04-27 03:08 am (UTC)
bauble: (Default)
From: [personal profile] bauble
I am so excited for this fest you would not believe. I'll try to stop by to write something, but in the meanwhile, here is my favorite prompt:

Eames riding Arthur.


Date: 2011-04-27 03:41 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
<33 Lovely prompt, I may just try it...if I muster up what I've learnt from reading everyone else's porn and hope that something good comes out of it xD So I might have some fill up later :D

This fandom does things to me, it really does and I blame Eames arse since it seems the appropriate thing to do xD

just a short thing :)

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fic: Fill Your Heart 1/2

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fic: Fill Your Heart 2/2

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Date: 2011-04-27 03:26 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Eames is the office slut, he gives people blowjobs under the table and then they punish him for distracting the team in the work place (spanking?) A cock in his ass is a reward.


Date: 2011-04-27 03:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]



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From: [identity profile]
Prompt: Student Eames bottoming for Professor Arthur. A fill would make me so happy...and the world a better place :)

Or BB!Eames bottoming for badass (possible dream criminal) Arthur. This would blow my world.
From: [identity profile]
YEeees baby Eames xD

I'm afraid to post pictures of a young Tom Hardy (not that I can find them anymore) he was really skinny!

Date: 2011-04-27 09:05 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]


Tell Me What You Want - Part 1 - [Arthur/Eames]

Date: 2011-04-27 10:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'd like to thank all that helped edit this thing. I would also like to thank all you lovely people for partaking in this fest. So without further ado I give you Tell Me What You Want
“That’s it, Eames, open up further for me, there’s a good boy.”

Eames’ groan was muffled by the soft silk of Arthur’s tie that he clenched his teeth agains as Arthur licked and probed his quivering hole. Eames could feel Arthur’s smirk, curving against his skin as he sought out that spot that would make his nerves scream. Arthur’s slim fingers felt sharp against his skin, digging in just so that he could achieve that slight pinch of pain that made it all the more enjoyable.

“Please...Arthur, I - ” Arthur’s laughter sent shivers down his spine, all the way down to his cock. “Please.” His words were muffled by the tie but but were all the more meaningful for it.

When Arthur’s sinful tongue stopped its circular motion and Arthur moved back away — taking Eames’ pleasure with him — Eames wanted to whine from the loss. Eames was not a man that whined. He never whined, so instead he squirmed and whimpered for that sharp witted tool of destruction to get back to what it was doing. If Arthur’s chuckle was anything to go by, Eames reckoned that he understood what Eames wanted and denied him anyway.

“Arthur,” was all he got out before his head was yanked back and his neck stretched back. He looked up into Arthur’s eyes and blinked, whining at the back of his throat. “Please...I need you.”

Eames watched as Arthur smirked that half smile, showing little teeth and a wicked tongue. “That won’t do, Mr Eames, I can barely hear you.” Slowly Arthur untied the tie from the back of his head, soothing the marks that had begun to form with small kisses that were entirely too short. Nimble fingers danced across his exposed neck and Eames arched into the ghost-like touch. “Now tell me what you want, Mr. Eames. Remember to use your words.”

He let out a gasp as Arthur sunk his teeth into his collarbone. “I - I want you to slick me up with your tongue and then your fingers just to be sure.” Eames sucked in a breath as Arthur’s fingers danced across skin that felt entirely too hot, the touch barely there, almost like a whisper. It was driving Eames around the bend. He just wanted to feel. He wanted more. “I want you to pry me open and fuck me into the mattress. Make me forget, Arthur. Make me remember who I am. Please, Arthur.”

Arthur’s grip on his hair loosened, now only stroking the strands of hair gently, allowing his neck to stretch forward into a comfortable position. Arthur’s other hand trailed down his spine and down to his arse. “Such a beautiful arse, Mr. Eames.” Arthur skillfully pried apart his ass cheeks and move down to continue where he had left off with his indecent tongue. It twisted and curled making sure to reach as much as it could. When Eames started to get lost the sensation the intrusive tongue would move out and then move back in short stabs, never the same. Eames moaned his approval and bucked into the intrusion. “More. Please. Give me more, please.”

