#egon/reader

[tuliptired]

Ello! Hope Im not a bother, but i was hoping to make a one-shot request? I looked around and it looks like you are still taking requests as of the moment, very sorry if I missed something.

Anyways, if its not too much trouble, could you write Egon Spengler x Baker Y/N? I think that would be a fun dynamic!

If thats not to your liking, what about Egon x Shy Y/N?

Love your works, I check the ghostbusters tag daily to see if youve written anything new. Thank you so much, love ya have a great day and night!!!

How Sweet It Is (To be Loved by You)

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Baker!GN!Reader

It's never too much trouble...no idea if I've used this gif before

did yall hear about the SNL biopic btw oh my gahh...

Better formatting on Ao3! (italics)

Your relationship started with a cupcake. As the story goes, told lovingly by your now mutual friends, there was a bust at a retirement home, and one of the caregivers insisted on sending the boys home with a treat in addition to the hefty bill. Demanded, actually, practically shoving a metal tin full of pastry into Egon’s hands as he attempted to discreetly sneak away.

“Jackpot,” Peter leaned over, happily surprised as nimble fingers opened the lid. The smell of sugary sweets wafted through the car, prompting Winston to extend his hand to the backseat, palm soon full of muffin. Egon was patient, letting everyone take something for themselves, before finally deciding on a blue-iced chocolate cupcake, sweet tooth waiting to be satisfied.

“Where’d this come from?” Ray, Peter, and Winston stood in the kitchen, confused at the spread of different colored boxes and containers. Upon further inspection, they were full of even more cupcakes, each the same blue iced chocolate flavor. Egon sat with his hands folded on the countertop, unfazed at their reactions to his display like any true man of science would be.

He made a tick mark on a long list of names, clipboard somewhere in the organized, delicious chaos. “If you must know, I’m testing every bakery in the area to find the one I ate that evening. I’ve yet to find it.”

Ray shrugged, taking note of just how many locations he had procured food from. “Not the weirdest thing you’ve done for a result,” he admitted.

“Good food’ll do that to you,” Winston laughed, Peter reaching over to gauge how mad Egon would get if he tried to take a sample from one of his possible matches.

Egon didn’t look up, flipping to the next page. “Go ahead, those are the rejects. They'd end up in the trash, anyway.”

Peter peeled away the paper, going through the motions of ripping the bottom of the cake and placing it over the top of the frosting. “Rejects.” he parroted plainly. “What’re you gonna do when you find the right store? Stand in the window?”

He glared up at him above his glasses. “No, I’ll buy a half dozen and go on with my day,” he unfolded a wax lined box, “so if you could leave me to my research?” Research being, going down a line of cupcakes. They each exchanged glances, before filing out. Egon could be just as tenacious as everyone else, when he felt like it.

Except, that tenacity wavered in the face of unfamiliarity. The only reason Egon was willing to go in your bakery to begin with is because the others had forced him. “Don’t be a baby,” as Venkman had put it. He finally found the match, in fact he had found it a few days ago. But he took a glance at the bustling establishment on the day in which he set out on his own, and got cold feet. Especially when he accidentally locked eyes with the smiling artisan while he just stood in the window.

His friends had managed to shove him towards the counter without a second thought. The same person he’d seen through the tall window was behind the counter now, greeting them all kindly. The bandana you had used to keep your hair in check must’ve been failing to do its job, evident by the flour near your temple, caught in a few strands. Egon’s fingers twitched.

Peter flicked him on the lower back when he failed to respond like a typical customer, making Egon come-to and clear his throat. “May I get a half dozen chocolate?” he asked robotically.

“You may,” you grinned at his grammar, “but, chocolate what?”

Egon’s ability to speak stopped short at his misstep, unable to let out anything but unintelligible stammers, and Egon never stammers. “Cupcakes, please,” Ray spoke up for him, catching wind.  

You nodded, moving to the display rack to place his order in a smaller, blue box. Peter wasn’t content with how smoothly this interaction was going as he watched on with a bored expression. “Funny story, actually,” he caught your attention through the framework.

You laughed at how it made him look like he was in a horizontal jail cell. “Yeah?”

Peter raised Egon’s stiff arm for him at the elbow. “We walk in one night and catch Egon with at least 20 different cupcakes, trying to find yours ‘cause he missed it so much.” he regaled.

He may have caught you blushing. Were you blushing? He shouldn’t stare at business owners when they were just trying to work. “Well,” you started folding the corners of the parcel, “assuming you liked them- and you guys are pretty important to the city…” You held them out to him with two hands. “Just take them. No charge.”

Egon felt like there was smoke rising from the top of his head, or the espresso machine, as he shuffled out, and you leaned over the counter to call after him: “Come back anytime, for whatever! On the house!” 

The rest happened slowly, but surely, and you enjoyed it thoroughly. On an earlier morning, you and your pubescent employee were handling the typical rush you got around breakfast. Between prepping, a small burn from the oven, packing orders, ringing people up, and a quick trip to the corner-grocery for more milk, you finally had a spare minute to breathe, both hands pressing into the counter.

A blur of beige and a trail of smog put an end to your mini-relaxation, and you hurried over to the door. “Stantz! Spengler!” you beckoned before they could turn the corner.

Like children, they found their way to your storefront, though Egon looked rather apprehensive with a used trap dangling from his gloved fist. “Good morning, guys,” you urged them inside, “did you eat yet?”

“We really should get going.” Egon said after Ray greeted you. Most of the sickly smell from the trap was left outside, and it was too covered up by the scent of sugar and warmth that everyone but you swore clung to the bakery for you to worry about it driving away customers.

You ignored his protests, crossing behind the counter. “Eat in the morning or you’ll crash in the afternoon,” you started pouring two cups of hot coffee.

“There’s no need-” you interrupted with a hand. “We’re fine,” he continued anyway.

Ray’s stomach betrayed his friend’s wishes. “Something small wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Listen to your friend, Egon.” you warned, adding a bit of whipped cream to both cups to literally sweeten the deal. “You need to eat.”

He frowned, but you didn’t care much. “We have a Class lll in our hands, now is hardly the time for-” you cut him off again, stuffing his mouth with a blueberry danish. As he annoyedly chewed, you procured a paper bag from the back, wrapping his hand around the handle.

“Too bad I already packed for everyone,” you patted his knuckles when he acquiesced, catching sight of what was inside with a small smile. “You’re crabby when you’re hungry.”

Egon opened his mouth to respond, but the contraption in his left hand started beeping. Are they supposed to beep? You’d never seen them do so before. It seemed as if the two experts themselves hadn’t either. 

You stood on your toes to give him a parting kiss, Ray grabbing both paper cups in the meantime before you could start shooing them out. “Go, go- don’t let that thing loose in here. And swing by later, okay?”

He followed your lips when you pulled away, but the ominous beeping drove him to the door and down the street. You sighed to yourself, already missing him. None of the regulars in your store seemed to pay any mind to the local celebrities- or the weapons they had strapped to themselves, as Egon floated in and out during different parts of his day at least once a week.

Egon knocked on the glass door, soft light and music slipping through as he got your attention. When you let him in, the distinct whiff of cookies enveloped him like the warm temperature of your little shop. It was his favorite part of visiting you, apart from actually getting to see you. “How was today?” he spoke over the soft jazz that you apologetically turned down.

“Better,” you were about to run a Crisco covered hand through the front of your hair before you stopped yourself, “better.” Egon only then noticed how many cookies you had managed to make for having only closed an hour ago. “I have more in the oven,” you said from the back wall with the smaller front oven while you hurriedly took out a hot tray with a mitt and put a cool one in.

It wasn’t just cookies, but brownies, sweetbreads, and cinnamon rolls. “Are you…restocking?”

You laughed, a quarter manically and another quarter incredulously, and started to peel cooked pastry off of baking sheets. “If anything, we have too much stock.” you paused your fervor, frowning at your display case’s abundance. “I’ll send you home with some- give them to your clients or eat them or something.” 

You were barely done shutting the sliding glass when you popped up, clapping your hands once and frankly startling him. “Pies! I know what I need to make now! I’ll make some pies and maybe a cake and we can head home.” Before you could disappear into the kitchen, he stepped in your way, two soothing hands on your shoulders.

“You’re stress baking.” 

Egon couldn’t hide his amusement at your familiar despondent expression, as if you were coming down from a high. “Was it that obvious?”

“Somewhat,” he stroked up and down your arm, steering you to the stool you kept tucked away behind the register and pulling up a chair for himself on the other side. “What’s wrong?”

He enjoyed the chairs you had because of their structural variety, and the fact they didn’t make him feel like a giant. 

You slumped your head into your since-dried hands, groaning out of frustration. “It’s just the season, I guess. A ton of people come by, bringing their dumb boyfriends-” you paused, realizing what you said, “no offense.”

“None taken.”

“-And they come looking at our stuff to see if we’re good enough for, like, baby showers and weddings and all that.”

A car passed by on the street, definitely above the city’s speed limit for a business area. “I assume that’s a good thing?”

“It’s great,” you sat up, “we want people to pick us. But it means everything has to look great, and we have to get ready for half a million custom orders.”

That would be a partial reason for the sudden uptick in inventory, combined with the pressure to make a good first impression. But you were working so aimlessly hard that you looked crazed, all by yourself. “Your employees aren’t willing to help?” Egon questioned.

You stood, addressing the heaps of different cookies, the only creation of yours without a home. “They are. But they’re kids- I can’t work them that hard. It’s probably illegal, too. They won’t be around for the next couple of days anyway.”

He could sympathize with your plight- backed into a seasonal corner that business owners just had to get used to. “I’m sorry,” Egon offered, “I’m not as skilled in your trade, but is there anything I can do to make it easier?”

You smiled your first genuine smile since he arrived. “There is, actually,” your tone was excited as you moved to the freezer, “just let me finish these and I’ll fill you in.”

Egon would’ve stopped you from continuing to try to work, but he relaxed when you brought out pre-prepared bags of icing and miscellaneous confectionaries, knowing that decoration was the more relaxing aspect of the art. 

He both sat in comfortable quiet as you put all your focus into icing, piping, and arranging.  It was pleasant, knowing that you had something so ardent that you cared so deeply about, even if it was dismissed as a mere hobby while you were close to collapsing to exhaustion in the bakery you financed on your own. It was a mix of career and craft- one of the many reasons he had grown to give you his utmost respect.

You were eventually done, making the task of embellishing countless treats look effortless. You handed him a cookie, which he gladly took. “I need you to be honest,” you counted on his affinity for sweets. He took a bite, surveying the dessert after the initial pleasure your baking always brought him.

“Raspberry compote,” Egon took a second, “and coffee icing.”

“Good job!” you scribbled something down on a spare slip of paper after springing the register drawer open. “Rating?”

“10/10”

“Honest.”

