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howdyhowby · 2 years

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Let Me Take Care Of You (1/?)

A note from the author: Hey, y'all! This is my first attempt at a fanfic and first post on this Tumblr. Please be patient with me as I work on being a better writer. This WILL be a series so stay tuned, I don't know how long it'll go on for, but I won't abandon it. Thank you for reading, have a great day :) WARNING: Nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, slight sexual themes (just attraction not smut), blood, injuries. This will turn into smut in later chapters, I'm warning you ahead of time. If there's anything else tell me so I can add it.

Your eyes blinked open, your body already in a sitting position as you panted. Another nightmare, another night without him. Your nightmares became regular a couple of years ago. You had been hired by the Ghostbusters, to help out Janine Melnitz. You didn't have an exact job title, just helping whenever you can. When Janine had mostly everything under control, the Ghostbusters decided to let you tag along. It started off at first as staying inside the Ecto-1 while they trapped their ghost, you took notes, and drove them back to the firehouse when they were too tired to do it themselves. Then they started letting you out of the Ecto-1. You wanted to trap ghosts and fight alongside your friends, but that wasn't the main reason you wanted to help them out. It wasn't because you dreamed of fighting ghosts as a kid, or you had to get revenge for a family member. It wasn't anything exciting, or even reasonable. It was because you had an enormous crush on Egon Spengler. His shy demeanor, glasses, and tall frame. The way he was content in just his science, brushing off Janine and other women's touch so he could get back to whatever experiment he had. It is adorable, he is adorable. While he brushed off other women, your touch seemed to always be welcome. You were definitely touchy when it came to the man you loved, and while you tried to hold back so as to not freak him out or make him uncomfortable, you couldn't stay away entirely. A touch here, a hand on his shoulder there, the drag of your fingers across his hand as you took something he was giving you. You didn't know how to be more obvious without shouting it in his face, "I'm in love with you!" The feelings only grew with how often you went with them, how many hours you spent cleaning up his wounds, and him returning the favor. And yet, no matter how much time passed, he continued to remain indifferent. And it hurt. The first few weeks of your nightmares you had hidden them, embarrassed that you couldn't be as strong as the boys. They never complained about night terrors, never seeking comfort from the wars raging in their heads. It seemed like you were alone. That is, until week 3. You had eyebags, your hair all over the place, as you stumbled into the kitchen. Your pajama pants dragged as you took down a glass from the cabinet. You took a quick swig, sighing. "Y/N?" You jumped, dropping the cup. You stared in horror at the broken shards, breathing heavily as you looked up at the new presence. 'Egon... great.' "Oh!" He took a step back, trying to avoid the glass. "Don't... don't move." He left for a couple minutes, before coming back with a broom. He began sweeping, being careful around my feet, before dumping the dustpan's contents into the trash. "Thanks.." you mumbled awkwardly, shuffling a little. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "What are you doing up?" "Um.." You took a step back, trying to think of a lie. 'Ow, what the hell was that?'

You looked down, frowning as a brownish-red liquid started spreading across the tiled floor. There was a piece of glass he had missed, behind you. Now in you. He followed your gaze, eyes widening. Without a word, he picked you up bridal style and began walking out of the kitchen. "Egon!" You yelped, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck and shoulders. You felt your cheeks warming as he continued toward the staircase that led to his lab. "I-It needs to be cleaned, and.. and you shouldn't walk on it. Sorry if I'm overstepping." He stuttered, not remaining eye contact with you. "It's okay... you know you don't have to me so..." I didn't know how to finish that sentence, as he carefully placed me on the lab table. "So?" He looked at me expectantly, finally looking into your eyes. "So... restrained?" I said, more of a question than an answer. "We're friends, Egon. You're not a stranger. I don't mind you sweeping me off my feet." I let out a small laugh. He gave a half-smile, worry still evident on his face.

"I know, I just don't want to hurt you." He mumbled, nearly incoherent as I strained to hear it. He brought out the first-aid kit, getting to work on your foot. "This is gonna sting a little." He warned before pouring saline on your wound. You inhaled, blinking your eyes shut. It only took a couple minutes to clean and dress your foot, Egon insisting you stay seated. "Egon, I can walk, it was only a little piece of glass." "That wasn't little, Y/N." "Are you kidding me? It was itty bitty!" They continued to bicker for a couple minutes. You felt weak enough around him, you didn't want to look like you couldn't hand a small injury. You began to get up, not listening to his rambles on infection and pain and whatever else he was spewing out to try and convince you. Suddenly, two arms caged you in. His hands were first on the table, thinking that was enough to keep you there. You hesitated, a blush rising to your cheeks as you looked up at him. His face was not even half a foot away as he stared down into your eyes. "Stay." He whispered. Your heart rate increased, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you glanced down toward his lips. Every fantasy comes to the forefront of your mind. You shifted your hips uncomfortably, trying to adjust yourself as arousal began flushing toward your core. Egon must've mistaken it for you trying to get off the table, yet again, and moved his hands to your hips. "Let me take care of you." He whispered again, moving one hand to your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "O-Okay..." His face slowly went into a frown, confusing you. His thumb moved from your cheek to under your eye. "Your eyebags have gotten deeper, Y/N. Please, tell me what's been going on." He asks. He noticed them last week, making a comment on how you need to get some sleep. "It's nothi-" "Don't lie." "I'm not ly-" "Let me take care of you." He said again, almost sounding like begging. I hesitated, leaning forward a little as I rested my head on his shoulder. There's no point in keeping it hidden. You've already been compromised, why try to keep up the facade of courage? "I've been... having nightmares." "...about?" About losing you "About losing y'all. Ray, Peter, Winston... you..." "Oh." His grip on your hip tightened, his other hand moving toward your hair. You felt more relaxed than you have in weeks, his presence calming you down. His scent flooded your senses, slowly lulling you. And you decided you wanted more. He was already in between your legs, so you wrapped them around him, tugging him a little closer. "Y/N-" "Shh..." You leaned back up, moving your own hands to his face.