At the sharp tug of his hair Eames let out a strangled groan, pushing his arse into the air. His hands dug into the sheets, knees struggling to keep himself up. He was, wanton with desire for everything that was Arthur. He could have screamed when Arthur pulled back again. He could feel his arse pulsing, trying to suck back the pleasure. He whined, clawing at the sheets.

“Do you think I should start with my fingers now?”
Yeah I can't think of what to add at the moment so maybe more later?
From: [identity profile]
"Remember to use your words." Best line ever! I love it. Do write more <3

Re: Tell Me What You Want - Part 1 - [Arthur/Eames]

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Date: 2011-04-27 05:08 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Yes a million times to bottom!Eames!!

Arthur loves fucking guys bigger than him, and one of his favorite ways to have Eames is on all fours. That way he can admire all of Eames' rippling back muscles and fine, flexing ass while watching his cock plunge inside. Uh, take that where you like.

Date: 2011-04-27 05:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I'll just set a camp in this post, don't mind me


Date: 2011-04-27 05:27 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Yay I love this!

I have a prompt type thing.

Eames panting into the sheets, biting those lips all red and shiny, Arthur on top of him going so sloooowly.


Date: 2011-04-27 05:44 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
guh yes do want

Date: 2011-04-27 05:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
I love you forever for this fest. <33333333

Date: 2011-04-27 06:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
This fest is pretty unspeakably awesome! (Is that exercise video for real? *_*) I'll probably be back to write something later- I'm really supposed to be working right now... Meanwhile,

Prompt: Ariadne/Eames, she fucks him with a strap-on.

Date: 2011-04-27 08:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
omg she's so tiny. i would love to see that.


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Date: 2011-04-27 08:32 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
OMG THIS FEST! it's perfect. wish i had time to write for it.

here, have a prompt. eames tops from the bottom. any pairing.

Date: 2011-04-27 11:11 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Because these gifs never get old~


Awesomefest <3
From: [identity profile]
The shower stall wasn't really big enough for two people, but then again, they didn't really need a lot of room. Arthur pressed Eames back against the tiled wall and ran soapy hands over the muscled contours of Eames's body. Eames moaned and arched into the touch. Their fucking earlier had left a slick mess of come and lube that slowly trickled down his legs and swirled with the water down the drain. He pressed his face into Arthur's neck as sudsy fingers stroked between his arse cheeks and teased his sensitive opening. Arthur gently pushed one finger inside.

"Christ..." Eames murmured, lost in bliss. Arthur's other soap-slick hand worked Eames's prick, his pace lazy but unrelenting. That first finger was joined by a second, and they worked in and out, matching the rhythm of Arthur's other hand.

"I love doing this to you," Arthur whispered in his ear. "Have you any idea how fucking good it feels? You're all sloppy and open from being fucked, from having my dick inside you..."

Eames groaned, grateful for the support of the wall and Arthur's shoulder, because he was dizzy with steam and arousal; too sensitive and he'd got hard again too soon, but Arthur...

"Oh, you love that, don't you? The thought of my big, hard dick filling you up..." He squeezed Eames's prick as he said this, and pushed his fingers deep.

"Fuck!" Eames gasped, "I can't...please, I can't, it's too..."

"Sure you can," Arthur said, his voice so quiet under the hiss of the water, but it spoke to Eames's bones, his heart and blood, and he couldn't resist it, never could. "Look how hard you are already, you're so fucking greedy, look." And Eames had to look, rested his forehead on Arthur's shoulder and looked down at Arthur's long, clever fingers holding his prick like something precious, watched the slide of his foreskin over the swollen head of his cock, and the way Arthur's hand convulsed around it.

"You can take another finger, can't you?" Arthur asked, and it wasn't really a question, and it didn't matter that Eames shook his head because Arthur pushed a third finger into him anyway.

"You're such a fucking mess," Arthur said, biting his earlobe. "I'm going to fuck you again, fill you up with come and next time I won't clean you up. You're going to sleep all night with my mess inside you so when I roll you over and fuck you in the morning you'll still be wet and I'll just slide right in, so fucking easy..."