“That is my honesty. But if you wanted the unweighted scale, 7/10. The two flavors balance each other very well.”

You passed him another, which he promptly ate without being asked to. “On the crumbly side. Is that intentional?”

A nod. “A little less butter than usual. Old ladies tend to like those.”

He put a hand on his chin contemplatively. “6/10- marmalade. A softer version would get a higher placement, it would be a shame to lose interest from those who don’t fit the demographic.”

You copied down what he said, seemingly happy with any sort of feedback. “And here I thought I’d have to help you cross the street.”

The night went on like that for a while, and Egon grinned to himself at the parallels he had only just noticed- another mix of career and craft, now inquiry and indulgence. You looked like a proper scientist- or, a food scientist, scrawling down notes and numbers that he’s sure only you would be able to decode. He felt the corners of his face dimple in a familiar smile while he watched you- something he’d found himself doing much, much more.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, suspicious of his joy.

“Nothing,” Egon excused himself, “you just look incredibly nice.”

 You squeezed the hand that he rested on the counter, silently appreciative. “Thanks- for that, and for helping me out. Let me get you home before you barf.”

He’d learned to live with the indecencies, helping you tidy up the best he could without breaching the system of organization you had. When you returned from the back with your personal things, he let you loop your arm around his for the semi-short journey home.

Egon only let you go so you could lock the door, and he stared at your back for the entire time that you did. “If I were having a baby shower, I’d come here.”

There were practically stars in your eyes. “Really?” 

“Really.” You planted a gratuitous kiss to the side of his face, before setting off towards his apartment.

Over the course of a few days, your boyfriend showed up earlier in order to take you into work, and keep you company as you tried to quell the impending anxiety. When regulars faded out and new faces came in- possible clients, you assured him with a non convincing tone that he had a job, too. If your ego was bigger, you’d be bragging about the compliments and inquiries your store got, not to mention the referrals to friends regarding special upcoming events. But, entrepreneurship had taught you to be humble, so you were resigned to spilling it all over a phone call to the firehouse.

One morning, you forced Egon out before anyone could arrive, asserting that he had a day off and he should find a way to relax. He asserted that this was how he relaxed, but you had a key to the front door and he didn’t, so that solved that. 

Not long after he was gone, you were hastily punching his number in, bouncing on your heels and out of breath.

“Hello?"

“Rich girl- eloping- needs a wedding cake- lots of money,” you forced out like you were out of air, already seeing dollar signs in tandem with the minutes you were losing. “But I have a crazy favor to ask.”

Very soon, “OPEN” was flipped to “CLOSED (sorry)” and you put on your serious business apron. Egon stood behind you, unsure of what to do as you jumped from here to there, double checking that you had absolutely everything you needed.

You only stopped when you realized that he wasn’t in the proper attire. “C’mon, Spengler,” you chastised him while cinching the strings of a smock around his waist.

“Game plan,” you led him to the back where all the industrial sized equipment was, “three tiers, green and pink, white cake. She gave me creative freedom, so I’m kinda flying blind.”

Egon’s eyes were on you as you laid out a few large bowls. “Have you ever…made a wedding cake on such short notice? I assumed they take days.”

“They do! And they’re the one thing I swore to never sell!” He looked disappointed in you, but you weren’t fazed, grabbing both of his hands. “$1,500,” Egon’s eyes widen as you continued, “think of what that could buy.”

He pushed up the bridge of his glasses like a flustered schoolboy. “That’s…a lot of copper wiring.”

“So many new mixers! And without the down payment! That’s why we need to start while we already have the time.”

Realistically, it was more of you starting everything while Egon was subjected to measuring or throwing away eggshells. But, you eventually gave him bigger responsibilities, as there was no way you’d be done in time for the impromptu-wedding if you worked one-by-one. 

You turned from what you were doing after instructing him to mix the batter for the top layer, being met with his bare forearms, dress shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“What?” Egon noticed your commotion halting. “Am I overmixing?” 

You didn’t answer, still staring at his toned arms. He should help out more often- your stand mixer cutting out on you must’ve been a blessing in disguise. Your blatant ogling was cut short when he stopped his ministrations, resting the whisk against the lip of the bowl.

“Don’t get distracted.” He tried to sound condemnatory, but it was hard to feel scolded when the scholar had on one of your teenaged employee’s spare pink bibs around his front and he was almost bent over the edge of the counter space in the midst of his focus.

You could breathe a little easier when the timer went off for the tiniest layer’s completion in the biggest oven. You took the searing pan out carefully, and your worry spiked again when you saw how dark the unfrosted dessert was along the top. You went through a list of things that might’ve gone wrong-  was the oven at the right temperature? Setting? You definitely let it bake for the right time. It wasn’t until you saw a pair of little cylinders, tucked away in the havoc, that you put two and two together.

“Which one of these did you use?”

Egon looked like a mix of confused and concerned. “This one, baking soda.”

That’s how he got put out your kitchen for a considerable amount of time, until he knocked at the round window separating you both.

“Are you sorry?”

A pause. “Not anymore than I was 20 minutes ago.”

“I’m locking the door.”

He was allowed back in after a long and rehearsed apology. Soon, all tiers were baked, except for the base, and you were aching all over. The whole cake process never got any less demanding on you.

Egon must’ve seen how you stretched your arm across your chest before you tried to continue on anything. “Are you feeling okay?” 

“I’ll be fine- just sore.” you answered truthfully, before slightly jumping at the feeling of hands wrapping around your middle.

“Take a break,” he herded you to a folding chair you kept in there- the only chair. You were slotted in between his knees, thoroughly confused. He only got like this every blue moon.

It did feel great to be off your feet for a second, despite your cushy sneakers. “What’re you getting at?” 

His strong hands made work of your tense biceps. “Nothing lascivious. I just think you should save your energy for the important part,” you stifled a noise at his doctoral tone and the way his thumbs kneaded at the space in between your shoulder blades, “and you’ve been working very hard.”

“Baking makes you a freak,” you scoffed, but hedonistically let him continue to dote on you.

Soon it was time to keep moving, attractive masseuse or otherwise. You put Egon in charge of coloring the buttercream while you ran out to the store for the second time in only a few days, making a mental note to use some of the bride-to-be’s payment to keep a consistent supply of the little things.

When you returned, though, it wasn’t as you had expected. You picked up the metal bowl full of neon icing incredulously. “I said green, not snot!”

“I made green,” he didn’t budge, not seeing how gaudy this would look in the middle of a reception hall.

You pushed a finger in between his brows. “You’re such a guy,” you remarked, regardless of your own gender, as you hassled him out of the way. “Watch.” 

With a bit of red, the bright green dulled into a paler color, fit for a wedding. “Can I trust you with pink?” you asked as if he was a child.

Egon’s expression was unreadable. “No promises.”

Half of the green was shoveled into piping bags when he was finished, presenting the baby pink mixture to you like a project would be presented to a teacher. “That’s better,” you started, taking the bowl while he kept the spatula. You’d assumed that Egon was going to wash it or scrape off the excess or something, but your eyes squeezed shut as something cold and tacky hit your nose.

Frosting, pink frosting. His audacity. You took the green spatula, getting him back on the cheek. That led to him getting you back on the forehead, ear, chin, and eventually some strays ended up in the corner of your mouth, which he was more than happy to take care of. Baking really made him a freak, you thought. You probably shouldn’t be kissing over someone’s wedding memorabilia, but you shortly noticed that was the icing for each tier and its decoration. You lost an hour cleaning and starting from scratch on the buttercream, steering clear of each other in a respective corner each.

You had another hour to eat a late dinner while each tier chilled in the freezer, setting the white icing you painstakingly leveled to their surface area. When you returned, it was time for the assembly, the second most dreaded process. “I’m scared,” you confessed, just about to push down the first dowel.

Egon got eye level with the top, squinting. “You’re just about perfect.”

Your nerves got the better of you. “How can you tell?” 

“I calculated.”

He was to keep calculating until all three cakes were secure on each other, bringing on the actually grueling part: decoration. You could design anything easily, after years of practice on your skills and ability to freehand- but a wedding cake was just so intimidating. That was part of the reason you vowed to never try again, how easy failure was staring you down in the form of little white fondant flowers. Egon let you take the reins on this, disappearing from your narrow field of vision. You honed in your knowledge of swirls, mini roses, and the drape style that was still in fashion among traditional couples. You were bent in all sorts of ways to make sure every bit of sugar that left the tip of the plastic bag came out perfect, for a perfect pair of newlyweds. Or newlyweds with perfect pocketbooks.

Time got away from you when the final detail was placed, and you stepped away like it was a bomb. “Is it done? Are we done?” you looked for confirmation. “How does it look?”

Egon’s torso stopped you from running off somewhere. “It looks perfect.”

The giant thing was stowed away to wait until you were scheduled to drop it off the next morning, and a weight was taken off your chest. You let the faucet run over materials, mind somewhere else with the rush of running water.

“It’s so sweet when it’s all done,” you spoke up, scrubbing crusted batter off of a tin, “weddings feel so magical.” 

You thought back to the agreement you made with your boyfriend of a handful of years: nix a big ceremony, celebrate with friends when the time felt right. The time always felt right to you; you’d drag him to the courthouse at the drop of a hat. Perhaps there was an even right-er time out there, written somewhere in your future.

Egon wiped down all the surfaces. “I agree.” he voiced from across the counter, taking a pause. “You’re not…angry with me? For taking as long as I am?”

You laughed at that, drying your hands. You crossed over to him, a hand on his chest. “Not at all. I trust you.” He had ditched the tie at some point after you had to make a new batch of icing. “If you’re offering…”

“Give me some more time to make it special.”

You brushed away some of his hair that had come loose in the heat of your scullery. “How much more time?” your voice was soft.

Egon thought about it for a moment. “What’s 5 more years?” He laughed heartily at the groan you let out, resting his head on yours.

“Really?” your voice broke over the phone. “I’m sorry…I’ve never- I don’t know,” you forced yourself to take a shallow breath, “I’ll work on getting your deposit back.”

You didn’t know what to think or feel when you ended the call, but thoughts of wasted hours, materials, lost profit, all flooded your mind as you attempted to calm yourself. You rested your head underneath where the phone was mounted on the wall, rubbing at your temples to sedate an oncoming headache.

“What happened?” Egon asked at your back, with you again in the early morning as he scored another day off. You didn’t turn to face him, trying your best to blink back embarrassing tears.

“She canceled. We made the cake for nothing- there’s no wedding, I-” 

Egon was on a knee, in the middle of your homely bakery. Your frustration evolved into pure confusion. “What’re you-”

There was a blue, velvet box in his hands with a glinting band inside of it. Before he could get a word out, you were on the floor too, tears free flowing. “You can’t do this now,” you clutched the fabric of his pants when he moved to hold you. “I look horrible.”