You knew if you looked down, you would see how embarrassingly close you two were, and you loved it. "I.. I've been having nightmares about you." "Me?" He asked, surprised. "About losing you. I don't want to lose you, Eegs. I don't know what I'd do without you." "Y/N.." His face went blank. You knew what this was. He always tried to remain unreadable, unfeeling. "I know you know." It's obvious you love him. He couldn't not know. You didn't say the three words, too afraid to push him farther. You leaned your forehead against his, not going any farther. You could wait for him to say the three words. "I... I can't, Y/N." 'Oh.' It stung worse than you thought it would. You know how sometimes you can hear your heartbeat? Well, right now you could hear it cracking. Shattering, even. He didn't love you. It all meant nothing to him. You meant nothing to him. Rapidly blinking, you tried not to recoil away from him, "Oh..." "I didn't want to hurt you, I thought I was clear in how I acted." You smiled, looking more like a grimace, trying to ease his panic. On the outside: you looked tired, worn out, but understanding. On the inside: you were tired, worn out, and about to double over from heartache. Far from understanding anything. 'Clear? Only letting you in his lab, only letting you touch him, only letting you get close. That was clear? What does he mean by CLEAR?'

"I understand." You would. Eventually. But as of now, you couldn't be around him much longer before you broke down in tears. You untangled your legs from his waist, failing to notice his look of disappointment. You tried to gently push him away, but it came out more of a shove as you hopped down from the table. You bit your lip, both to keep your composure and not curse out in pain. 'He was right about the foot...' You started limping toward the doorway, surprised when he stepped in front of you. "Egon... please." "No, just listen. I.." He stopped when you made eye contact with him. "I what?" You asked, a little impatiently. "...I want to help you. You aren't alone, Y/N. Please, if the nightmares continue, promise me you'll come to me." Your brain short-circuited, to say the least. "What?" He moved a little closer again, an arms-length away now. "If... when these nightmares continue, come find me. Wake me up, join me in the lab, I don't care if you interrupt what I'm doing. Just promise me you won't suffer them alone. I.. I want to be there for you." "Egon, you don't have to feel obligated to try and fix me. It's not your fault you can't love me." Some weird emotion flashed through his eyes before disappearing. You continued, "I don't need you to take care of me." "I know you don't... but I want to."

"Why!?" You finally asked, your voice rising, confusion taking over. He remained silent, stepping even closer. He pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back. "Do you not... want my help?" He muttered, hands halting his comforting strokes. You laughed a little bitter, shaking your head as you buried your face in his chest. He smelled earthy. Like dirt, aftershave, and the overwhelming scent of him. It stung, realization sinking in. You couldn't have him. He wasn't yours. He didn't want you. "Egon..." You looked up at him. "Of course, I want your help. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. I don't want to force myself on you." He frowned deeper, moving his hand back to my face. I moved my hand on top of his, leaning deeper into his touch, visibly welcoming him. 'You feel like home.' I thought to myself as we stared into each other's eyes. His brown, warm, puppy dog eyes. "You're not forcing yourself on me. I want to take care of you." You nodded hesitantly. If you couldn't have him romantically, you could settle for friendship. You would have to settle for friendship. You didn't think you could last without Egon Spengler in your life. "Okay. I'll let you take care of me.". And so it began. Hours every night, waking from the terror of your dreams, to scuttle downstairs and into the lab. You would usually bring hot cocoa from the kitchen, sit down on his couch, and watch him work. Or, sometimes, he'd join you on the couch. Just holding you. That only happened when you came down in tears. Sometimes the nightmares would be too much, and you'd come stumbling in, choking back sobs. He would drop everything to hold you, bringing you to the couch, pulling a blanket over the two of you. He would never ask you questions, never make you relive it. He would just hold you on his lap, comforting you with actions instead of his words. Your favorite moments were when you were beginning to drift off again, and he'd whisper to himself, thinking you were already asleep. "I'm here... I've got you."

Present Day --two years after the flashback-- So here you were, alone in your bed, heart aching for him. Tears running down your cheeks, eyes wide from fear. You had never talked of your love for him after that night, after he shot you down. But ever since he had been comforting you, it only grew. You became dependent on him. You needed him. You never told the others about your terrors, and he didn't either. He respected you. He cared for you. Even if he couldn't love you, wouldn't love you, you felt loved. The illusion was better than the harsh reality. They were called in to investigate some paranormal activity at the old Roberts' Mansion, just a couple miles outside of the city. They discovered a link to it in Florida. Some ghost who was murdered by one of the Roberts boys' back in 1808. Of course, they took a road trip. Egon and Winston, leaving Ray and Peter here to cover the local ghosts. And now you had to wait for him, agonizingly, for 2 whole weeks, because some stupid ghost couldn't keep to itself. You had just awoken from a nightmare. Your eyes blinking open, and your body already in a seating position. He said you could call him. That he wouldn't mind. That he would pick up, any time of the night and day.

You hadn't spent a night without him since... since the night you cut your foot. At times you felt you annoyed him, but he was always quick to show you you didn't. Was it weird? Yes, it was. You didn't understand why he acted the way he did. He told you he couldn't love you, couldn't bring himself to do so, and yet he treated you like... like you mattered to him. Like you were more than just a friend. You sighed, knowing you were seeing everything through rose-colored glasses. 'Why would he love me? He deserves so much more...'. I looked over at the clock. 3:48 AM. Would he be awake? Would he be angry if you called? When the clock turned 4:12, and you still couldn't fall asleep, you decided to call him. You leaned over the bedside table, dialing the number and pulling the phone up to your face. You settled back against the backboard of the bed, curling the phone cord around your finger. The phone ringed thrice before someone picked up. "Hello?" A deep, confused, and rough voice said on the other line. It made your heart flutter, and your brain calm down. He could fix everything with a single word. That beautiful, smooth, and gentle voice of his. "Hey, Egon..." You heard shuffling on the other end. "Y/N.. it's nice to hear your voice." You can hear the small smile he must be making. You sniff quietly, looking around the room. You feel the shadows crawl, the drapes blow, the eery silence. "Egon, I-I... I'm scared." You admitted wiping the tears off your cheek.