"Jesus, I can't...Arthur..."

"Yes you can."

Arthur won, and when Eames came it was small and sharp and hard-edged, a weak pulse of milky come that washed quickly down the drain. Arthur made a satisfied noise and let his fingers slip from Eames's arse. He rinsed Eames off carefully, towelled him dry and dragged him back to the bedroom with a hand clenched in his hair.

Arthur made good on his promise, but then Arthur always did; it's one of the things Eames loved best about him.

Re: Arthur/Eames: post-fuck finger/comeplay/dirty talk

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Date: 2011-04-28 12:43 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Can I prompt non-AU hatesex?

Dirty awful hatesex between Arthur and Eames:
1. argument over something - Cobb, probably.
2. escalates to violence
3. arthur pins eames to something
4. sex ensues.

Date: 2011-04-28 12:45 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Oh my God - yessssssssssssss. Hatesex is such a weakness of mine.

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Date: 2011-04-28 12:57 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)

You see those bottles? In this picture.

Eames like them inside of him.
He likes it when they're thick and slick and smooth all over.
He likes that if he squeezes too tight they might break.
And then he'll have a bloody glassy mess inside of him.
So he doesn't break them.

Yusuf likes to push him to the edge, though.
From: [identity profile]
Warnings: kind of the big cock trope, but not really, language, sex (obviously), very short


"Oh fuck," Eames whispered, or at least, he tried to, wanted to, but he couldn't hear himself over the rush of blood in his ears, wasn't sure if he was even able to string two words together at that point.

It wasn't that Arthur was that big, although it felt like it, felt like he was huge. Immense. But it had been a long time since Eames had bottomed (not that he'd informed Arthur of that fact; not that Arthur had asked) and they'd both been in too much of a hurry to spend all the time on preparation that he'd probably required.

He couldn't honestly say he regretted it, however.

"Fuck, you're tight," Arthur murmured, rolling his hips, pulling back a fraction in order to press back inside with slightly more force, the burn increasing with each centimeter gained.

Eames didn't respond, let his forehead press into the pillow and panted shallowly, his fingers wrapping around the edges of the pillowcase in a need to hold onto something. The slow entry was torture, too much and too little, and he could feel his body stretching, sullenly parting to make way for Arthur's advance as pain tinged the darkness behind his closed eyes red. It didn't stop the undercurrent of pleasure from making his cock twitch against his thigh, however, from pulling a breathy moan out of his throat as Arthur rocked against his prostate as he attempted to get deeper. He almost wished Arthur would just get it over with, would shove the rest of his cock in so Eames could get used to it and start to recover somehow. But he also hated the thought of anything hastening the end, of losing even one second of the feel of Arthur's hands and body against him, so he didn't say anything, just bit his lip and suffered through every excruciating moment, the desire for more rising up inside of him, relentless and cruel.

"Relax," Arthur breathed, his hands brushing over Eames' sides and back as he kept up that gentle rocking with his hips, Eames' eyelids fluttering with each spasm of pleasure. Arthur reached around to cup Eames' testicles and rub the skin just behind it, supporting his weight with his other hand against the mattress, and he bent his head to lick a hot trail up Eames' back as he continued to grind against him. Arthur's consideration had the opposite reaction from what he'd hoped for, however, Eames clenching down on Arthur's cock as if his body didn't know what to do with the overload of sensations. They both moaned then, Arthur's body jerking from the sudden increase in pressure, his cock forcing its way past the resistance for another few centimeters.

Eames groaned hoarsely, head swimming, everything flashing hot and liquid as he found himself pushing backward in an effort to draw Arthur in even further, and he forgot his earlier plan to take things at Arthur's pace, wanted Arthur to fuck him open, until he was loose and each thrust was easy and wet and obscene.

"Don't stop," he gasped, reached behind him and grabbed Arthur's thigh to keep him close. "Shit, don't stop."

Arthur straightened, dug his fingers into Eames' hips, pulling them up higher until Eames' back curved like a bow and his legs were trembling with tension. "I don't intend to."