His free hand dried your tears, though more would keep on appearing in their wake. “I’m sorry this is so overdue.”

Your hands gently held onto his jaw to know this was real. “When was the right time?” 

“A long, long time ago. I just needed to find a way to make it special.” He looked hesitant before continuing, “I hope you don’t mind having made your own wedding cake.”

You blinked. “You’re the worst!” you joked exasperatedly, falling with him into a hug on the floors you were happy you mopped. “That was all you?”

“Why do you suppose her down payment was a multiple of 18?”

“They didn’t.” 

“Consider it a group gift, I suppose.” Egon smiled underneath you. You sat in the giddy silence of two people, soon to be wed, when he gingerly asked the question

“Will you?”

Your boyfriend- fiancé, went through so much trouble to make the moment one you could look back on happily. Who could refuse?

“I will.”

[agaypanic]

happy father’s day to all the fictional men i wanna make a father <3

[strangesthirdeye]

No one:

me: *watching Ghostbusters for the first time and laid eyes on Egon Spengler*

Also me: *new fictional character crush unlock*

[musicwhitemagic]

This is literally them.

[hippiegoth97]

Random Egon Spengler Thought #2

A/N: Okay, so this is technically a continuation of Egon Thought #1. I really like the dynamic I set up between Egon and reader, so here's their 'round two'! (This ended up running very long, oopsies 🤭)

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, swearing, fem!reader, no use of Y/N, age gap (reader is 20s, Egon is mid-thirties), established relationship, groping, heavy kissing, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, use of pet names, cum eating, rough sex, spanking, slight dom!Egon, a little bit of fluff (these two are in love love)

A Few Tags: @ghostsfungitwinkies @taire-the-disaster-gay @gr00vyashley @haroldramistwinkie @sunnyday-realestate-agent

"Darling...mm...I have to get out my keys," You say between feverish kisses. Egon currently has you pressed against the door to your apartment, boxing you in as he couldn't contain himself any longer.

The entire walk over here has been a special kind of torture. Knowing you aren't wearing anything but lingerie under your coat, that your brassiere is tucked away in your pocket, that he's already spilled his sticky release inside of you once, which is now surely dripping down your inner thighs. It certainly didn't help that you kept saying all manner of filthy things in his ear. It's a wonder he didn't have a massive erection for all passerby to see during this small, yet, challenging journey.

"Do you? With the way you were talking to me on the way over, I could just take you right here," Egon says darkly, nuzzling his face against your throat to suck a dark bruise onto your flesh. You absolutely love to rile him up like this, it brings out a hunger in him that takes all night to satiate.

"I don't think Mrs. Arden would appreciate that," you giggle, stifling a loud moan as he marks up your skin. Mrs. Arden happens to be quite the busybody in your building, always prodding around into everybody's business and reporting any 'suspicious' behavior she sees from her doorstep. Hell, she's most likely watching you both through her peephole across the hall right now.

"I wouldn't exactly be doing it for her benefit, now would I?" Egon asks with an amused chuckle, biting down on you a bit harder this time. He knows you're keeping your noises in, and that just won't do at all.

"Ah!" You cry out at the sting of his teeth, digging your nails into the back of his coat. "Fuck, Egon," you mutter through a laugh. "If you let me get the damn door open, I'll make all the noise you want once we're inside."

"Alright," he replies breathlessly as he pulls away, allowing you to turn around and unlock the door. He ushers you inside the second it opens, slamming it shut behind him and pinning you against the wall. Your purse and keys fall from your hands and clatter to the floor, your eyes gazing up into Egon's with surprise. You haven't even turned on any lights yet, leaving the two of you drenched in moonlight from the massive windows down your short hallway.

"I've really created a monster tonight, huh?" You tease, immensely turned on by the dark look in his pupils. His breath fans down at you, hot and heavy as he contemplates what to do to you first. His imagination runs wild with profane ideas, alongside the provocative suggestions you made on the way home.

"You could say that," he grins, leaning in to kiss you deeply. His lips meet yours, his tongue prodding out a moment after. You don't hesitate to let him in, to let him dominate your mouth with his own. You melt against him, helpless in his hold as he keeps your hands above your head. His free hand hastily unties your coat, the ends falling open easily. Your bare breasts meet his chest, the fabric of his own thick coat rubbing against your nipples, raising them into stiff buds.

"Egon," you moan as he takes your tit in his hand, massaging roughly. He peers down at you, eating up the needy whimpers you let out for him at this simple touch. Your vulgar words earlier have driven you just as insane as they did him. He can read it all over your face, how desperate you are.

"What would you like me to do first, darling?" Egon asks, dragging his hungry eyes along your form. "Shall I keep giving your breasts my attention?" He suggests, letting your hands go so he can take both swells of your chest in his grasp to emphasize his words. "Or should I venture somewhere lower, hm? Perhaps taste you with my tongue, lap at you like a dog until you're screaming my name?" He keeps going, all of his questions turning you on further.

"Or I could...how did you put it? 'Take you from behind, fuck you hard and fast, and spank you like the bad girl you are'?" He says, quoting you directly this time. Never in your life did you think Egon would ever repeat such a pornographic phrase, especially not in such a confident, bold manner. It seems your seduction in the firehouse earlier has turned a new leaf for him.

"Jesus Christ," you mutter. The way the words sound coming from him makes your cunt throb. All you can manage to do now is gape at him, your capacity for rational thought has gone out the window.

"Oh, come now," Egon tuts, smirking. "You had plenty to say just a few minutes ago. Surely with that vast, vulgar vocabulary of yours, you can manage some kind of response," he says teasingly, taking a page out of your own playbook.

"I know, I-I'm just-" you stammer.

"Caught off guard?" Egon finishes your sentence for you. "I should hope so, it was my intention." You truly have no idea how he's managed to completely flip the script on you tonight. Even with your usual teasing and filthy mouth, he's never gone this long playing the game with you. Egon can typically give a dirty (well, as dirty as someone so reserved like Egon can pull off) response or two back in your direction, but this is an entirely new side of him. And you've never found him more attractive than you do right now.

"Would it help if I chose for you? You seem to enjoy anything I do to please you. I certainly recall you begging for it on many occasions," Egon says, leaving you one small step away from melting into a puddle on the floor. At this point, you're his entirely, to use as he desires.

"Please," you beg, nodding your head and gazing into his eyes desperately. Your heart races in anticipation, your blood boiling in your veins with urgency. You need him now, to touch you, to fuck you, something.

"Very well," Egon says, capturing your lips with his once again. He presses you further into the wall, his erection poking into your stomach. He's surprised at himself, his head spinning with lust at his own actions. Even as a man of science, he can't explain it. You've flipped some deep-seated switch inside of him, unleashing a perverse version of himself, a carnal animal that craves every inch of you more than his next breath.

Egon continues to kiss you, devouring your mouth with his. He strips off his coat, as he's growing rather hot. It falls to a pile on the floor, and he pulls at your own coat to gain better access to your body. You clumsily help him take it off, still enamored by his lips and tongue. Grunts and moans leave you both, heavy breaths flooding the small space you share between starving kisses. Egon's large hands grab hold of your breasts again, squeezing them in tandem. It doesn't take long for his mouth to travel downwards, searing a path that brings him to his knees. He nips and sucks at your chest, placing his grip firmly on your waist to hold you still.

"Egon," you moan for him, your hands fidgeting at your sides. Everything he's doing feels so good, causing desire to pool in your belly. You watch him in the light in the moon, how the dim glow bounces off of his dark curls, and glints against the lenses of his glasses. Egon's tongue swirls around your left nipple, before he gently takes the bud between his teeth. "Fuck."

"Do you have any idea what you do to me, darling?" Egon asks with a groan, stopping for a moment to peer up at you. The look in his eyes makes you gasp, such ravenousness and devotion swirling together in those beautiful brown irises. In these few months that you have been together, you have become his everything. His world. His weakness. Egon wouldn't wish for anything else, except to show you the evidence of it every single day, for as long as he lives.

"Yes, Egon. I do," you say softly in understanding. You're right there with him in every respect, bound to him in mind, body, and soul. You reach down to cup his cheek, his eyes closing at the contact for a moment. You both stay still, taking everything in for this split second. When it has passed, Egon takes hold of your hand, pressing warm kisses to your palm and fingers. He lets you go shortly after, moving further down your body, his lips meeting your stomach.

You observe him with loving eyes as he grows closer to your pussy, though he initially bypasses it to kiss your thighs first. Egon's teeth come into play again, biting at your skin, inching nearer to your cum-soaked panties. He can smell your release and his own mixed within the fabric, which makes his already aching cock twitch. He finally reaches the innermost part of your thigh, licking a sticky, salty spot from the tender flesh. He groans at the taste, swallowing thickly.

"Tell me this is what you want," Egon murmurs as he presses one final kiss to your mound, waiting for permission to go any further.

"I want this, Egon. Please, use your mouth on me," you whine, wishing you sounded slightly less pathetic. Pleased with your answer, he brings his mouth to your clothed pussy, licking and sucking at you through the soiled fabric. "Oh, god," you moan at the warm friction, tangling your fingers in his hair. Egon swipes his tongue over your underwear in thoughtless motions, trying to get every last drop of cum out of them. Your moans spur him on, driving him to fully suck the lace into his mouth, wringing out all the musky juices trapped inside. He groans against you, swallowing up all he can until none is left.

Having no use for them now, Egon works at taking your panties off, while still flicking his tongue between your legs. Without pulling away, his deft fingers undo your garters, allowing him to slip your underwear down your thighs. He discards them, eager to have full access to you now. He dives in with no hesitation, making harsh circles on your clit.

"Fuck!" You cry out at the full contact of Egon's hot, wet mouth. He may not be the master of dirty talk, but he certainly knows how to give fantastic head. You were surprised at how quickly and easily he brought you to orgasm the first time he went down on you, every other man you've been with has been far less successful. But Egon knows how to listen, to your moans, your gasping breaths, any directions you give. He takes it all as pertinent data and proceeds in accordance with what he learns. This skill of his has made him very successful with the women he's been with over the years.

Finding the need to get even deeper between your legs, Egon lifts your right thigh, slinging it over his shoulder. He presses himself further into you, swiping his tongue through your folds in fervent strokes. The taste of you and him mixed together returns to his tongue, driving him to search for more. His tongue finds its way at your entrance, from which his release still oozes. Egon thrusts himself inside your throbbing hole, thoroughly cleaning you up as well as building your pleasure.

"Oh, Egon," you moan as he fucks you with his tongue, prodding at your g-spot repeatedly. Your hands tighten within his hair, keeping his face firmly planted against your cunt. Surely he's getting your arousal smeared all over mouth, nose, even his glasses, though he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, the mess you make drives him absolutely wild. It tells him how good he's making you feel, how much you're enjoying yourself. That's all that truly matters to him, any amount of mess can be cleaned up later.

