madsmurf93 | It just doesn't get enough apperication [BOTTOM!EAMES FEST]

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It just doesn't get enough apperication [BOTTOM!EAMES FEST]

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:

SEE IT MOVE!

AND MOVE SOME MORE:

AND SEE SOME MORE LOVELY ARSE:

ISN'T IT LUSH AND BOTTOMABLE?

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.

NOW! GO WRITE, VID, GRAPHIC, DRAW AND PROMPT BOTTOM!EAMES WITH ANYONE AND EVERYONE!!

Loves Maddie <3

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Thanks!

I imagine they have lots of violent sex after the fade to black, and then Arthur walks away after having shredded Eames's clothes and Eames is stuck in the shed completely debauched and not presentable in public at all. Yeah, pretty sure that's how it goes.

unf that mental image *-*

Arthur’s back is aching, his throat is scratchy, and his wrists are sore. He has no idea how long Eames has been riding him; it must be well over the two hour mark now. Eames is rocking back and forth in hard, unrelenting thrusts. One hand flies over his cock while the other rests at the juncture of Arthur’s neck and shoulder. Arthur’s mouth is hanging open on silent moans, unable to do anything but strain against the cuffs that are locking him to the bed frame.

Arthur’s angling upward, trying to meet Eames’ pace, but Eames shifts at that point, circling his hips in achingly slow, wide motions. “Eames,” Arthur pants and Eames arches his back before diving forward and taking Arthur’s lips, hard and wanting. The cock ring is tight, so tight, around the base of Arthur’s cock; he needs to come but he’s not ready to beg for it yet.

The whole thing had come about, a week ago. Arthur was fucking Eames on his back, pounding into him with Eames’ legs over his shoulders. Eames was grunting beneath him, hands clawing at Arthur’s shoulders when Arthur gasped out, “Do you wanna stop?”

Eames’ eyes snapped to him, wide. “Does it bloody well look like I wanna stop?”

Arthur shook his head wildly. “No, I mean..” he rolled his hips upward and Eames arched beneath him. “Oh, fuck, I am. Condoms.. using.. do you..”

“Oh my God,” Eames said and then he was coming all over them. Arthur assumed that was a yes.

Afterwards, they both admitted they hadn’t slept with anyone else since ‘fucking while it’s convenient’ had somehow morphed into ‘I’m practically living with you.’ Eames said he’d had a physical last month while Arthur produced a copy of his latest blood work from a large black binder, organized in date order.

Eames said he wanted this to be special. His exact words were, “I want you to fuck me all night until I can’t stand it anymore, until my body doesn’t remember what it’s like when you’re not in it. I want you to remind me how empty I feel without my dick inside you.” Naturally, he said this while he was licking between Arthur’s thighs, his tongue teasing against Arthur’s ass.

So Eames retrieved the items from the bottom drawer of Arthur’s (their) nightstand and Arthur went about lighting candles because he liked them, okay?

___________________________

Eames doesn’t stop kissing him, parting Arthur’s lips with his tongue and licking between them, hot and deep. All Arthur can focus on is the warmth of Eames’ mouth and the devastating heat of his ass. Then Eames drags his hand away from his cock (moaning, Arthur assumes, at the loss) and places both hands on the bed. He whispers against Arthur’s lips, “Bend your knees for me.” Arthur doesn’t need to be told twice. Eames is on his hands and knees, arching his spine letting himself fall halfway out of Arthur. Arthur’s slides his heels up the bed and tenses his thighs. He fucks up into Eames in sharp angled thrusts and knows he’s hitting his prostate with every stroke by the sounds falling from Eames’ lips.

They set a delicious rhythm; Eames pushing back while Arthur fucks up into him, Eames moans on every upstroke, muttering “good, oh my god it feels so good.”

Arthur can feel the frenzied movement between their bodies; can feel the backs of Eames’ knuckles brushing against his stomach with every stroke.

Arthur knows the only reason Eames still has stamina is because he came when they started this – with Arthur’s hands cuffed to the bed frame and Eames feeding him his cock, his mouth on Arthur’s jaw, lightly stroking. Arthur moaned around his mouthful, breathing deeply through his nose and smelling only sex, musk and Eames, Eames, Eames.

Eames is grunting, his hot breath fanning against Arthur’s shoulder as he forces himself back onto Arthur’s cock again and again, his movements growing clumsy.