A little [A]R/E for the cause [1/2]

Date: 2011-04-28 08:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Robert bites his lip; the tender red flesh will be purple with bruises later, swollen and bloody, but he bites himself to keep from biting Eames. Eames, whose lips are thick and fat and swollen already, Eames, whose lips are the lips of a born cocksucker. Eames, who’s old-money-public-school-Eaton-College-yes-please-sir on his knees and Robert reaches forward with one Italian-leather-clad foot and shoves him down. He uses just the tip, just the fine-wrought wingtip, as if using the sole would dirty his shoes, and he says, “Open your mouth.” And Eames does.

And God, but each tooth is gleaming in the dim light of his father’s office, gleaming like ivory and just as rare. Eames traces the tip of his tongue around them, and Robert can’t even bring himself to care that they’re crooked because he wants that mouth around his cock ten minutes ago. His fingers tremble slightly on the zip of his fly and they both pretend not to notice.

“Are you good,” Robert stumbles slightly, only slightly, eagerness and nervousness and shyness and arousal fighting for control at the root of his tongue, “Are you good at this? At sucking cock?”

Eames nods.

“Tell me,” Robert continues, breath coming sharp through his nose. “Tell me.”

“Oh, I’m good. I’m so good, baby,” Eames says in a voice that’s half growl and low. “I’ll be the best you’ve ever had.”

“You look good,” Robert says, but it’s not enough, not confident enough. He clears his throat. “You look like you know what you’re doing. You look like you’ve sucked a lot of cock. You look like you like it.”

Eames purrs then, rubbing his face catlike against the erection in Robert’s three thousand dollar suit before dragging the flat of his tongue up the length of the line of it. “Yes,” he hisses. “I’ve sucked so many cocks before, but none of them were you.”

And the image of it hits Robert in the solar plexus, hits him so hard he sees stars and he imagines Eames in a schoolboy’s kit, blazer rucked and tie loose and hanging over a rumpled cotton shirt. He sees this boy on his knees before a friend, an upperclassman—a teacher, he thinks, and moans—and he wants to know. Wants to taste the first cock those lips have sucked. “Who was he?” Robert asks, and he’s surprised how jealous he sounds.

“No one,” Eames tells him, and his thick fingers are squirming their way into his trousers through the opened fly. Robert tugs impatiently at his belt and it comes free as Eames lifts him carefully, half-hard, through his boxers. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Eames whispers reverently.

“Just get on with it,” Robert tells him. He reaches down and closes his eyes, wraps his hand around the width of it. Eames’s tongue is thick-wet on it and Robert’s breath catches in his chest for a moment. He feels like he’s drowning for a minute until he opens his eyes to the rapturous look on Eames’s upturned face and knows it for sure. Robert makes a sound like crying and shoves home, pushing past Eames’s slack lips until they’re resting in his pubic hair and Eames looks thoroughly satisfied.

“Sweet,” Robert starts, but he forgets which deity he’s trying to invoke when Eames closes his lips around the base of his cock and sucks. He settles for a long moan instead, and he can feel Eames’s laugh climbing through his own skin. It’s too much, too fast, too good, and Robert slides his fingers along the side of Eames’s face until they’re buried in his hair and then he twists them, pulling him gaping, wet-mouthed, back. “Get on your knees,” Robert commands, and his voice is as hoarse as if he were the one sucking cock.

“Aren’t I already?” Eames asks. He’s smirking until Robert pulls his hair sharply, exposing the line of his throat to Robert’s predatory gaze.

“No. You’re not.” And as Eames obediently rolls to his hands and knees, Robert reaches beneath Eames to undo his belt and fly, pausing to grope him through his cotton pants before they, too, fall to puddle at Eames’s knees. “Do you think you made it wet enough?” Robert asks. It’s mostly rhetorical. Eames answers anyway:

“There’s only one way to find out.”

A little [A]R/E for the cause [2/2]

Date: 2011-04-28 08:15 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Robert pushes in slow, reveling in the thick clench of Eames’s body as it closes around him. The muscles of Eames’s lower back bunch and flex as he braces himself for Robert’s slow invasion, and his knees shift on the ground impatiently. Robert refuses to go faster. He doesn’t want to lose himself to this just yet.