"I wish I could be there for you." He finally muttered, sounding solemn. "Don't do that. Don't feel bad. You are here for me, Eegie. Even when you don't have to be, you're always here... thank you." You don't know it, but he smiles at the nickname. "I know. I just wish I could be there in person." "Another week?" "Just a little under. 6 days and counting..." He paused for a moment. "5 days and counting. Didn't realize the time." He finished with a small chuckle. "Sorry..." You say bashfully, starting to feel better. "...I hope I didn't wake you up." "I've been awake for hours." "I know." "You know?" "Your voice gets deeper the longer you've been awake." "It... does?" You blush covering your face with your hand. You wanted to tell him the truth, the whole truth, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. How do you tell someone ' 'Your voice gets deeper, sexier, as the hours go on. I dream of it in my sleep, I long for it while I'm awake. I long for you day in, day out.' '? You don't. Not when they don't feel the same. "...yeah." You respond awkwardly. You can hear him breathing on the other end, thinking, pondering how to respond. "Y/N, I need to tell you something." "You do?" "I... I shouldn't be doing this over the phone." "It's okay Egon, tell me." "I..." You lean forward on the bed, anxious for his response. "...I take back what I said two years ago." That was the moment you shattered completely. Take it back? His promise? He didn't want to take care of you? You were a burden to him. Anger, pain, and sorrow swirled in your veins, leaving you speechless. Not anger at him, no, never at him. Anger at yourself. You pushed him too far, were too clingy, too hopeful. "Y/N? Are you there?" His voice rang in your ears, no longer soothing. It was like pouring whiskey on a dumpster fire. Egon's POV:

I waited for a couple minutes, not sure what was happening. Why wasn't she responding? This was supposed to be a happy moment. I was confessing my love and she... wasn't glad. Was I too late? Did I wait too long to tell her how I felt? Did she move on long ago, and I've been chasing after her like an abandoned puppy? It hurt even to think about. Her, with another man. Someone else holding her, someone else getting to love her. To treat her how she deserves to be treated. To grow old with her, and father her children. I couldn't handle the silence anymore. I needed an answer. I needed to know if I could finally call her mine because I had been hers for so so long. "Y/N? Are you there?" I stuttered out, desperate for a response, any response. She waited only a few seconds this time, finally speaking. "W-Wh-" I heard the phone drop, the sound of rustling. I waited... "Y/N?" and waited... then suddenly: Screams.

word count 3,148

#egon spengler #nightmare #egon x reader #ghostbusters #smut #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #egon being clueless #both parties being terrible at expressing themselves #both parties being terrible at understanding what the other is saying #ghosts ghosts ghosts nothin but ghosts #ghosts #haunted mansions #egon time lets gooo #hes so cute #look at his glasses omgosh #no beta we die like men

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thicc-ray-of-sunshine · 11 months

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I should be sleeping rn but here I am writing explicit Egon Spengler smut. It's gonna be a lazy morning type of thing but I'm stuck

#this is what its come to #its cute too i swear #like yes i love my little science man #egon spengler fanfiction #egon spengler x reader #egon spengler smut

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copiousloverofcopia · 2 years

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WIP tagged by @meowsaidmissy

This is one of many many MANY works in progress....

I am sure you all could guess which one this is.

"Don't you touch me." She cried, wanting his comfort but also so angry for what they had done. For what she had allowed herself to do. He put his hand along her thigh, his eyes crawling over her. A clear hint of lust in his gaze.

"Oh come now sorella, the sin is already done. The swell of your belly is proof of that…what more damage could I do?" Terzo smugly replied.

I tag @cardinal-copia-popia @hallowed-be-thy-username @bewitchingmoonlight @ophelia-markov @ryuzatodraws

(no pressure)

#wip tag #i have sooooo much coming its insane #lots of wips and planned #ghost #well mostly but also an Egon Spengler x reader smut piece cause well 😏#Ghostbusters

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weed-gummy · 2 years

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Why do I do this to myself

#harold ramis #markipler egos #egon smut #egon spengler x reader #egon simp #ghostbusters #ghostbusters afterlife #ghost posts

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spenglersweetheart · 13 days

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Yk the scene where Peter asks Egon how’s school

That but this time the reader has like flashbacks to the night before of her and Egon hehehe

ooooh i can do this 👀 teehee

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( note : i will keep using this gif whenever i get an epididymis related one 🤭 )

The Night Before

Egon Spengler x Reader

WARNINGS : NSFW STUFF ‼️

( another note [a during the writing process note, if that makes sense] : the reader will still be gender neutral but with female anatomy for this bc i genuinely do not know how to write smut without any of the anatomy so ... )

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YOU'RE ORGANIZING ONE OF RAY'S BOOKSHELVES when you hear the bell to the door ring. It signals that someone has entered the store. You manage to take a quick glance, and when you see that it's only Peter, you go back to what you're doing. Although you are focused on what you're doing, your ears can't help to perk up when you hear him and Egon having a conversation.

"Hi Egon, how's school?" Peter says, "I bet those science chicks really dig that big cranium of yours, huh?"

"I think they're more interested in my epididymis," you hear Egon say.

You overhear that, and suddenly a light blush appears onto your face. You almost feel weak to your knees. You felt the way that you did the night before, and your mind couldn't help but wander to what happened.

Suddenly you could feel his hands all over you all over again. One hand gripped tightly on each thigh, kissing your neck and collarbone. Your whimpers echo through the empty bedroom of the Firehouse. You remember the smug grin on his face as he sees you squirm into place on his bed.

" Shhh ... " You hear Egon in the midst of your own whines and whimpers, "The others are still downstairs. Wouldn't want them to hear, now would you?"

You slightly shook your head. The others hadn't known about you and Egon's little relationship. It was a secret, only until you two were ready to tell. But the risk of getting caught had been so much fun.

"E-Egon. . . Fuck──" You manage to moan out, being as quiet as you can. It was just so hard not to be. He does it so well.

You can already feel your walls clench. You were holding onto him like you were a koala, hands slightly gripped onto his back as he kept up with his movements, hitting your spot each time.

" That's it, sweetheart, cum for me," he whispers into your ear.

You couldn't even hear anything. You weren't even paying attention. When Ray tapped you on your shoulder, you yelped, dropping the books that you had in your hands from the moment you froze.

"Y / N? You had been standing there for a minute are you okay?"