"I'm getting close, darling, don't stop," you whimper helplessly as Egon devours you. It hasn't taken long at all, the fire roaring in your belly grows higher and higher with every thrust of his tongue and suckle of his lips. He's like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate him is you. You can hear the most pornographic noises coming from between your legs, needy groans and wet squelching. His mouth works furiously on you, feeling so damn good it almost hurts.

You can't help remembering all the filthy things you said to him on the way over, how his ears heated up more with every line of obscenity, the numerous times he cleared his throat (a reflex he uses quite often to avoid getting noticeably hard when you're around, especially in public), or loosened up his tie. Little did you know that by flustering him so badly, you were shoving him over the edge of self-control. Hence the feral beast currently kneeling before you in the entryway of your apartment, a creature doing his absolute damndest to get you off.

"Mm," Egon grunts as your hands give his hair a rough tug, a sign that you're about to come. His arms stay firmly wrapped around your thighs, holding you in place as you start to squirm. You're dangling over the precipice by a thin piece of string, and all it takes is a perfectly timed thrust of his tongue and press of his lips to cut you down.

"Egon!" You cry out as you fall into the pit of euphoria, throwing your head back, thighs clamping around Egon as they tremble. Sticky juices spill from you liberally, wetting his face and flowing down his throat. Your hips buck against him erratically, keeping him close as you ride out your orgasm. Egon keeps moving with you, wanting to savor every morsel of you that he can until you're spent. You eventually go still, slumping against the wall.

You're panting heavily, your eyes falling closed. Egon pulls away from your pussy, licking his lips hungrily. He sets your leg back down, standing upright to get a good look at you. Though you're both still cloaked in moonlight mixed with the dark interior of your apartment, he can make out the glistening perspiration on your skin, the ambrosial stench your pleasure leaves lingering in the air. And it nearly drives him to irreversible madness.

Before you can even fully register what's happening, Egon's lips are on yours again. You come around to his advance rather quickly though, meeting his tongue in the middle with your own. You can taste yourself in his saliva, which makes your mouth water. Egon suddenly lifts you up into his arms, prompting your legs to wrap around his waist. He carries you both toward the bedroom, shoving the door open and plunging you both onto the bed without breaking away from your lips even once.

"I need you now, darling," Egon huffs as he kneels over you, reaching for his belt to get it open. "Turn over," he orders, a desperate look in his eyes.

"Let me help you first," you reply, taking over the task of getting his belt open, as his own hands have been clumsily struggling with it. You do so with ease, unzipping his fly and pulling out his leaking cock.

"Fuck," he almost whimpers as you stroke him in your hand. He's been unbearably turned on from the moment you both left the firehouse. He can't take it anymore. Egon swats your hand away, turning you onto your stomach.

"Need me that bad, huh?" You ask with an amused giggle. His sudden roughness arouses you, leaving you eager to see what he does next.

"You have no fucking idea," Egon replies, his voice shaking. He pulls you up onto your knees, gazing down at your glistening cunt. So wet, warm, and waiting for him to come inside. He takes hold of his dick, bringing it to your entrance. Your breath catches in anticipation as he prods at you. With no more hesitation, Egon shoves every inch into you.

An obscenely loud moan is shared between you, clashing tones high and low ringing in the still air. Egon grabs hold of your hips and immediately starts thrusting, hard and fast, just like you wanted. After all your teasing, all your tempting, it's what he wants, too. More than he wants the sun to rise tomorrow.

"Oh, god!" You gasp, surprised at how rapidly and proficiently Egon hits your g-spot from this angle. Your hands ball the sheets in the grip to hang on tight, letting him use you any way he wants to.

You've longed for this, for him to truly take you and tear you apart from the inside out. You always knew he was capable of it, but his usual methods are on the gentler side. You don't mind this, of course, Egon is a wonderful lover no matter what. And he's done many things already to fulfill your (and his own) desires. But the untamed, animal side of him has largely been a mystery to you. Until now.

"Is this what you wanted?" Egon asks, his chest heaving as he rams himself into you over and over. He can feel you growing wetter with every stroke, slick noises joining the thick slapping of skin on skin. He gazes down at you, the already cock-drunk expression on your face, how tightly your hands grip the bedspread. Gorgeous, breathy moans leave your pretty lips as he fucks you, but no answer to his question is forthcoming. And he won't stand for that.

*Smack*

"Fuck!" You yelp as Egon's hand suddenly left your hip and swiftly came crashing down on your left ass cheek. A harsh sting spreads over your flesh, melting into a pleasurable buzz.

"Answer me," Egon commands, still thrusting with all his might. The deep red mark forming on your delicate flesh sends a thrill through him, hoping you'll let him spank you again.

"Yes, Doctor...this is what I wanted. Please, don't stop," you answer him, swallowing hard as you nod.

"Shall I spank you again?" He asks, his right hand itching to get a turn.

"Yes! I want it so bad, Egon," you whine, biting your lip as you wait to feel the sting of his calloused palm once again.

"Very well," he chuckles. You're a completely simpering mess for him, he can see that now. It makes him wonder how much harder you would beg if he denied you, what pathetic words would spill from your lips, what wanton promises you would make to him. Given how new this evening's current activities are for you both, he decides to table these contemplations until next time.

*Smack*

"Oh!" You gasp, marveling at how wonderful it feels to have the pleasure and the pain mixed together. It dizzies your head, leaving you wanting more of both.

"Would you like another?" Egon asks, surely you can take a little more. He's seen your endurance exceed his own on many occasions, this ought to be no different. Not to mention, it would bring him great pleasure to see the initial handprints he's left on you darken a shade or two.

"Yes," you nod weakly, turning your head back to look at him. He's in no better shape than you are in terms of composure. He's completely sweating through his clothes, all of which are still on, his hair disheveled, his glasses askew and coated in your juices. "Please," you add as you meet his lust-dunk eyes.

Egon doesn't say anything else, simply bringing his left hand back, before smacking it down hard on your ass. He uses a little more force this time, a grin spreading on his lips at the mewl you let out in response, and the way your pussy clenches around him at the sting. He evens out the other side shortly after, making you shudder as you cry out again. All while holding your stare captive.

"One more time?" He finally asks, thinking three times ought to be enough. For a first attempt, anyway. He'd hate to leave you too bruised, after all. The last thing he wants is to cause you more pain than you asked for.

"Y-Yes, yes. Feels so good...hurts so good," you pant, your words barely strung together. What you haven't been able to verbalize to him, is that the pain he supplies you with mellows into a nearly vibrating pleasure that radiates and travels all the way to your cunt, amplifying every slam of his cock inside of you. You'll make sure to tell him later on, he's always interested to know what his various touches do to you. It leads him to use said touches even better the next time. Ever the student, Egon Spengler is.

"I'm sure it does, darling. You know I always aim to please you," Egon says, adoration cutting through his amusement. He can't help it, even though he's fucking you senseless, and spanking you with moderate strength, his only real mission is to express how much he loves you. He gives you a warm smile, raising his left hand one final time.

*Smack*

"Fuck- yes," you nearly choke on the words, the sting even harsher than before, blazing a trail right between your legs. You're nearing your end once again, surely Egon's final blow will get you right to the edge.

"Shit," Egon groans as your insides squeeze him tighter, nearly making him lose control altogether. But he's not through with you yet. He swallows hard, keeping himself from coming just yet, continuing to thrust into you with every ounce of strength. He lays himself over you for a moment, his sweat-soaked shirt meeting your own slicked-over back. He leans to speak in your ear, encouraging you to hold out a little bit longer for him.

"Just one more, darling. You're doing so well for me," Egon says softly, though his breathing is still heavy and labored. He presses a tender kiss to your sticky neck, making your heart melt into a puddle of goo inside your chest. Even through all of this intensity, he still manages to be the sweetest man in the world.

"Yes...want it...please," you beg as best you can, nodding frantically.

"Good," Egon affirms, putting himself upright. It takes a second, as his pace has not yet faltered. He exhales harshly, raising his right hand to you to bring this new game to an end.

*Smack*

"Egon," you sob as the pain sends you throbbing around him, though still not quite achieving orgasm. You're unbearably close, clutching the covers so tight you could nearly bleed your palms.

"God, I'm so close," Egon murmurs, struggling to contain himself. His stomach threatens to tense on him, his body temperature ever-growing as his high begs to take hold. You're pulsating around him erratically, in a way you never have before without climaxing. He's a bit worried the prolonged sensation of it, as well as holding himself back, will cause his entire being to explode.

"I'm right there, Egon...don't stop, make me come. Fill me up, make me yours!" You're babbling again, begging and pleading for him to bring you over the edge like no other man know how. Tears well up in our eyes, threatening to spill over as your body yearns for release.

"Please, please..." you repeat that same word over and over, losing the meaning of it somewhere along the way. But you finally feel it, the unmistakable sensation that washes over just before you come.

Egon watches on wordlessly as you unravel before him, rambling on about how badly you want him to thrust you into sweet surrender, your eyes screwed shut as you concentrate on the feeling inside you, your knuckles turned white as you cling to the sheets. The fleeting thought passes over his mind, that he wishes he had a camera to capture the untamed beauty before him.

"Gonna-" you gasp, words catching in your throat. "Gonna come, gonna come, fuckfuckfuck-" A sound that's part moan and part scream leaves your lungs as you get your long-awaited orgasm. Your entire body trembles, your hands twisting the sheets even harder as you try to hang on. The ecstasy coursing through you is like no other you've experienced before, consuming you in blinding blue-white flame. Those built up tears roll down your cheeks in hot streaks, in total relief and awe.

"Fuck, darling," Egon groans as your pussy strangles his cock, sending his hips bucking against you outside of his control. His climax rolls over him, similar in intensity to your own. His toes curl inside his shoes, his hands gripping your hips tightly as you squeeze every last drop of his cum from him. He pants and grunts like a wild animal, savoring every final thrust as he fills you up.

It takes a while for Egon to finally come to a stop, getting lost in how powerful his orgasm was. When he does slow slow down, he pulls out of your spent cunt and collapses beside you on the bed. Your own body slumps forward, blissfully exhausted. Out of habit, Egon turns onto his side, pulling you into his embrace. He peppers your sweaty neck with kisses, slow and gentle, not intending to light any more fires tonight.

"I love you so much," Egon whispers in the dark, prompting you use all your leftover strength to roll over and face him.

"I love you too, Egon," you reply sweetly, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. There's no desire in either of you to ask if the other enjoyed tonight's activities. The evidence is quite clear on your skin and in your heads as it stands. All you have the energy to do now is get cleaned up, and crawl into bed. 'Copulation Contemplation', as you've loving coined your lengthy discussions with Egon about your sexual romps, can wait until tomorrow.