Arthur can’t take anymore. “You want my hand around you. I know you do. Wanna feel me slick you up, jerk you just the way you love it. Come on, Eames. Let me,” Arthur says, feeling the cuffs cut against his wrists.

“If you don’t shut up, I’m going to gag you. Jesus Christ, Arthur.,” Eames moans. He sits back again, undulating his hips just so, knowing exactly what it takes to make sweat drip down the sides of Arthur’s face; to make his fingers dig into his palms.

“I’d like to see you try,” Arthur says, eyes flaring.

“Next time. Right now I’m too much of a selfish prat and, oh fuck right there,” Eames moans brokenly. “Despite everything I want to hear you. You want it, Arthur.. You want to feel my tight hole clench around you. You want to fill me up; finally. Want me dripping with you, all for you. You want to come so badly it hurts, don’t you, baby?”

Eames’ voice is like velvet and it does ridiculous things to Arthur’s body. “You bastard. You’re such a fucking bastard,” Arthur grits out.

Eames leans forward, licking at Arthur’s neck while thumbing his nipples. “You love it,” Eames says smugly.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” Arthur groans, meeting his eyes and arching into his touch.

“What do you want? Tell me,” Eames pleads, nearly begging. It sounds good on him.

Arthur lips his lips, mouth dry. “Anything. Everything.”

“Always,” Eames says softly. Arthur meets his gaze, takes in the fiery intensity and thinks well, that’s that, then.

Eames covers one of Arthur’s hands with his own and Arthur immediately arches into the touch. Eames screws himself down in earnest and Arthur gasps and bucks upward as much as he can under the unrelenting rhythm Eames is setting. Sweat pools behind his eyes and he blinks against the burn.

Finally, Eames squeezes his hand and looks at Arthur, mouth parted on a gulping breath. “I want to feel your hands on me,” he says and before Arthur can react Eames is climbing off him, easing off the cock ring, and in one quick motion, sliding back down and unclasping the cuffs.

Arthur surges upward immediately, wrapping his arms around Eames’ waist and taking his mouth in the deep kiss. Eames is fully seated in his lap and they start a slow, unyielding rhythm, lazy and frantic all at once. Arthur brings one hand around to pump at Eames’ now leaking cock. Eames cries out sharply and rocks forward, clenching his muscles tighter around Arthur's cock. Arthur licks a slow line up Eames’ neck and his fingers tense on the small of Eames’ back.

Eames runs his hands along Arthur’s shoulders and down his arms. His body tenses around Arthur, rising and falling once more before he’s coming all over Arthur’s hand and between their bodies.

Arthur pins his hands against Eames’ hips and drives up once more before the impossible heat and tightness of Eames’ ass, all around him, makes his own body shake with orgasm. He trembles in Eames’ arms, their bodies wracked with aftershocks.

They hold one another, kissing lazily. Eames rubs at soothingly at Arthur’s wrists and laughs quietly, almost incredulously. Arthur knows the feeling.

“You feel so good inside me,” Eames whispers against his neck.

Arthur shivers when he realizes Eames means now, right now, because Arthur is still there; there’s evidence now. And that’s how it should always be.

this is gorgeous!

OH. DEAR. GOD.

desperate, sweaty, come-filled loooove. Mmmmmmm... it makes me happy. this was so satisfying.

...oh my God. There go all my higher cognitive functions. This was glorious. ♥

"Eames, the semester ended over a week ago."

"I know. I was just wondering if you could look at this paper I'm getting a head start on for a summer course."

Arthur eyes Eames suspiciously. He had attended his office hours reguarly even though he did not need the extra help. He always aced his papers. He'd usually just show up, slide his chair entirely too close to Arthur's and lean in while Arthur explained some methodology or the other that Arthur knew Eames already understood. And the way he'd sit in the front row and lean back with his legs all spread out was just obscene and incredibly distracting while Arthur was trying to teach the students why art history mattered.

"Sure. Hand it over."

He was right to be suspicious. There was a condom paper-clipped to the top of the page.

"What is this, Eames?"

"I'd be seriously concerned if you didn't know what that was, professor."

Arthur sighed. Eames had always been bold and Arthur knew he was going to give in a long time ago. It was basically just a matter of going through the motions of protest at this point.

"You're a student, Eames."