Your face was beet red. This was so embarrassing. You quickly pick up the books after giving a nod. "Yep! Yeah! Totally, I am A-Okay!"

"Your face is red, are you catching a fever?"

"Ray, I'm alright," you answer, "I promise. It's just ... Really hot in here."

Ray gives a nod. "Well, you can take a breather. It's about time you took a break from organizing those books," he says.

You immediately nod, walking past Ray, Peter, and then as you go to pass Egon, you stop. Your eyes glance up at him. He's giving you that same smug smirk that he gave you last night. Your face turns red again, and you grumble, going outside into the slightly crisp air.

Not too long after Egon steps outside. You look at him, crossing your arms. "Don't you start."

"I only came to check on you," he said, "Seeing how you're feeling. To see what you're ... thinking about."

He then walks up closer to you. You try to hide what you're thinking about, but it's Egon Spengler. He could read you from a mile away.

"Thinking about my epididymis, are you?"

You face him, playfully pushing him as your face turns red once again. "Oh, shut up," You mumble in embarrassment.

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── ♡ ( AUTHOR'S NOTE! ) :

i need to work on my nsfw writing skills this is getting embarrassing.

#ghostbusters #egon spengler x reader #egon x reader #spence's small fics #egonspenglerishot

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toriisasimp · 16 days

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Feeling Better?

An Egon Spengler x fem!reader One Shot

Prompt: Healing from an injury caused by a failed bust is never fun. Until Egon volunteers himself to watch over you and make sure you’re getting the correct treatment. And he wants to help you feel better.. in more ways than one.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT!! Minors DNI. Egon takes care of the reader. 😉

A/N: DEEP BREATHS DEEP BREATHS It’s canon to me that Egon uses good girl and there’s nothing you can do about it. I am a menace to society. 🤭

The clock ticked to 11 PM on the dot, as you stood at the bathroom sink, trying to reach around your bare torso to apply some healing gel to the burns that were spread across your back.

The burns had been caused by a Class 6 full roaming vapor colliding with your proton pack-less back, tearing up your uniform and digging into your skin as well. The burns were intense, and the team was up the whole rest of the night making sure you were stable.

Since you had been discharged, Egon put himself in charge of the rest of your healing. He made sure to remind you to put on the ointment every night, and apply cooling cloths to your back every other night.

He also had to remind you to sleep topless, so your skin could air out.

It had been about a week since the accident, and it wasn’t entirely impossible to apply the gel by yourself- but tonight was particularly tough. You decided to call in some backup.

“Spengler!” You hollered out the bathroom door, to Egon, who was in the lab.

“Yes?” His voice echoed through the bedroom and into the bathroom.

“Can you come here for a sec?” You yelled again.

Without a response, you heard some shuffling grow closer, and Egon appeared in the doorway. He had shed his sweater vest and tie, and was in his usual white button down and slacks. He was also just in socks, and the realization made you smile.

“What do you need?” He asked before he could lock eyes with you, but even before that his eyes briefly scanned your appearance. You were in sweatpants, and just a bra- and it was only then that you realized he had never seen you without a shirt on. He cleared his throat.

“Can you help? For some reason I just can’t reach-“ You couldn’t even finish the question before he was unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves, nodding his head towards the bedroom.

“Come sit in here, bring the gel and a towel with you.”

You obliged, following after him. He sat in the middle of your bed, motioning to the space in front of him. With a sigh, you plopped down, passing the container of ointment gel and the towel over your shoulder. Your hair was already tied up, so it was out of the way.

As Egon set up behind you, you sighed- letting your back relax and slouch ever so slightly. You then felt his hand brush against the clasp of your bra.

“May I?” He asks softly, perhaps asking for permission to undo it. You nod silently, and he unclasps the bra smoothly, not removing it fully but letting the bands fall to the sides, so he had full access to your bare back.

You hear the squelch of the gel as he runs it over his hands, and then gently begins to spread it over the skin of your back, your shoulder blades, spine, and sides. You shiver, and although it isn’t painful- it causes a bit of discomfort against the healing burns.

“Sorry.” He murmurs softly, sensing your discomfort as you shift on the bed. He continues, one hand holding the container and the other painting the ointment over your back. You let out a sigh, your head dropping forward as your eyes shut, and you relax into the brief touch.

After your back is covered in the gel, you hear the container get screwed up, and he wipes his hands on the towel, before there’s a pause.

You assume he’s going to stand up and excuse himself back to the lab after completing the favor, but instead, you feel his hands on your biceps, easing you back to lean against his chest.

Of course, it takes you by surprise- your brows furrowing and your body clearly hesitating.

“Is it okay if I just-“ He pauses, and you glance over your shoulder to look at him. The soft light of the lamp beside the bed casts upon his face. “Hold you? I haven’t gotten to since the accident.”

Your heart twists in your chest, your brows knitting together as you nod. “Of course.” You say softly, and turn your head back forward and lean back into his touch, his arms naturally finding their way around your waist. His hips framed yours, his legs extended on either side of yours, and yours were bent slightly.

“Are you feeling well?” He asks softly, and you notice how his lips are right against your ear in this position.

You shrug gently. “I’m okay. It’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s not entirely painful either.” With a sigh, you explain how you’re feeling. You feel Egon nod. His hands gently stroke up and down the skin of your stomach.

“I see. Have you been taking the medicine the hospital prescribed you?”

You’re caught like a deer in the headlights, seething as you cringe. No, you haven’t.

Egon says your name lowly, like a warning- and he squeezes your hips slightly.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I just.. forget.” You put your hands up in surrender, trying to brush it off. Egon clearly isn’t taking it lightly.

“You’re not going to feel any more comfortable unless you take them.” He says firmly in your ear, and it makes you shiver.

“I know, I know..” You sound like a child who just got scolded. His fingertips are tracing over the skin just above your waistband, and your eyes are focused on it.

“I want to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible..” He murmurs, his fingers moving to tease just under the band of your sweatpants, making you let out a shaky exhale, looking down at what his hands are doing. And he’s watching too, just over your shoulder.

“Egon..” You whisper out his name, catching your lower lip between your teeth. His hands abandon your lower half, making you whimper weakly, but only for them to gently remove the rest of your bra, leaving your skin for be pinched by the cool air, and completely topless.