No more words are exchanged between you, as there's no need. You assist one another in removing whatever remains of your clothes, and washing up underneath the warm showerhead. Fluffy towels meet your naked skin, and then the comfortable sheets on your bed as you slip under the covers together. Egon spoons you in his arms after setting his glasses aside, keeping you close and safe in his arms. The two of you fall asleep shortly after, looking forward to starting a brand new day together.

[wifetomanyfictionalmen]

request if you are still doing them, Egon sees reader babysitting Oscar after coming back to the station from a bust and is absolutely in love with their parental energy. He thinks how good they would be looking after their own kids.

Oh

My

God

Yes

Baby Fever

You were walking around the firehouse gently bouncing Oscar on your hip. Dana had called in a favour as she’d had to stay late at the orchestra for the all night performance. Naturally, you agreed, you loved little Oscar, how he was always curious and really really happy to see you and Egon almost all of the time. You cooed at him and rubbed his back, he was refusing to settle and it was worrying you. You tried everything, his bottle, his pacifer, even singing. You weren’t the world’s worst, you could hold a melody atleast.

You’d lost track of time and the guys were already back from their night time busts. The most recent had taken it out of all of them, and they were all covered in ectoplasm. You sat on Egons bed and held Oscar close. It’s like he knew they were back, and not from the smell. His eyes were latched onto the bedroom door waiting for Egon. That’s when it cracked in your mind that Oscar had wanted to wait for Egon to get home. A small smile spread on your face “he’ll be here in a moment why don’t we settle down okay?” He seemed to be calmer and more at ease now, letting you lay down with him resting on your chest. Within a few seconds he was fast asleep and you yourself were close to falling asleep. The bedroom door opened and the four men stumbled in tired beyond belief.

Egon smiled gently seeing you and Oscar on his bed, but something inside him switched when he realized how close you and Oscar were. You were always so motherly to him, you were always so sweet and kind, it made him want children of his own with you. Egon tries telling himself children would just hinder the ghostbusters, or they’d grow up without a dad, but every time he saw you with Oscar in your arms, it made his heart swell and beat a little faster. He sighed and took his glasses off putting them on his bedside before getting into bed with you and Oscar. You shifted in your sleep and held Oscar close as Egon snuggled up to you, his heart beating faster. He was never good with emotion, his parents rarely gave him any attention.

But every little kiss or nuzzle from you made his heart swell. His mind drifted to his bedside table where he was keeping the ring. Maybe in the future you two would marry, you’d have children of your own, hell you could maybe become a ghostbuster like him, then you could alternate between looking after your children. Egon smiled sleepily and kissed your forehead before he fell asleep.

Peter and Ray looked at each other and Peter smirked “someone has baby fever”

[redfivesbiggestfan]

MAMA A RAY BEHIND YOU 💜

[spenglersweetheart]

I’m not sure if your requests are open or not but I was wondering if I could get a Egon X reader who is smart (not really smart) but smart and one day he’s rambling about fungi and he gets a fact incorrect and reader corrects him and he’s just like

🧍🏻

I love it when you talk science

Idk it popped into my head seems the sorta thing he’d do

i am taking requests! you're my first request and oh my god i love it sm. i'm sorry if the fungi talk is a little minimal or even a bit basic, as i do not know much about it but i am researching a bit, just for you! :) hope you enjoy it!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

Penicillium, Not Penicillin

Egon Spengler x Reader

WARNINGS : none!

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

IT WAS NORMAL FOR EGON TO TALK ABOUT his love for fungi. In fact, you loved when he talked about it very much. You learned a lot from the talks that you two have. Sometimes, you even take notes because the things he spills out are so interesting. So when you were at the Firehouse, you were settled in your usual spot in the lab, hearing him talk about another fungus. The famous one most people know. The one that people mixed up.

You're looking back at your notes and you notice something, mainly because you were absent mindedly listening. Maybe it was indeed a mixup, but, when Egon was talking again, you immediately noticed it.

"A lot of people know that penicillin can spread through mostly food, but it can also be found on different fabrics, too," Egon explained.

"Penicillium ..." you mutter, fixing your notes that you have just written down.

Egon turns around from the current activity that he's multitasking on. You look up at him. If you hadn't been so close to him, you wouldn't have noticed the slightly widened eyes that he currently wore behind his glasses.

"Sorry?"

"Penicillium," you repeat, "Not penicillin. Penicillin is the antibiotic that comes from the fungi that I assume that you're talking about. Penicillium is the actual fungi that you're referring to. It's a common misconception. One that I am surprised that you have mixed up."

"Had I? Well, I didn't even notice," Egon told you.

"I know, because you were so invested in it," you say back, "Also, Penicillium can grow in any material that is water - damaged, so if you guys don't clean up after yourselves if you spill things on the floors or anything else that we have that wooden, we will have a penicillium problem. And that may even be more of a problem than New York's ghost problem."

You look back up, waiting for a response from the other scientist. But, he looks at you, seemingly flabbergasted that you even corrected him in the first place.

"Egon?" You ask. You almost get worried, "Earth to Egon ... What are you thinking about in that huge brain of yours?"

He eventually breaks from whatever reality that he's in. You wait for a response. You almost stand up to walk over to him, but you don't, since you see that small little smirk that appears on his face.

"I love it when you talk science," he says to you.

A smile crept up on your face as soon as he said that to you. "I can talk more science," you say. "That is, if you want me to."

Egon then sits down right across from you. You can tell that he's definitely invested in what you have to say now.

"Gladly," he answers.

[multifandomfanficss]

Never Listen To Venkman

Egon Spengler x Reader

(With platonic!Peter Venkman)

Prompt: When you and Peter are left alone to experiment with a suspicious, blue, viscous slime, things go south and Egon comes home to you having a paranormal induced panic attack.

Warnings: panic attacks, autistic meltdowns, sensory issues, detailed descriptions of sensory issues, feeling uncomfortable in one’s own skin.

A/N: Back in my Ghostbusters era. It is contractually obligated that I must re-obsess every time a new movie comes out. I’ve loved Egon since I was a little kid. I can’t believe I’ve never written for him. The italics are flashbacks. This is crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

The reader is intended to be autistic, but can be read any way you’d like. Anyone is allowed to relate and see themselves in the reader wether they’re autistic or not!

You were sitting at your desk with in your small shared lab with Egon in the firehouse when you heard footsteps. You thought you had been home alone until Peter walked in.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going on a double date with Winston while Ray and Egon were at the movie.” You questioned him, putting down your pen. You had been taking notes on a new kind of slime the boys had found. It was different from the other slime they’d found last month when Vigo was trying to take over. While Vigo’s slime was pink in color, this slime was blue and had a more viscous consistency.

“Oscar had a fever, so Dana and I decided to cancel. She thinks he’s getting his first tooth.” Peter smiles. Despite the jokes he’s made and the amount of times he’s said he was nowhere near ready to be a father, he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t happy being back with Dana again and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love Oscar just as much as he loved her.

“Did Winston still go?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. He’s probably back in her apartment with the bed rocking as we speak. No way he’s coming home tonight.” Peter laughed at his own joke as you cringe.

“You’re disgusting.” You roll your eyes.

“What are you up to tonight? Got a hot date with a slime? Not too different from your usual dating life.” He chuckles.

“You’re such a dick, Venkman. I figured while everybody was out tonight I’d try to find out SOMETHING about this new slime. Egon and I have been studying it for two days and we have literally nothing.” You gesture to the blue goo on your desk.

“Do you need help?” He asks.

“Are you offering to help me on your night off?” You ask, shocked.

“I’ve got nothing better to do.” Peter shrugs.

“Are you gonna take it seriously?” You hesitate.

“I’m always serious!” Peter bluffs. Peter was never serious. Egon was always serious. His bluntness and black and white thinking had always been a comfort to you. He wasn’t some puzzle you had to figure out. He just was. Being with him wasn’t a guessing game the same way it was with Peter.

“Somehow that’s hard to believe, but I could really use your expertise in parapsychology, so I’ll say yes.” You sigh. You know this probably isn’t the best idea, but Peter knows more about this topic than you do. You’d be stupid to reject his help.

“If you’ll be the subject, I’ll run the experiment.” He says, taking out the helmet with wires.

“Okay.” You agree. Once the helmet is on you should be connected to a series of machines able to read the energy of your emotions, as well as the slime itself, giving you a more direct connection without touching. Peter starts asking you a series of questions, trying to draw different emotional responses.

“Think of a time when you were happy, really happy.” He prompts. Your mind, wandered around the room, trying to think of something, when your eyes landed on Egon’s book sitting on his desk.

It made you think of the first time you realized you had deep feelings for him. While you’d always thought he was attractive, you realized your feelings were deeper than you thought, far beyond a harmless little crush, one day when he let you borrow his book. As you read his notes in the margins you were able to analyze things like him, see the world through his eyes. You saw how his brain connected and processed things. You always liked the person he’d shown you, but writing in the margins is different. When you take notes in a book, you’re not putting on a mask for people to see. Notes in the margins are just for you. There’re your unfiltered thoughts. Seeing who Egon was when nobody was watching was different. He was funny, smart, deep, curious, not as confident as he pretended to be; he didn’t censor himself in his books. He wasn’t quiet in his books. Reading his margins felt intimate.

“You’re thinking about Spengler, aren’t you?” Venkman teases.

“Why would you say that?” You look at him, embarrassed.

“Because you’re in loooooove!” Peter mocks.

“Can we change the subject?” You practically beg.

“Think of a moment where you were uncomfortable.” Peter prompts.

“This conversation.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“No, really. I wanna see how it reacts to discomfort.”

“Fine.” You sigh. You think back to one of your many lab accidents. Working in a lab with sensory issues is never easy and that was something you and Egon both struggled with.

You think back to the day when you superglued your fingers shut by accident. You got them apart, but you couldn’t get the the residue off. You started to hyperventilate, on the verge of tears. You wanted to hit your hands on things, but you knew that wouldn’t help. You couldn’t peel off the glue without peeling off your skin.

“What’s wrong?” Egon looked at you puzzled, and a bit worried.

“Superglue! I- I- I can’t get it off!” You shake your hands, violently, your whole body is tensed up.

Egon quickly takes a bottle out from his desk drawer and runs over to you. He grabs your hands.

“Look at me, (Y/N). It’s okay. I’ll take off all the residue.” He promises, giving you a soft smile. Despite not liking seeing you in such discomfort, he forces the smile to help calm you down. He begins to massage the liquid from the bottle onto your fingers with a rag.

“See, it’s okay. It’s coming off.” He continues to speak softly, calming you.

“What is that stuff?” You ask.