"That's true, but I'm not your student anymore so I don't see what the problem is."

"The problem is that you are still a student and I'm still facualty. Even if you aren't in my class anymore there would be serious ramifications."

"Only if we got caught. And do you really think I'd tell anyone?"

No, Arthur didn't. Arthur knew from the beginning that he wasn't here for blackmail. This kid was horny as hell and he was here for straight up sex and nothing else.

Arthur removed the condom from the stack of paper and held it between two fingers, looking at it before shifting his gaze back to Eames. He was practically shaking with want, and Arthur could definitely relate.

"Guess there's only one thing left to ask then."

"What's that?"

Arthur smirked. In for a penny in for a pound as they say.

"Can you be quiet?"

Eames' pupils darkened and his smile was absolutely devilish.

"Why don't you find out for yourself?"

Two seconds later their mouths were crashing together and they were stumbling over to the small couch Arthur had in his office. Eames shoved Arthur down to a sitting position and crouched on the floor between his legs. He was unzipping Arthur's fly when Arthur stopped him.

"Stop. You didn't come here just to give me a blow job did you? I'd like to do this my way if you don't mind."

Eames swallowed hard.

"Not at all, sir."

Arthur liked the sound of that.

"Good. Pants off and over to the desk, please."

Luckily Arthur kept his desk very clean so there were very few items to remove while Eames got rid of his bottoms. Arthur freed himself from the confines of his own trousers and starting stroking himself hard before turning back to Eames.

"I'm assuming you brought additional supplies as well?"

"Of course. You know I never come to class unprepared."

Eames returned to his pile of discarded clothing and took a small bottle of lube out of a pocket. He made like he was going to start preparing himself when Arthur took the bottle from him.

"I'll do it. Come on."

Arthur took Eames and bent him over his desk, nudging a leg between Eames' and forcing them apart. He poured lube on his fingers and leaned over Eames, nipping his neck and teasing his entrance, but not pressing in.

"This is what you want, right" Arthur whispered in his ear.

"God. For the past 4 months. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think I do."

Arthur slipped a finger in and felt Eames squirm. Eames let out a small moan and pressed himself against Arthur. Arthur had never been with someone so greedy for him before. It went straight to his head - sending all his blood to his cock - and before he knew it he had two fingers in and was scissoring Eames open with abandon.

And for his part Eames was soon panting and practically humping the furniture underneath him.

"Fuck - I'm ready. Please, just fuck me."

Arthur couldn't think of any words to say so he just pulled his boxers down a little furthur and ripped open the condom. He put it on as quickly as possible and applied more lube. He was already groaning at even his own touch.

He gripped the sides of the desk to brace himself and slowly pushed into Eames, and Eames took him in like he was missing piece. He soon found a rhythm and closed his eyes, completely absorbed in the feel of Eames’ heat around him and the delicious noises coming out of Eames' mouth.

He shuddered as he came and collapsed on top of Eames. He let himself rest there for a moment before pulling out and discarding the used condom. He then lifted Eames up, turning him around so they were both facing the desk and pulling him close.

"You got precum on my desk."

"Sorry."

"I don't think you're really sorry at all," Arthur said as he wrapped a hand around Eames' cock and starting stroking,"But I'll figuve you." He placed a few bruising kisses along the nape of his neck and held Eames up as he came into his hand.

They cleaned up in silence and Eames was just about to leave when Arthur called to him.

"Eames."

"Yeah?"

"If you'd like, I could look at that paper again sometime. It's a good start, but I think it could be even better."

"You do?"

"Yes."

There was a slight bit of worry in Arthur's voice, like he wasn't quite sure if he had just made a terrible mistake and that Eames wouldn't take him up on his offer. But there was really no need to worry.

"See you in a few days then, professor."

Eames then made a quick exit and could not wipe the smug look off his face as he shouldered his backpack and closed the office door behind him.

The End

Thank you!

Eames feeding him his cock, his mouth on Arthur’s jaw, lightly stroking. Arthur moaned around his mouthful, breathing deeply through his nose and smelling only sex, musk and Eames, Eames, Eames.

God, that's such a hot image. It ALL is, obviously, but yes :D

I love how much of a bossy cocktease Eames is. Delicious and thoroughly hot, thank you for indulging me <3

"Oh, Robert!"