His hands run over the skin of your breasts, making you take a heavy breath- your head tilting to the side as your eyes screw shut.

You feel his lips press against your neck, just as one of his hands slide down to dip under your sweatpants, and tease your folds, making you softly moan as your eyes open to see his hands all over you, and your head falls back against his shoulder. He takes this as an invitation to tease a finger at your entrance, slipping it in gently as the other hand runs over the skin of your breast and your nipple.

“Egon-“ You breathe out, and a gasp gets caught in your throat as he slips his finger in fully, beginning to slowly pump in and out. “Fuck-“ You curse, and he lowly hums in your ear.

“How are you feeling now?” He asks teasingly. “Comfortable?” Before pressing another kiss to your collarbone.

“I- yes, just- don’t stop-“ You pant out, and moan as he slips in another finger, your hand flying to hold onto his wrist to make sure he doesn’t pull anything stupid, like stopping.

Your brows furrow as your back arches against his chest, as he spreads kisses against your jawline and neck still. His movements speed it, which causes more weak moans to leave your lips, hips slightly bucking against his hand.

“There you go.. fuck my fingers-“ He purrs into your ear.

And that is enough to send you over the edge rather quickly, one of your hands flying to cover your mouth as you shake in his hold, your orgasm washing over you as your legs try to close, but he holds them open with one hand, the other still fucking you through your climax.

It’s only when your hand tugs at his wrist that he pulls away, bringing his two fingers up to lick your juices clean, and then both arms settle around your waist again.

“Good girl.” He whispers softly to you, and you hum tiredly, turning your head enough to catch his lips in a gentle, slow kiss.

While your eyes are still shut, you feel the bed creak under you as you feel the blankets get pulled up to cover your lower and upper half, Egon’s arms still nestled around you and his head still resting on your shoulder.

“I love you.” He whispers, and sadly, you feel sleep pull you under just as you’re about to respond, and tell him that you love him too.

Hopefully the way you pull his arms tighter around and you nestle against him closer is enough of an answer.

#egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters afterlife #ghostbusters frozen empire #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore #egon my beloved #fanfic #self ship #smut

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holewithinahole · 2 years

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It’s always the quiet ones | Egon Spengler x nb!reader

Summary: “You’re not sleeping with it, are you?” said Peter, before looking back at Egon. The awkwardness of the scientist is heavy with the implication. But the implication is far naughtier than they could imagine.

Ao3 Link

Warning: Shameless smut (that’s all there is), vaginal sex (non-binary reader), oral sex, semi public sex, sex near hazardous substances, non native writer

Hello! I’m back from the deepest part of student hell to drop something I’ve been working on for a little while. I just needed to be dumped by my ex partner to have the final push to finish it lmao It’s completely self indulgent, with my childhood comfort character but I saw that there’s demand on tumblr? You naughty people.

It’s not Arcane related, I’m still on hiatus because I don’t feel like I’m mentally able to write so much requests. I hope you’ll still pardon me! See ya in super hell.

Egon Spengler is strangely demanding today, you muse to yourself as he crowds you against the working bench and proceeds to ravish your mouth thoroughly and diligently, all talented tongue and sporadic nibbles. Broad palms push your hips, long fingers dip into your skin and you sigh against his open mouth. There’s something exciting in the way he suddenly decided he was going to have his way with you on the same table he experiments on, upstairs of Ghostbusters headquarters, at four in the afternoon. Even knowing the boys out and Janine on her well-deserved winter break, never in a million years you’d have thought Egon capable of such a naughty act.

This is oddly out of character.

Your eyes flutter open, your tongue cautiously lapping at his lower lip. His eyes are fixing something behind you, not even aware that you’re looking at him. You chuckle internally, your hands sliding inside his lab coat, feeling his ribs through his woolen sweater vest. Egon, still focusing on his unknown task, gasps softly when you grab his lapels and force his attention on you.

Throwing an eye behind your shoulder, you arch an eyebrow, smirking: “I knew you had something else in mind.”

Next to you, innocently sits a beaker, half-filled with a pink substance.

You hop on the bench. “What is this then? Slime?”

Egon nods, jaw tensed. You cock your head to the right, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, noting with delighted amusement his following gaze.

“Am I part of your newest experiment, Dr. Spengler?”

You can’t help the breathlessness that accompanies your statement. Your fingers graze against the newly exposed skin of your stomach and those brown eyes follow.

“Slime is a psychomagnotheric substance,” comes the technical explanation, a slight rasp at the back of his throat. “We’ve already performed several tests with Ray to assess its reaction to positive stimuli and—“

“You want to observe the positive influence of sex on it.”

His gaze finally jumps back to your face and you’re having a hard time hiding the fondness at the corner of your mouth.

“I do apologize if I overstepped,” he says, pulling away just a fraction.

Straightening up, you wrap both your arms behind his neck.

“Don’t we both have to be, uh, positively emotionally engaged in the activity for it to work?” You ask, sliding your fingers in his hair, fondling gently at his neck.

You physically feel the tension slowly leaving his body. Egon is all subtlety, discreet displays of emotions that you learned to observe and understand.

“Stimulating you enough should not be an issue.” The smirk that adorns his face is painfully attractive, it sends a thrill that travels to your loins.

He lowers his face, lips grazing on the sensitive skin of your neck, the hot tide of his breath on your skin makes you dizzy. “For my part, I have to be extremely focused on the experiment.”

You feel yourself being leaned backward on the working bench as his mouth continues its slow descent along the column of your neck. When he kisses your neck, something exciting runs underneath your skin: something akin to tickles and goosebumps all in one. Something that makes you want to either curl yourself up or expose your throat for more.

On your left, your eye catches something. Shoving Egon back gently, he straightens up, intrigued.

“Better keep track of everything then,” you smile, pointing at the tape recorder he uses to record himself tinkering with the experiments at hand.

You see the slight confusion in his eyes before the thought finally settles.

“It’d be for the best, yes.” It’s now painfully obvious that he’s hard in his neatly pressed pants.