“I wish I could say it’s some sort of fancy, scientific, protective disinfectant, but as it so happens it’s only nail polish remover.” You both chuckle quietly. “Janine gave it to me the last time I got superglue on something and couldn’t get it off.” He smiles down at your hands, still focused on getting the last little bit off.

“This slime is so different from the mood slime. I thought I saw it let go of a bubble, but it’s mostly doing nothing. I think it might be dead. I think it might be time to bury it in the backyard.” Peter begins to fake sob.

“Knock it off.” You laugh. “What backyard? This is Manhattan!”

“You should try touching it.” Peter suggests.

“Egon, said I should under no circumstances touch it directly, especially while he’s not here.” You inform him.

“Well Egon, is being overprotective. Nothing bad happened when everyone else touched the pink slime and I accidentally ate green slime once.” Venkman says.

“What do you mean accidentally?” You ask.

“It was our first mission. Slimer ran through me. It was a whole thing. I think you should touch it… You might be able to figure out what it is before Spengler gets back…” He tries to change your mind.

“You’re sure there were no serious side effects from touching the other slimes?” You ask, hesitantly. Egon would be annoyed if he found out you went against his pleas to keep your hands away from the plasma, but you wanted to impress him.

“Nothing serious. I grew an extra pinky, but they cut it off.” He jokes.

“Haha, very funny, Venkman.” You roll your eyes.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking a deep breath before plunging your hand into the blue viscous goo. “Oh…This is literally fine.” You feel no effect, but when your heart rate picks up you realize you spoke too soon. You fall onto the floor, knocking over the slime. You feel like your heart is racing, like it could beat out of your chest and you can’t suck enough air into your lungs. You’re terrified.

“(Y/N)!” Peter yells, rushing to the floor to help you. He tries to touch the the hand not covered in blue slime, but you push him away, sobbing. You don’t want him anywhere near you. You’re slipping away from reality into a deep state of panic and paranoia.

“Please! No!” You sob. It’s the only thing you can manage to get out. You barley recognize Peter anymore. He doesn’t feel like a friend. He feels like a threat.

“Honestly, the movie was quite terrible. Ray stopped for a 99 cent pizza on the corner. What did you- (Y/N)?!” Egon speaks as he enters the room, cutting himself off when he notices you’re in distress.

“Pete, what happened?!” Egon questions once he sees Venkman.

“We were doing an experiment and they touched the goo and they just started freaking out. They won’t let me near them.” Peter tells him, obviously shaken. You hear the two men, but you don’t process them. It’s like you’re underwater.

“This is different from their usual sensory issues. I think they’re having a panic attack.” Egon kneels in front of you. “(Y/N), you’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the firehouse. I’m here.” He tells you slowly.

“I- I can’t breathe!” You gasp for air.

“Your lungs are expanding and contracting at a rate too fast for your body to intake oxygen. I need you to try to breathe slow and deep with me. In…and out. Nice and slow.” He prompts. “Peter, I need latex gloves and towels.” Venkman could have made multiple jokes about Egon’s command, but looking at you this way made him uneasy. It wasn’t the right time. After being handed the gloves, Egon slipped them on and got to work cleaning off your slime covered arm. You begin to sob, overwhelmed by the feeling of the slime, the latex gloves, and the towel. It was difficult to handle on top of your panic attack. “Peter, we need to get them into the decontamination shower.”

“No!” You gasp between sobs.

“Come, on. I’ll go with you. We can get all the plasma off of you.” Egon speaks softly, but with a gentle urgency, as he tries to coax you to the shower. You shake your head no. “Are you against touch right now?” He asks.

“They did not like when I touched them.” Venkman warns.

“Only you-“ You break out in a sob. It doesn’t even cross your mind that you may be offending Peter by only wanting Egon. Luckily he’s not offended. Egon begins to take off his glove to provide skin to skin contact on the arm not drenched in slime in an effort to comfort you.

“Aren’t you worried about getting that stuff on you?” Venkman questions, worried Egon will shutdown like you.

“I’m getting in the decontamination shower anyway.” Egon shrugs, turning to you. He takes your hand in his, softly rubbing the top with his thumb.

“But- but your clothes will get all wet!” You sob. You knew Egon had his own sensory issues. You’d often have to help him when his long sleeves would get wet during experiments. It would drive him crazy. He avoided puddles like the plague and always had an umbrella nearby.

“Try not to worry about me right now. I just want you to focus on your breathing. I can always change my clothes.” He smiles. While it hurts him to see you so distressed, he was happy to know you cared about his comfort. “Let’s go shower. You can’t leave all that slime on you. I believe it’s worsening your mental state.” You nod, still crying.

“I’ll get them under the shower, I’ll need you to turn it on. Make sure not to touch the slime. I got a minuscule amount on my finger and it’s making me rather anxious. I can only imagine what this amount is doing to them.” Egon tells Peter. He helps you to stand, walking your trembling form over to the shower. “There we go. Just a few more steps. You’re doing wonderfully, (Y/N).” Egon softly attempts to comfort you.

Once you’re under the shower head, Venkman turns it on. Both you and Egon jolt at the sudden water pressure. He tightens both his jaw and his grip on you, holding his eyes shut tight. He can’t stand the feeling of his wet clothes against his body, but he’s brave for you. Once adjusted to the water, Egon begins to wash the slime off your body with care. Peter leaves to go upstairs and get you some towels. You feel the panic and paranoia start to leave your body. Despite still being incredibly anxious, you were starting to phase out of your slime induced panic attack. You lean against Egon, struggling to hold your own body weight. Maybe you’ll be more embarrassed tomorrow, but right now you just needed to be held. You were craving pressure on your body. You felt as if you would float off the ground if you weren’t held down. Egon wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer. He places a kiss on your forehead before placing his chin on top of your head. You snuggled into his chest, finding his pulse. You didn’t have the time or the bandwidth in your brain to think about what the kiss meant. You just wanted to be close to him.

“You’re okay, (Y/N). You’re safe.” Egon tells you. You’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his. It’s for both, really.

You’re quiet for most of the night, unable to bring yourself to speak. Egon doesn’t mind. He thinks a verbal shutdown is more than understandable after the night you’ve had. After the shower, you follow Egon around the fire station. You don’t want to be alone right now. He doesn’t mind. He puts out some of his clothes for you to wear; pajama pants and one of his soft sweaters. He goes to leave the room for you to change, but you stop him.

“Can- can we just like? Turn around?” You ask. “I’m sorry. If you’re uncomfortable, that’s okay. I just really don’t wanna be alone right now.” You voice is hoarse from crying.

“Of course.” He smiles, turning around.

“I’m decent.” He informs you after a minute of rustling.

“Me too.” You tell him and you both turn around.

“I’m sorry.” You tell him, near tears again. You feel awful for how tonight went. This was supposed to be the boys’ day off. Egon gives you a sad look.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were just trying to help. Venkman told me he put you up to it anyway.” Egon sighs.

“I probably shouldn’t have listened to him.” You let out a sad chuckle, one tear slipping past you, down your cheek. You wipe it quickly.

“Never listen to Venkman.” Egon gives a sad laugh.

“At least we figured out what the slime does… Egon, can I ask you a question?” You hesitate.

“Well, you just did, but yes.” He smiles, joking to lighten the mood. You smile at him.

“Why did you do all that? You took off your gloves, putting yourself at risk and then you put yourself through sensory hell just to get me cleaned up.” You question him.

“Isn’t it obvious? (Y/N), I care about you.” You look at him, thinking about the tone in his words. You can’t quite decipher it, but there’s something else there. Is it possible he could feel the same way about you that you feel about him? “You should get some sleep.” He interrupts your thoughts. “If you’d rather not be alone, you may sleep in my room tonight. I would find it beneficial to monitor you overnight to watch for long lasting effects, anyway.” He adds.

“Only if that’s okay with you.” You hesitate.

“Of course it’s okay with me. I just suggested it.” He smiles.

Once you’re settled into bed, Egon turns off the lights and climbs in next to you.

“Egon, I’m still anxious.” You blurt out into the dark.

“Do you need pressure?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say, hoping he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he scoops you into his arms. You cuddle into his chest, surrounded by him, surrounded by safety. You know this should be weird, but it doesn’t feel weird. As Egon kisses the top of your forehead again, bidding you goodnight, you wonder what this all means. You wonder what you are to each other. You feel you’ve crossed the line as friends, but you’re too tired and too awkward and too anxious to talk about labels. You and Egon never quite fit into boxes as people anyway. Your relationship didn’t need to either. Whatever this was between you was comforting. It was safe and it was going to help you sleep tonight.

[tuliptired]

hi! can i request a egan x complete opposite reader? like someone so different like a model or actress of some sort

Uptown Girl

Pairings: Egon Spengler/Fem!Actress!Reader

sorry for looking at stantzler yaoi while this was sitting in my drafts

Better formatting on Ao3!

Peter could tell something was up with his friend. Something different from the norm. In the past handful of weeks, Egon’s turned into a fidgety, flighty mess. Misprinting calculations, misplacing tools- all in blue. He was wearing so much more blue. The reticent man never really had a favorite color, something Peter relearned everytime he probed him when bored, but this was just way too out of character. Egon? Color coordinating? Insanity.

He had a discarded newspaper open at his excuse for an office, spacing out while Ray messed around with Janine’s little TV, Winston holding a flashlight over it for him. She had won it when she was small, the faulty wiring spilling out the back panel a testament to its age. 

Janine sat up impatiently, folding her magazine. “It’s almost time Ray, is it working?” 

Ray dropped his pair of pliers. “It should be,” he said unconfidently, screwing the paneling back on as Winston adjusted the antenna. The machine crackled and popped, sounds and images cutting in and out as it gained and lost a signal.

The subject of Peter’s suspicions came down the stairs flinching at the noise, looking to pass and leave the firehouse but too intrigued by the feat of electrical engineering happening at Janine’s desk. “What’s this?” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed at the barely there sight of a shiny, new silver watch. Christ, were those blue diamonds? Everyone who’s regularly stepped foot into the firehouse has tried and failed at attempting to get Egon to upgrade his wristwear, the old brown thing that barely had an audible tick. Peter’s own seasonal gifts for him got fancier and fancier as the years went on, Egon turning down a Timex with an alarm at one point. He insisted that anything he could go out and buy would serve the same purpose as the beatdown leather already owned- regardless of needing to squint to see the arms.  

She opened her magazine back up again, fluttering through glossed pages until she found the right one. “You’ve heard of that one show, right?” Janine held up an advertisement for the program, promoting big guests like Madonna or Robin Williams. “I’ve been trying to catch the reruns-”

“And I’ve been trying to tell her that it ruins the integrity of the show.”

“If I wasn’t locked up in here every Saturday night, I wouldn’t have to. Don’t put down the receiver, Winston.”

Ray watched with his fist under his chin as the signal got closer and closer to whatever channel he had twisted the knob for. Janine sat up straighter, flipping to a different page. “Anyway, there’s a new actress on there, and I don’t wanna miss her.”