XDXDXD

A sexy conclusion to a sexy fic. Thanks!

ldkfgsdkfjg, yes, please, don't stop. :)

thanks for reading! :D

So glad you liked it, hon! <333

I found this prompt very inspiring! :D

Eames goes to France when he hears through the criminal grapevine that Ariadne has been asking around about jobs. "Criminal grapevine," in this case, is Arthur, who heard from Cobb, who heard from Miles, but "gossipy friends" sounds less intimidating. Not that Ariadne is at all intimidated; she rolls her eyes at him, lets him in, feeds him cookies and strong coffee, and says, "I just asked where I could get a PASIV to keep in practice. You dumb boys, it's like playing a game of telephone with five year olds."

He flashes her his most charming grin -- she's worth the effort -- and replies, "I'm not a dumb boy. I'm a dumb man, darling."

"You wish." She scoffs and pours him more coffee.

=

When they hook into the PASIV he's brought, he teaches her to forge. She's good with buildings, and in Eames's experience, that means crap with bodies, but it's something to do in the dreamspace that they can both enjoy. To his surprise, she's decent at it, swelling her tits into ridiculous proportions and shrinking to a twentieth of her size.

"One pill makes you larger," she sings, and grows her hair out until it drags on the ground.

They go under again and again, but not for very long every day. She's still in school, and he's eager to get back in the real world game, stealing and forging. While she goes to class, he sets up in her tiny living room, near her tiny window that gets the cool eastern light in the mornings. He remembers to put down a dropcloth before he opens his suitcase and starts setting up.

Every night over takeaway, she tells him about architecture and her thesis, and he tells her about the difference between a fake and a forgery, tells her about forging contemporaneously so that in a hundred years, the forgery will carbon-date positive, and no one will be able to tell the difference.

"You don't get any credit now, though," she points out, dipping her naan into his curry.

"Well, I do, love, but that's not why I do it," he replies, pushing his bowl of rice and lamb closer to her.

=

sorry! I am the worst at headers!

It's only been a few weeks when one day, while they're under, she rounds her cheeks and darkens her skin and curls her hair -- and suddenly she's Yusuf, but with breasts. She can't get the voice right, although she keeps trying, even as they walk through the moors where Eames grew up and she builds skyscrapers that would sink if they existed in the real world.

They cross out of the moors and with one step are in Mordor; Eames shouldn't have stayed up late with her the night before watching The Two Towers. She laughs when he transforms into Arwen, complete with shimmery tears in his eyes.

"Do you think I could do Aragorn?" she asks with a gleam in her eye that is disturbingly similar to the one Yusuf gets sometimes.

"It's hard; you might get stuck in between and not be able to change again," he warns. "We'd have to wake up and then go back under."

She shrugs carelessly. It's one of the things he likes about her -- one of the things he's always liked about Arthur, too. It took her more than a few times, but nowadays she can conjure up a Beretta and shoot herself in the head quicker than anyone, easy as lying.

His brain shorts out when she gets taller and broader. As her face narrows and her hair straightens, Eames loses the scent of sulfur he's always imagined hangs around Mordor; as her clothes slowly change into Aragorn's leathers and sword, he loses Mordor itself, and then they're standing in an empty room, closed windows, too warm. Eames feels like the dumb boy Ariadne accused him of being when he first showed up at her door.

Eames is a thief and a forger and very much a criminal; he's murdered people in cold blood and self-defense both, stolen love and art and thoughts… but he doesn't like to be presumptuous with people he likes, be they friends or colleagues or, on one memorable occasion, the SVR agent attempting to arrest him. He's let her set the pace thus far; he hasn't made a move during any of the many moments between them when it seemed like she wouldn't be averse to moving their flirting along. But Eames said, "I just want to be fucked once by Viggo Mortensen" last night, and Ariadne heard, laughed, made a joke about Aragorn's big sword. And now she's him.

If Eames were less good at reading people, he'd be a mediocre criminal at best; Eames is not a mediocre criminal. Nevertheless, she's still Ariadne, and he wants her to make the first move. He doesn't want to take this from her; he wants it shared freely, an honest kind of stealing.

Ariadne looks around and grins, Viggo Mortensen's eyes crinkling, his tiny teeth gleaming. "This isn't what I was hoping for," she says. Her voice is still her own.