He strolls to the device and turns it on as you shed your shirt, baring your chest completely. His eyes are boring holes into you behind his glasses that he pushes up his nose before starting the recording.

“Experiment number thirteen on generating a positive reaction from the slime.” Egon motions you closer with a curved finger and you happily sauntered toward him. “Today, I have an assistant.”

Oh, that mischievous twinkle bears heavy consequences. “I’ll have to ask you to comment on our future tests.”

“You’re the scientist here, Doctor,” you try to deflect.

“As this experiment relies heavily on your impressions, I’ll have to ask you to be vocal.”

Bastard.

Hands are soon back sliding up and down your still-clothed thighs. “Shall we begin?”

Any retort genuinely dies in your throat as he presses against you, his pelvis delightfully grinding against your lower stomach. That stunt with the tape recording was fruitful both for immediate results and for the long-term satisfaction of knowing Egon Spengler’s a kinky fucker.

Always the quiet ones, you muse.

For an instant, you could have been in your apartment, a blissful evening with Dr. Spengler on top of you. All roaming hands on your skin, slowly going down, down to business. Quick and efficient, that’s the way you both like it. But right at this moment, if you hadn’t memorized all their calluses and crevices, those hands could belong to someone else. Those hands that barely caress a nipple, enough to make your breath catch.

The deliberateness of how his knuckles rack over the sensitive area, pads of his fingers pinching, rolling, spreading this tightness in your guts. The more it goes on, the more you can feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“Stimulation of erogenous zones, specifically the areola area.” His voice is so even. “Your impressions?”

You frown. “It should be obvious.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t plug in the camera.”

The scoff shamefully turns into a soft moan thanks to a deliberate hard pinch on your right nipple.

“Specificities, please.”

“Damn it!” You sigh. “It feels good, all right?” You don’t like to talk during sex and he usually doesn’t either.

“Is slight pain enhancing the experience?” He asks, pinching both your nipples hard.

“Ah!” You don’t expect the surge shooting through you, your chest skin tugging almost uncomfortably as more wetness spreads in your underwear.

“Yes?” Egon asks.

“Yes!” You hiss through clenched teeth.

“Conclusive experiment then.” He dips down, sticking his tongue out to lap at the reddened skin, deliberately avoiding your nipple. “Although your slight irritation might be a predicament to our progress.”

No shit. “I wonder why.”

His mouth encloses the tip of your tit, suckling softly, swirling his tongue as a reminiscence of your kiss. You don’t even bother to suppress the gasp that leaves your mouth, getting lost in the moist entrapment, in the way his long nose nuzzles your supple skin, in the soft brush of his hair raising goosebumps in its path. Your fingers fully tangle in it, holding him close to you, pushing him into your chest so he can feel your heartbeat.

Perhaps a wonderful part of Egon’s brain will decide that your BPM is important data to collect.

You have a moment of awareness, registering that the only sounds that will be heard in the recording are your gasps and soft moans and the indecent slurps of Egon’s tongue. It makes your face flame up, your cheeks so hot you feel the perspiration on your skin.

What would be more embarrassing, you wonder, one of the boys finding the recording or getting caught right here right now?

“Focus.” The sound of Egon’s voice startles you. “It’s supposed to be positive reinforcement.”

“Uh,” you battle your eyelashes.

Egon straightens up, righting his glasses on his face. “Let’s move onward.”

“You—“ Agile fingers take hold of your pants’ button and pop it off, unzipping them before silently asking you with a tug to shimmy out of them. “He’s forcing me out of my clothes,” you say, directing your words at the tape.

“A necessary part of the experiment.”

Your pants are halfway across your thighs when he grabs hold of your waist and hoists you on the bench.

“Holy—“ You gasp, naturally wrapping your arms around his neck. Who would have thought you had a thing for displays of strength?

“Would you mind getting rid of your garments?” Egon smirks knowingly.

Grumbling, you untie your shoes and take the rest of your pants and your socks off, throwing them across the room. You now face Egon almost entirely naked while he still stands in his button-down and sweater vest, lab coat on top, with his pants slightly wrinkled – although unmistakably tented. Oh, and how could you forget the goddamn tie… You would have also gotten rid of your underwear if he hadn’t pressed his palm on your mount.

“Right down to business I see,” you pant.

He arches an eyebrow. “You’re burning up here.” The pressure of the heel of his palm squishing down your outer labia against your clit feels beautiful. “Your underwear is soaked.”

You’re torn between the rush of pleasure and the urge to slap him for how unaffected he sounds.

“This doesn’t soun—ah, very professional, Doctor.”

The alternating amounts of pressure have you moving your hips, searching for more, demanding a faster pace, a harder push. He remains desperately steady.

“Copious amount vaginal discharge,” Egon notes, and a huge rush of shame shoots through you. “More than average I’d say.”

“You’d say?” You choke out.

“You do appear to be wetter than usual although we’ve barely started our activities.” The bastard smirks.

Why is that, lingers in the air, a loud but unspoken question. And you’re now certain Egon takes his own immediate and long-term satisfaction knowing you’re a kinky fucker as well. You’re just a couple of degenerates and doesn’t that turn you on more than it should.

His palm presses more firmly against you and you can’t take it anymore, you need his finger on you, in you, anywhere but separated by this stupid piece of fabric.

“Stop— stop spreading it!” You cry out stupidly. “You’re ruining a very decent pair of underwear.”

Egon scoffs. “I am?”

The squish that follows is a betrayal from your body you’ll never forget. “Take it off,” you mewl.

So he steps back, stops touching you altogether, and raises an eyebrow at you. Groaning, you get rid of your soaked underwear, throwing it at a random place in the room, quickly forgetting about the uncomfortable wet sensation because Egon sheds off his lab coat in a swift movement. You are captivated by the stretch of his sweater vest against his chest, and even more entranced by the slow teasing appearance of his forearms as he rolls up his sleeves.

“Isn’t having a lab coat an essential security guideline?”

You keep spewing teasing sentences but you know that your sanity is hanging by a thread.

He hums: “When manipulating hazardous substances, yes.”

He finishes securing his sleeves in the curve of his elbows and steps in front of you once more. Your treacherous heart skips a beat; you don’t even understand why.