He leans back, admiring the view. From the side, he can see those thick lips, swollen and red and still so wet, can see the way Eames’s lashes flutter with each inch he presses in, can see the dark marks in the carpet where Eames’s fingers are tugging against the pile. “Talk to me,” Robert tells him, because he wants to know. He wants to know what’s going through Eames’s mind right now.

Eames laughs breathlessly. “What,” he stops to moan shakily, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about your favorite fantasy,” Robert says, curious. “Tell me what you think about when you touch yourself.”

“Arthur,” Eames gasps, and his eyes are squeezed so tight that Robert doubts he even knows he’s answered until Eames repeats the name so low it’s practically a prayer.

“Tell me about him,” Robert says. Eames whimpers, rocking back into his thrusts.

“He’s,” Eames says. “God, he’s just Arthur. Stupid, boring, absolutely gorgeous Arthur.”

“And what is Arthur doing to you?” Robert asks, and Eames snorts.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“What would you want him to do to you?” Robert corrects himself.

“I,” Eames moans then, long and low, and presses his face into the crook of one arm, reaching the other back to take himself in hand with short, quick strokes. “He’s got me on the, the chair. I’m asleep, and he knows he can do anything he wants to do to me.”

“Is Arthur bigger than you?” Robert asks quietly.

Eames laughs again. “No. He’s thin; you’re actually quite similar in build,” he says, and Robert hums encouragingly. “No, the only time he could ever overpower me is when I’m asleep, and he knows it. It’s the only time he could completely control me.”

“And you want him to control you?” Robert asks. Eames’s lips go slack with the suggestion; he’s beyond moaning, fist flying over his cock as Robert pushes into him in steady, slow thrusts.

“Oh, God, yes,” Eames manages. “I, I want—”

“And what does Arthur do when he’s got you at his mercy?”

“He,” Eames stutters for breath. His thighs are corded tight beneath Robert’s hands and Robert knows it won’t be long. “He sucks me. He sucks me long and slow, and it feels like hours, I mean it is hours, until I’m going mad from it, until I can’t stand it any longer, until I—” he chokes on saliva then, drooling.

“Do you come?” And Robert’s voice is insidious, deadly soft and suggestive. Eames’s whole body shakes.

“Please,” Eames begs. “Oh, please.”

“Does Arthur let you come?” Robert insists.

“N—I don’t—”

“When you wake up, does he flip you over? Does he rim you? Does he play with you until you’re a broken, soggy mess?”


Robert pauses, clenching a fist around Eames’s wrist. There’s surprising tension in his thin frame, and Eames is taut beneath him. “Does he fuck you hard?” Robert asks quietly. “Does he open you up and give you the fucking you really need?”

“Please.” Eames is a mess now, poised on the edge so delicately.

“Tell me.”

“Yes!” And Eames nearly screams the word as he seizes around Robert’s cock, back tight and arched as he comes. “Yes!”

Robert rides out the spasms, his own orgasm no less sweet for being less violent. He’s subtle, already tugging his cuffs back together and resnapping the links by the time Eames can look up at him bashfully, cheeks red with exertion and honesty. Robert gives him a half-smile. “If you ever wake up from that dream,” Robert says, and his eyes are sleepy-sated, “I’d be glad to help you dream another.”

“I,” Eames says. His voice crackles and he’s not sure what to say, but somehow he’s slightly guilty as he looks at his mark.

“I’m sure I’m no Arthur,” Robert continues blithely, then smiles. “But I’d be real.”

Eames manages a crooked smile and knows better.

Re: A little [A]R/E for the cause [2/2]

From: [personal profile] bauble - Date: 2011-04-28 03:14 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: A little [A]R/E for the cause [2/2]

From: (Anonymous) - Date: 2011-04-28 07:30 pm (UTC) - Expand

Date: 2011-05-04 09:16 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Just when I think it humanly IMPOSSIBLE to adore this fandom even more, I stumble upon the Bottom!Eames Fest.


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