"You're missing a gap," he replies, and is delighted to hear that his voice still sounds even. He motions to where the second gap should be, and she squints while she moves the tooth. "When you get better, you won't go so slowly; just --" Eames blinks, and slips into Arthur's skin and one of the neat dark suits Arthur almost always wears in dreams.

"Nice," she says approvingly. Then she frowns. "I'm missing something else."

Eames raises one of Arthur's eyebrows. "What's that?"

She moves a hand down to her crotch and grabs, shaking where her cock would be. "Damn it." She sighs a little. "I really wanted to be perfect the first time out."

"Didn't you tell me you forgot the first stairs in your first skyscraper?" Eames teases. He lets his own voice slip through into Arthur's throat. "Everyone can't be me, darling."

"Okay, that's really hot," she says, laughing, and then she's herself again, jeans and T-shirt and sloppy hair. Eames stays in Arthur's body, though, while Ariadne creates a tall building with the fire stairs on the outside. It's easier to remember to be himself when he's someone else.

=

Ariadne tries and tries -- Rusty Ryan, Danny Ocean, Memphis Raines, Thomas Crown, Verbal Kint. She's Bodhi for just a few minutes before wrinkling her nose and saying, "Too soon," and morphing -- still slowly enough that Eames can watch each instance of the change -- into Cobb.

"I think it's time for you to watch different movies," Eames says dryly when she melts into Robert De Niro, a nametag on her shirt proclaiming her "Neil McCauley."

"I'm trying to be the best criminal I can be, Eames!" She laughs and rubs her hands over her face. When she looks up again, she's Eames -- but younger, her own age. It's creepy, and he tells her so.

She sighs. "I still can't get the dick right, either," she says. "Like, not even at all." She blinks and is back in her own face -- quickly, neatly, perfectly framed by the setting sun of Eames's mind. He's pulled it from his memories of L.A., the smog turning the clouds neon.

He dreams up a pool and some lounge chairs and an icy, fruity drink. "If you want a dick, darling, there are more ways to get one than forging."

"I don't want you to fuck me," she says bluntly, lying down on her own chair, huge sunglasses now covering half her face. Then she's in shorts, and he can see her leg hair glinting in the sunlight; it's exactly the leg hair he'd been noticing when he slid the needle into her arm earlier. Practicing forging has pushed her mind into adding more and more details even to its image of her.

Eames feels a terribly embarrassing sense of pride in her welling up inside him. He pushes it away -- now is not the time for being soppy -- and offers blithely, "You can always fuck me."

Her head is turned, looking off into the distance, snow-capped mountains. "Which is more real --reality, because it's actually real, or dreams, because we can do anything in our own heads?"

He lets it go. He likes her, but he's not invested; her rejection doesn't even sting. Well, maybe it stings a little, but he'd always rather have a partner in crime than a lover. She's clearly looking for a specific answer from him, but instead of giving her the one she wants, he gives her the one he knows to be true.

"Get shot in the dream and you wake up; get shot in real life and you never dream again." He takes a long sip of the frothy pineapple concoction he dreamed for himself, and regrets not adding rum. When he looks over at Ariadne, she's got a Desert Eagle Mark VII pointed at his head, and then he's sitting up on her uncomfortable couch.

He slips the needle out of his arm and detaches it from the canula. It needs to be disinfected, but it can wait. He drops the needle into the plastic Coca Light bottle they’ve been using for sharps, and when he looks up, Ariadne is watching him.

"Am I getting this wrong?" she asks, leaning forward. She drops the needle and canula onto her scarred coffee table, and he winces, carefully plucks the needle up and drops it into the sharps bottle before answering.

"I don't think so." He feels strangely off-balance, not at all like himself. He wants to go back under, pull a forge, settle into someone else's skin. Instead, he forces himself to sprawl back, spread his legs; a deep breath and he has a smirk on his mouth; a moment later and he's not just posturing. That's always been why he's one of the best -- his ability to become something else, not just pretend to be it.

And then there's Ariadne, naked except for a harness. Her dick is big, bigger than Eames's, and a dark brown. Eames's mouth waters, and he slides off the couch, landing on his knees. She's got a condom in her hand and she offers it to him.

"I've never used this one with anyone else --" And he loves how she says "this one" because he knows that means he's in for a good time. "-- but if you want?"