Winston leaned over to check if the screen was any clearer. “My sister showed me an article on her. Very fashionable.” 

“I know, her picture was on billboard on 46th,” Janine raved, “you’d like her, Peter.”

He shook his head, licking his pointer finger to get to a different section of the paper. “I’m more into musicians.”

Egon spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re mistaken, Peter. She’s an incredibly talented actress with an incredible repertoire.”

Looks were exchanged between all of them. If the elephant in the room was offended, he didn’t show it. “What?”

“Nothing,” Ray shrugged, “it’s just…she’s so..”

“Outgoing.”

“Witty.”

“Expressive.”

“And you’re you! Nothing wrong with it,” Ray patted his taller friend’s shoulder.

Egon looked at his colleagues blankly. “I can still enjoy her work, despite certain character differences.”

The TV finally got a stable connection, though not celebrated by anyone in the room as Egon’s anomaly took up all their attention. “I thought you didn’t have a television?” Winston questioned, moving the antenna again and losing the stream.

“I don’t.”

Peter raised an incredulous eyebrow to him from across the room. Something like a realization flashed behind Egon’s eyes, before he turned his eyes from their gaze and cleared his throat. “I’m going home early tonight. Call me if you need anything.”

That certainly didn’t do anything to soothe Peter’s speculation. Egon barely ever went home. If anything, the only reason he had an apartment to his name was because it was expected of him after graduating his last year of university. Even so, he was barely ever there, spending his nights slumped over in a lab- Columbia’s or otherwise. Peter would be surprised if the man was still paying rent.

Ray and Winston must’ve been carrying the same sentiment. “We’ll still be seeing you tomorrow, right Eges?”

 The man stood stiffly, as if under a spotlight. “Hopefully.” He was motionless, before grabbing Janine’s TV and scurrying out the door.

“Hey!”

Strange indeed.

Egon walked briskly under the fluorescent lighting of the hallway. It was almost 7, after all. A warm brown bag of Chinese food sat under his arm as he got closer to the rickety door. He hesitated to turn the key, hearing staticky music on the other side. When he did, there you were, surrounded by brown bags just like his and messing with the antiquated radio by his stovetop. It felt odd, and strangely smug, to have you in his tiny and bland apartment after his friends praised your stardom.

Your manicured fingers turned the volume down. “Sorry! It’s hard to entertain myself here when you don’t have a TV.” The same woman that was all over Times Square was here, in his kitchen, placing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I do now,” he juggled the boxy appliance before you took it from him gently.

“Where’d you get this? It’s adorable,” you smiled, inspecting it. He peered into the bags cluttering his limited counter space as he put down your dinner, some holding groceries and some with wrapped packages.

“A friend. What’re these?” Egon didn’t have to turn to you to see the guilty expression you had while he pulled out containers of takeout. You had a bad habit of buying him luxuries he never thought he would need.

You grabbed a few things from one of the sacks, opening his outdated fridge. “I know we agreed to you bringing dinner, but it’s just a few things for when you’re on your own.” He wrinkled his nose.

“I have food.”

Egon watched you teeter your palm back and forth, grabbing another bag and opening one of his cabinets. “What’s the point of eating-out if you never eat-in?” 

“You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble.”

He felt nice as you smiled at him, folding the discarded paper and tossing it in the bin. “You know I don’t mind.” It would’ve been a sweet moment, if there wasn’t another bag on the counter that caught his attention, which you scrambled to pull away. Before you could, he brought it to his lap, gazing down inside.

He pulled out different wrapped packages, labels from one of the most expensive department stores in the area. “Y/N.”

You put your hands up in defense, lowering yourself into the stool across from him.  “I know, I know. But, look!” You leaned over, showcasing one. “New curtains! And there’s a watch in there, somew-here.”

Egon’s eyes nearly popped out when he found a little box, forgotten at the bottom, with a price tag higher than what two ghostbusters made in a week. “You have to return this,” he decided, hardly opening it before snapping it shut.

“You don’t like it?”

“I do. I appreciate you getting it. But you can’t keep spending your money on me.”

You knelt on your hand, disappointment clearly subsiding as you used the other one to open up the food. “It doesn’t make a difference to me. I was in that area, anyway.”

He passed you a plastic fork. “How come?”

“I had an appointment with my dress guy,” you started. He’d be embarrassed to admit it, but it took him an abnormally long time to realize that you were referring to the people you regularly bought things from, rather than lightly suggesting a polyamorous relationship. “And he showed me the finished product for Friday! Isn’t it exciting?”

You produced a print from your purse, handing it to him with a bright smile. It was a dress on a mannequin- very bold, very you, and very blue. “It is.” Egon grinned sincerely, admiring the idea. “Very beautiful.”

You stabbed your fork into a vegetable, seemingly forlorn as he put the photo aside. “It’s a shame you’ll only get to see it on TV. Unless, you wanna be my date,” you perked.

Egon could feel himself frown. In any other world, he would be at your side every hour of every day- every interview, airing, or red carpet appearance. But he was still Egon, through and through. So you compromised on “waiting until the right time” to make your relationship public.

“Not this time,” he avoided looking at you. You were understanding, you always were, but he could imagine how irritating a constant no could be.

He jumped as your head hit the countertop. “You’ll let everyone know at the wedding,” you groaned. Egon moved to console you, worried about having hurt your feelings, before your head snapped back up.

“Kidding.” He let out a sigh he couldn’t recall holding in. “You wanna be there when I get ready? You could help me with the zipper,” you leaned forward, voice teasing him. He couldn’t refuse.

“Of course,” Egon smiled, before it fell. “I’m sorry. That I keep telling you no.”

You shrugged, waving him off. How undeserving he was, to be loved by someone so forgiving. “I know. You’re an interesting guy, Egon. It’ll happen when it happens.” You had his hand in yours, brushing his knuckles as you looked on at each other earnestly.

Something caught your attention, breaking eye contact, Egon shrinking at the loss of connection. You turned in your seat to the rest of the apartment. “I never told you! I noticed you started decorating!”

It was a small place, only one bedroom and older than most people Egon’s age would be proud of. When he first moved in, the only things he took the liberty of situating were: a bed, a chair, various papers and books and scientific projects. It was more a storage space, rather than one to live in. He dawned on this the first time you offered to have him over, realizing that he’d have to return the favor- after picking up a bit. It’s not much right now, save for more furniture and ambience, but there was always something new whenever you visited. “After you told me it had the feng shui of an asylum.”

“Then we both have something to work on.”

“What was this doing in the mail this morning?” Peter bounded the steps to the second tier of the firehouse. Ray and Winston were trying their best to pick up around the kitchen, while Egon was hunched over his workbench, jittery and unorganized. Whatever he was keeping from them, it did a good job at keeping him from work. This would’ve been a nice change for the doctor, if it didn’t mean Peter had to be alert for any sudden fires.

He passed the booklet to Winston, whose eyes widened like a cartoon as the centerfold unfurled into two more pages. “Holy…”

“Maybe it’s Janine’s?” Ray proposed, cheeks pink as he clumsily folded them back up.

Her voice called up from downstairs, before the front door slammed shut. “I don’t read that brand, and if I did I wouldn’t be working here.”

That left the three men, standing in tense silence. Not Peter, he was tasteful with his filth- tucked away in the hidden part of his filing cabinet. 

“Why would one of us order something like this in the mail?”

Peter gently took it from Winston. “Alright, no need to embarrass anyone. My mail is your mail is your mail is my mail.”’ He jumped to a random page, settling into the couch. “We’re all friends here.”

Ray and Winston hesitantly crowded around him, unabashedly eager to view what was inside. Egon, however, was frozen at his desk, lab coat halfway off.

“Donna Rice stuns in a poolside photo…Madonna looks nice here…” The professor was a second away from crumpling. Schadenfreude.

Ray shrugged one of his shoulders, leaning over the armrest. “Some of these aren’t so bad,” he admitted. 

Peter let out a low whistle. “Here’s the girl you like so much, Spengs. Orange dress.” Egon rose then, a bit less catatonic as he shrugged his lab coat off, back to his friends.

“She wouldn’t wear orange this season. Or any season. It doesn’t pair well with anything and it washes her out.”

Peter blinked. Not the angle he was looking for, but a good psychologist never quits when they’re ahead. “Did she tell you this?”

Egon visibly hardened, turning to face them. “No. In a 1986 interview with People, in the second paragraph of the 12th page, she said she’d never wear anything long and orange at the same time.”

Peter slowly revealed the page to him, speaking even slower. “Sorry, superfan. She was wearing green.”

The professor only stared, before clearing his throat and fixing his clothes a bit, Ray and Winston silent at Peter’s side as he rolled up the print. “I’m leaving for the night. And I’m taking the car.”

He was halfway out the room before Ray stuttered, taken aback. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you drive, Spengs.”

“And you can’t take the car.” Peter chided

Egon stilled on the staircase. “I have the keys. And there aren’t any jobs in the morning- you can do without it. Goodnight.”

Peter tapped the shiny paper against his palm a few times, turning to the men at his side. “He’s either selling drugs, or he’s trying to ditch us."

Sure, Egon wasn’t much of a driver. But he’d make the commute if he wanted to see you. Eventually, streets lined with skyscrapers and taxis melted into roads lined with starlight and trees as he carefully recalled the directions to your house just outside the city, surrounded by woodlands. He knew you'd wouldn’t be back until late in the night, so he was content busying himself with your chores until the sounds of a Mustang screeching to a halt in your driveway peeled him away from the last dish in the sink.

Egon carefully peeked out one of your windows, watching as you jumped out the backseat of the hastily parked car. “I probably just left a light on! One sec!” Your door handle jiggled with the turn of keys, before you poked your head in, voice low.

“Wanna say hi?”

He politely declined, and you were halfway out the door again, waving goodbye to your friends, before they skidded off into the night. Your home was a stark contrast to his own, decorated and personable without becoming clumsy. But, many a night you’d crooned to him over the phone about how empty it can get. So, there he was.

“You didn’t have to come all this way,” Egon felt you mummer against his back, arms wrapped around his middle while he finished wiping down the edge of the sink, light fragrance mingling with the smell of dish soap. You always smelt good, after a night out.

“I wanted to. Did you have fun?” he inquired, hearing you hum as you peeled yourself from him, lurking towards the stairs.

“As much,” Egon bent behind you to collect your discarded shoes, “as I could have.”

He caught the earrings you pinched off from your earlobes. ‘They didn’t show you a good time?”

You paused in front of your bedroom door, waiting for Egon to open it, which he did. “It was a great time- I love premieres.” You lowered yourself onto the large mattress, calling out to him as he went into the master bathroom to start a bath. “But, I think you know very well why I wanted to come home.”