“Having your way with me right next to an unknown paranormal substance isn’t considered a hazard?”

“The slime is neutronized, there’s no risk of causticity for your skin,” Egon answers in all seriousness.

Right now, it’s his big callused hands that you want on your skin.

And he delivers by grabbing each thigh in each hand, spreading them almost uncomfortably. Fuck, you think because you can feel how wet you are as the cold sensation spreads from your core to the cleft of your ass cheeks. By the end of his experiment, you’ll have dribbled all over the table.

He leans to you and captures your lips in another searing kiss. The curve of his nose fits perfectly next to yours, as both your mouths mold into a new shape. All your senses are awake and aware: your taste buds sweet from the teeth-rooting chocolate bars he loves to eat, your skin shivering from pleasure, and the always-too-cold air of the lab. Your muscles are quivering from being all crooked, folded over a flat surface in that way.

Even at an even level, he towers over you with his height and the wide square-ness of his frame. You want to press against him, squish your very self on his body. Although he might not like his clothes to be ruined by your moistness, you entertain the idea in your head because nothing turns you on more than seeing Egon Spengler messy and disheveled.

“As I won’t be able to, I’m counting on you to voice out your comments,” he says against your lips.

You don’t have time to ask why, his face is already down between your legs. Your breath hitches, stops, leaves your body entirely.

Down to business, you reminisce.

He starts by peppering small kisses inside your inner thighs but it’s not worshipping, it’s edging. You sometimes feel his tongue lap out at your skin, you also shiver when he gently blows against your core, sending another wave of chills on your body.

“Egon…” you sigh.

As on cue, he decides to spread your labia open with his fingers, and dear God, you can feel his breath tickling your clit, an inch away from any real pleasure. An inch he soon reduces to nothing as he licks a long, fat stroke all the way up your sex.

It’s a real moan that escapes your mouth this time, already thirsty for the next move. He keeps lapping, up and down, flattening his tongue completely against your opening, drinking more of the wetness amassed in his median sulcus.

You’re slowly but surely being driven to the edge, just hovering over the precipice but there’s still so much that you need to finally accept to let yourself fall. So he takes your metaphorical hand and leads you closer by finally pressing his nose in your pubes, jaw slacking open as he delivers a strong suction right on your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your hand grabs his hair, instinctively guiding him closer.

It went through you like a zap, a single strike of lightning. Your clit is tingling, your cunt dripping and your whole body shivering. But it doesn’t stop there as the very tip of his tongue teases you, a quick succession of round-way trips, delivered with accurate frequency.

His brows are furrowed; you can feel the crease in his forehead as you gently pass your hand in the hair at the base of his cranium, flattening his curls. The action makes his eyes snap up at you. You feel stupid for staring at him without saying a word but you lost all vocabulary with the simple sight of such a special man pleasuring you so unapologetically.

He draws back a little, the corners of his mouth and his chin are glistening.

Filthy, so fucking filthy.

“Any comments?” His voice is deeper than usual, slightly scratching.

“I’m kinda at a loss of words right now,” you say genuinely.

Egon nods and, as if endowed with an important life-or-death mission, dives in once more, this time ignoring your throbbing clit to focus on your opening. The feeling of his tongue breaching in, squirming inside is everything and nothing at once. You do openly moan, trusting your hips to his face, again and again, chasing this half-sensation of fullness. The pleasure is not a spike of hormones like having your clit sucked and suckled. It’s a diffuse sensation of pleasure, the simple erotic feeling of his slippery tongue massaging your walls.

He trusts in and out, everything around you is just blurred lights behind your eyelids but you snap them open when he starts rubbing your clit with his thumb without stopping his previous activities. You know this instant that you’re going to come on his face if he keeps delivering the most perfect movements to all the right places.

“Egon, please…” You squeeze at his curls. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

It’s with a raised eyebrow that he finally quits the warmth between your thighs. “Wouldn’t that be the desired ending point of our experiment?”

He grabs a paper napkin that was innocently left there by Ray when he brought food earlier and wipes his mouth off your juices before throwing it in the bin.

You watch his movements, catching your breath and your trail of thought. “I need more than that.”

“Please do specify what is that and how can I give you more of it.”

A gentleman and an asshole, all in one. You want so much to tell him to go to hell but you’re so far gone in preliminaries you don’t think yourself able to delay your primal need to be fucked.

“I’ll show you,” you say, motioning him closer.

He has this look where he’s slightly apprehensive of the logical pursuit of things but he steps in between your legs once more. Your left-hand slides behind his neck and beckons him closer, close enough for you to press your other hand to the front of his pants. His mouth opens slightly but he doesn’t move away so you keep palming him, feeling how he hardens against your fingers. Even through his loose-fitting pants, the hard line of his cock is flagrant.

Stopping your neck petting, you unbuckle his belt, lowering his zipper, and finally putting your digits on something more palpable.

“I thought we agreed that I had to focus exclusively on the experiment,” he sighs.

“Actually,” you slip your hand farther in between his pants and the tight fit of his cotton briefs. “I never agreed to anything.”

The hotness is making your hand moist but you reveal in the sound he makes when you push harder, full hand flat against the entirety of his dick, the tip of your fingers grazing the beginning of his balls.

“Remind me to have you sign a written contract next time.”

Despite his tone-down exterior, you notice his eyelids dropping, the small exhales leaving his parted lips because your eyes are fixed on his face, registering.

“Next time?”

There’s definitely a joke underlying your question but his dark gaze makes you question everything. Damn, he’s really into that, isn’t he?

Into you, displayed on his working bench to be examined.

“Egon, I need you to fuck me—” you choke out. “—right now.”

Strangely, there are no dry comments anymore. Only the hard click of his shut jaw and the slight fumble of his hand slapping yours away, diving into his briefs and finally – finally, getting out his cock. If you had more time, you’d put your mouth on it, just to have a taste of the glistening circumcised head. But for now, you stay perfectly content watching it disappear in the tight ring of his fist.

Realistically, you’ve stayed perfectly content for exactly five seconds.

“Come on,” you whine, spreading your legs. Ah, there is the aforementioned puddle.

“Yes,” he huffs. Yes, ok.”