He takes the condom and tosses it to the side, and it lands on the table next to the sharps bottle and the silver PASIV case, still open. "Maybe later," he says, and puts his hands over the harness to hold her close, lets her cock push against his mouth, push his mouth open, push in. Her hands in his hair tug, and he swallows her cock down until he can smell how wet she is.

=

It surprises him how much time she spends opening him up with purple-gloved fingers and a shitload of lube, and it surprises him again when she reaches into her bedside table and pulls out a dental dam. She eats his ass for what feels like hours, and he's only got a little bit of regret for the latex between them. The nitrile on her hand warms up when she jacks his cock, catches on the hair on his balls and pulls -- it hurts, but he likes it.

It hurts, and he wants more.

"Fuck me," he tells her. "Come on, please," and then he bites his lip.

"Beg," she says in a scratchy voice, and he does, his throat dry, the words catching -- but only because he heard her opening the condom, so he knows it won't be long. When she pushes her cock into him, holding his ass spread, he drops his head and closes his eyes. He thinks that the thrumming of his skin is a vibe in Ariadne's harness, but it's not -- he's holding his breath, and this is not a dream.

Eames comes all over her pale pink sheets, and collapses into his own spunk as she pulls out of him. Ariadne's breathless when she lies down next to him, her hair a cloud on the pillow and plenty of other clichés Eames would happily steal from literature, if only he could remember any of them. He turns his head to watch her roll off the condom and then peel the glove down over it. She drops the whole thing onto her floor, then runs her hand over her cock.

"Are you alive?" she asks, a smile curving her mouth, her cheeks pink.

"You must have abs of steel, darling," he says, and he knows he's missed the mark on a sated drawl when she giggles.

"Sure. You should make me come now," she tells him. "If you can move."

She keeps the cock on when he goes down on her; he doesn't bother with a dental dam, and she gets his whole face wet, sticky, delicious. She surprises him again when he realizes that she hadn't tucked a vibe into the harness at all; she's just turned on, she's just hot for her own cock, for fucking him.

=

Eames showers and then Ariadne showers. He's less off-center than before; instead of slipping into her guest bedroom -- barely bigger than a closet, but with a comfortable bed and a whole shelf of old, worn novels for children -- he stays in her bed, drowsily arranging his towel so that it's over the wet spot he made. She'll have to take care of the wet spot she made -- and the condom on the floor -- herself.

When she comes out of the bathroom, she's still naked, and she climbs on top of him instead of walking around to the other side of the bed. When she leans forward, her hair plops onto his skin and her nipples, hard and soft at the same time, press against his chest. She kisses him, just a brief brush of her mouth over his.

"My job is knowing people, so I'm a hard man to surprise." He shifts under her, and the hair on her legs pricks his thighs a little. "You just keep doing it," he confesses, even though he doesn't mean to.

"Maybe you just don't know me well enough yet," she says, and kisses him again. He takes it as an invitation to stay even longer.

=

She never does manage to forge a cock, but she figures out how to forge a strap-on, so she can fuck Eames while looking like Viggo Mortensen.

this was so fuckin' hot. also I love the talk of forging and architecture and Ari's leg hair :3

Hnnnnnnnnngh. <3 Fuck, yes.

:D :D :D

GENIUS.

Oh, so terrific! Wow! I don't read much Inception fic but when anatsuno said you wrote great bottom!Eames pegging fic, I had to read it, and so glad I did! This is great, I love all the details and the characterizations especially, and omg, oral pegging, YES PLS. *applauds*

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Page 5 of 6

It just doesn't get enough apperication [BOTTOM!EAMES FEST]

Re: minifill

Re: minifill

fic: Fill Your Heart 1/2

fic: Fill Your Heart 2/2

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Re: fic: Fill Your Heart 2/2

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

Re: This fest was needed. Everyone should appreciate all his assets more. FILL [1/2]

Re: This fest was needed. Everyone should appreciate all his assets more. FILL [2/2]

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

Re: fic: Fill Your Heart 2/2

Re: EVERYONE YOU SAY??? (Fill: currently untitled Office Porn 3/3)

Re: Because how can I not contribute to a bottom!eames fest?

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Re: fic: Fill Your Heart 2/2

1/?

Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 2/?

Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 3/?

Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 4/5

Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5

Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5

Re: fic: Fill Your Heart 2/2

Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5

Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5

Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5