With one hand, he grabs your left thigh, the other guiding his length closer and closer to your core, your heart beating furiously in your chest. His gland makes contact with your entrance. With it, he traces an unknown pattern on your lips, pushing its slit on your clit and mingling both your fluids together. Definitely driving you insane.

“E-gon—“

So he pushes inside, in one, unstopping, hard push until he’s sheathed, your body just a pliant scabbard. You choke on any retort, hissing, the stretch is obviously tight. Yet, deliciously aching, you engulf his length entirely and the sole sensation of your walls rubbed in that perfect way is almost too much. You tug him closer, finally pressing your sweating body to the unruffled surface of his clothes.

His big hand return to your other thigh and he fucks into you. His snaps are precise and strong; he completely erases any traces of pain with the fluid movement of his hips. You’re definitively panting, your hot breath bouncing back from his cheeks to yours and you forget about the weird twist of your body. Your squished position is making the column of his dick rub perfectly at the top of your entrance.

“Ah— oh fuck,” you close your eyes, lost in the heat.

Egon hums and hides in your neck once more, seemingly conflicted between kissing and teasing your skin with his breath. So close to your ear, you can discern the hitch in his pants, his hidden soft moans, and your heart sores.

“Can I—“ he whispers.

You turn your head to look at him, at his open face and big brown eyes and you know he could ask anything, you’d say yes. So, you nod.

He pushes you back gently on the bench, pushing away pencils and cables in a broad swipe of his arm. Some clatter on the ground and his impatience startles a laugh out of you. There’s a small rictus at the corner of his mouth that could either be a grin or a scowl; it only makes you smile more. Impatience is also starting to run wild underneath your skin. You spread your legs wider, your fingers lazily grazing your stomach up to your chest then dipping all the way down.

It’s indecent how you stretch around him; you love to feel it with the tips of your fingers. You’re stretching so wide your clit feels tight when you tug at it. It’s dry but it still grants you with a few shots of hormones. When you throw a look at Egon, you realize he’s watching, alternating with your face, the sight of his dick buried inside you and your self-pleasuring display. He sucks his thumb in his mouth, efficiently coating it before pushing your hand away and rubbing circles right on top of the bud.

The lubrication makes the action more pleasurable; reviving your calmed-down orgasm. Except, this time, you can feel yourself contract around his sex, as if wishing to suck him impossibly deeper. This small moment of trance, the calm before the storm, stops when he withdraws his hand, anchoring himself again to your legs.

From then, you don’t have to tell him anything: he snaps his hips forward hard. Your body pushes into the bench, your hand pointlessly grabbing the edge to keep you from slipping. From there, it doesn’t stop. He fucks into you ruthlessly, the position connecting him to you from tip to base. The buckle of his belt whacks the tender skin of your ass cheeks contrasting with the soft cotton of his pants. His right-hand pushes your thigh onto the flat surface of the table and your muscles are screaming with the stretch but they’re quieter than your moans.

“There— ah, please—“

He listens. The tip of his dick is lodged deep in your loins, the back-and-forth movement stimulating all the right nerves. You’re squeezing him, your folds moving with his cock, sucking him inside and locking him in, even when he pushes back. Sometimes the ridges of his head catch on your tight opening before plunging back inside, making you yelp. You wonder if you’re going to cum on his dick, too stimulated to prevent it.

You moan to the sounds of his slaps, to the rhythm of the bench creaking. Your eyes roll back when he aims a perfectly good shift and your free hand plays with your nipple, fueling the fire in your body.

“Shit,” Egon huffs out, his gaze glazy behind his glasses.

You understand. “Close too— just a little—“

He nods and aren’t his motions the best, the most precise… more erratic, quicker and shorter yes, but oh so good. You can feel the tell-tale tightening in your guts so you chase your own orgasm by pushing back, meeting his hips. His ball-sack slaps against your ass and your skins meet in loud smacks, definitely resonating in all the firehouse.

“Do you need—“

“No, no, just—“ you mewl. “Keep doing that, you’re perfect.”

The little moan he lets out travels through your body like wildfire. And there, you feel it: the hot spill of his semen inside you, coating your walls and it’s the mere sensation alone that finally pushes you over the edge. Your vagina cramps around his cock, your own ejaculation milky, dripping at the base of his dick and the noise is vulgar, loud and so fucking hot.

For a little while, he keeps trusting in, making sure everything belonging to him got stuffed inside you. It makes you clench harder, divided between chasing this almost-unbearable tightness or crying for him to stop. You have no idea if you’re actually crying but your cheeks feel hot as your body spasms, mouth lewdly hanging open, could you truly cum a second time from overstimulation alone?

But thankfully, he slowly slides out, both of you sighing. You immediately stick your hand down, feeling the dribbles of cum coming out of you, trickling down in the crack of your ass, on the table and on the ground.

Your breath finally settles down after a few minutes. Your eyes have drifted closed without you noticing. Your heartbeat is slowing down and you feel a deep wave of contentment replacing the past hunger.

“Hey,” his voice is back to its even self.

You crack one eye open. He holds one of the napkins, motioning you to sit up as he diligently wipes out most of your spend. The napkin is rough on your skin but you silently thank him nonetheless.

You throw a glance around you. You made an absolute mess. “Ew,” you scowl.

The little smile lightening his face makes your heart throb for an entirely different sentiment than before. You notice he’d already tug his cock back into his briefs like nothing happened. On the front of his pants however…

“Oops,” you chuckle. “’Guess you’ll have to keep working with your lab coat closed.”

Egon’s scowl of disgust is barely concealed as he unsuccessfully tries to wipe the remains of your self-lubrication on his cotton pants.

“I should change,” he states bluntly. One of his sleeves has slid along his arm during the act and his hair is truly a sight; you take great pride in his actual state.

“I think you look amazing.”

He stares at you for a couple of seconds before a beautiful crooked smile stretch on his face. You blame it on post-coital bliss but your whole body is screaming your adoration for this man.

“So,” your own voice cracks but you ignore it. “Successful experiment?”

Egon clears his throat. “I think more testing is required.”

Of course.

#egon spengler x reader #egon spengler #ghostbusters #ghostbusters imagine #ghostbusters reader insert #non binary reader

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