“I wonder,” he mused chaffingly, sitting behind you on the bed. His favorite night time routine, whenever he was around after you successfully painted the town red. The events and invitations just got bigger and bigger, increasingly extravagant the longer he knew you. Here he was, getting farther and farther over the hill. In spite of it all, he liked taking care of you, especially when you were wearied from an evening of fun.

You leaned forward as he gently unclasped the jewelry from around your neck, careful not to bust the fastener. “I’m happy you’re here now, Egon.” he heard you coo tiredly and softly. Egon pressed a devoted kiss to the nape of your neck where the metal had lay, drawing out a delighted laugh from underneath him.

“Then I’m glad I came.”

Both of you just sat there, warmth against warmth until Egon remembered that your faucet was still running. He took to unzipping the back of your gown. “Is it safe to assume my friends are becoming suspicious of me?”

“Oh yeah? What’re they doing?” you pondered, helping him as you stepped out of the pooling fabric.

“Pictures of you. Peter got a hold of one of your spreads.” Egon mulled. He carefully collected the material, laying it out on a chair in front of your expansive closet. He really appreciated those photographers, any other time. Particularly, when you weren’t available for so long.

Another thing he enjoyed about nights like these- you in your underclothing. Oh, guilty pleasures. But the sight vanished into the bathroom almost as soon as he took it in. “Did you tell them I was your outgoing, witty and expressive girlfriend?” 

Egon couldn’t help but follow you. “They seemed to have come to that conclusion on their own.” Egon stood against your sink while you sunk into the water- he knew you were pretty clean, but a washroom floor was still a washroom floor.

“I’m sure you have them fooled.” you guessed, leaning on the edge of the tub.

“I think so. But-” he noticed the look you were giving him. “You’re being sarcastic.”

He let you laugh at his expense, handing you various soaps from the caddy above. He’d been meaning to get a similar bottle to keep at his place, if you were ever willing to spend the night. What would your people say- if you didn’t come around when they were expecting you to? “And you? What do your friends think?” Egon queried. 

“They’ve been onto me. And they tell me: ‘bring him around sometime- one night can’t hurt,’” you teased. “There’s a blue suit to go with my dress waiting for you, if you really want.”

Egon felt so defenseless as you gazed up at him, extending the same invitation you’d been extending time and time again. Reservations be damned. The greatest person he knew was letting him spend a night in their arms- and he’d be anything but himself if he let the opportunity slip away again.

“I’ll go.”

“What?”

“On Friday. I’ll go with you. If you’ll have me.”

You beamed, sitting up and leaning impossibly close to him as he let himself kneel against the porcelain. “Oh, Egon! I could kiss you!” Your wet skin dripped onto the dainty rim.

“Why not?” he teased. Before the question could leave his lips, you had the end of his tie in your hand, nearly dragging him into the bath with you.

He could barf. Absolutely lose his cool in the back of this expensive car, or in front of all your famous friends. As happy as Egon was to experience a slice of your life with you, his nerves were on fire. He must’ve seriously underestimated the turnout of this thing- reality settling in as a number of stylists flooded your house as the evening approached. He felt the embrace of your hands on his jaw, as you made him look at you.

“You don’t have to talk to anyone, if you don’t want to. Just keep holding my hand.” You were glowing. “And- you look great. But…something’s missing,” you muttered. He swallowed hard, dreading what he managed to leave behind. He was breathless as you left a quick kiss off the center of his lips, laughing as you parted. “There,” you giggled.

“Mr. Spengler? There’s a call for you.” the hostess told him, peeling him away from the table of A-listers. As he answered the phone by the kitchen, he could recognize a familiar, angry voice.

“Egon Spengler.”

“Hello, Janine.”

The floodgates opened, and he could practically hear her nails digging into the desk. “I could rip your head off. Is that where you go all day? Hanging out with gorgeous celebrities? Why didn’t you tell us? You’re sitting at dinner with Mel Gibson! You should’ve introduced me. Why didn’t you introduce me? I would’ve killed to meet her- if I had met Einstein I would’ve introduced you. What’s next- you’re having tea with Cher? You disappear for weeks at a time, and we have to watch a tiny TV screen to find out you’re at an award show with a red lipstick stain on your face? You-”

“I’m sorry to cut this so short, Janine. But my wonderful girlfriend has an accolade to accept.”

[agaypanic]

hi omg i got so excited when i saw you were doing egon spengler x reader aaaa! could you do egon and an personality opposite reader? he's all serious and deadpan while she's happy and upbeat (it'd be cool if she was the new girl in the team and had a crush on him). sort of like a "she fell first, he fell harder" situation?

The Sunlight On My Spores (Egon Spengler X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: The new addition to the ghostbuster’s team is a ray of sunshine, and she has her sights on a scientist with an interest in fungi and the supernatural.

A/N: AHHHHH ive been waiting for an egon/ghostbuster request!!! since i havent written for egon before, i hope i get his character right lol also idk shit about science/paranormal jargon. and idk if eegs is spelled the way it should but it’s pronounced ee-gs, like egon but s instead of on

***

Joining the Ghostbusters definitely brought amusement and hecticness to your daily life. Although you handled more of the office work, you had seen your fair share of the paranormal action. Namely Slimer, who would get ahold of your lunch every now and then.

Ray was the first on the team that you had met, being the one to interview you. You liked to call him ‘Sun-Ray’ for his bright and positive personality.

You were pretty much hired on the spot, mainly because Janine had been complaining about the lack of extra help. But as long as you had a steady paycheck, you didn’t mind. Ray had immediately showed you around the firehouse. You met Peter and Winston on the main floor, the former being flirtatious and the latter being more polite in his welcoming. 

Then Ray took you up to the second floor, where the dining area, sleeping quarters, and lab were.

That’s where you met Egon Spengler. His tall frame was hunched over one of the lab’s many workbenches, doing some soldering work on a proton pack.

“Spengs!” Ray said with a wide grin, bringing you over to the scientist. The man in question set down the soldering iron and straightened up, adjusting his glasses as he turned around.

“What is it, Ray?” He asked in a somewhat monotone voice. He glanced at you, furrowing his brows slightly before looking back at his friend. “Who’s this?”

“This is Y/n, our new recruit!” Ray replied enthusiastically, patting you on the shoulder. 

“Ah, so you’ve filled the new receptionist position.” He said, giving you a once-over. “Janine will be happy to hear that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Spengler.” You greeted with a smile. He outreached his hand, which you grasped firmly and gave a few shakes. His hand was slightly calloused, probably from his work, but still felt nice.

“Egon’s fine.”

“I’ve read a few of your papers on paranormal studies; I think the whole thing’s fascinating.” 

Some of his research papers weren’t the only thing of Egon’s you’ve seen. Ever since the Ghostbusters had gained some popularity, you couldn’t help but find him quite cute, spending an extra few seconds looking at him whenever a picture of the group was in your newspaper or on your television screen. 

And he was definitely even more handsome in person.

“Well then, you’ve definitely come to the right place.” Ray grinned, but your focus was still on the spectacled man before you.

“Thank you, that’s very flattering.” Although his voice was a bit monotonous, the response was genuine. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on my spore samples.”

“Spore samples?” You asked with curiosity.

“Yes. I collect spores, molds, and fungus.” 

“That sounds like fun!” Egon was a bit taken aback by your response. That wasn’t a reply he was used to hearing. And the fact that you sounded genuine and peppy was even more confusing to him. 

Ray, wanting to show you the rest of the firehouse, started to pull you away. You gave a quick goodbye to Egon before bounding down the stairs after Ray. Meanwhile, Egon needed to take a second to get his befuddled thoughts straight before he could tend to his samples.

***

You fell into a routine pretty quickly. The job was mainly making appointments and ensuring the boys were ready for a call, scheduled or unexpected. Occasionally, you filed paperwork or got coffee for everyone at odd hours in the day. But because the job was shared between you and Janine, you often had at least a little bit of free time.

“Got another one!” Peter announced as he stepped out of the Ecto-1 that had just rolled into the firehouse, holding up a slightly smoking trap. As Winston and Ray emerged from the car, you wondered if Peter had been wearing a poncho because he was the only one not covered at least halfway in goo. “He was a real slimy one, too.”

“I can tell.” You laughed as Ray and Winston peeled out of their uniforms with a grimace. 

“You’re back.” Egon’s voice almost made you jump; you hadn’t realized he had come down from the lab. He walked until he was standing next to you, holding his hand out towards the ghost trap. “I’ll take that, Peter. Ray, come with me, I want to discuss the containment facility with you.”

“What about it?” Ray asked as he closed his locker. Egon brushed past you to walk down to the basement, Ray close behind.

Not wanting to be caught staring at Egon’s leaving form, you whipped back around to the car. It seemed that Winston and Ray weren’t the only ones who got slimed. Poor Ecto.

“I think I’m gonna clean the car.” You thought aloud. “You guys don’t have any more calls until tomorrow.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Y/n,” Winston said. 

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Peter interjected. “We gotta ride in style, after all.”

“Really, Winston, I don’t mind.” You insisted. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Suit yourself.” He said with a shrug.

Patting you on the shoulder, Winston went upstairs to take a shower. While Peter hung up his jumpsuit, you looked around in a storage closet for car washing supplies.

“Y/n?” You looked towards the sound of the voice, seeing Egon peeking out of the basement entrance.

“Yeah, Eegs?”

“You, uh-” He cleared his throat, cheeks going slightly pink, and you wondered why. “You can wear my jumpsuit, if you want. So your clothes don’t get dirty.”

You grinned, straightening up from your slightly bent position. Peter raised a brow at Egon, although you couldn’t see that because you were also looking at the tall man.

“Thanks, Egon!”

He nodded once before going back downstairs, Peter hot on his tail. 

“You sweet on her or something, Spengs?” He asked quietly, not wanting to gain your attention.

“Shut up, Venkman.”

***

Music blasted as you washed the soap suds of the Ecto-1. You were pretty sure everyone was out of the building, either getting lunch or just not wanting to be in the firehouse. You had taken Egon up on his offer, his jumpsuit fitting very baggy on you. You had to roll up the sleeves and pantlegs, but you didn’t mind. Especially when seeing the patch with his last name on your chest.

Over the music and your own voice singing along to Whitney Houston, you didn’t hear Egon walking down the stairs. When he reached the bottom step, he watched as you jumped around to the beat. 

“I need a man who’ll take the chance, on a love that burns hot enough to last.” You sprayed the last of the soap off the front of the car before turning the hose off. “So when the night falls, my lonely heart calls. Ohh- Oh!” You yelped in surprise as you turned around, seeing Egon, who was still looking at you. His eyes trailed up and down your form, but it was so quick that you didn’t notice. “Hey, Eegs! I thought you’d gone out with the others.” Even after turning down the radio to hear his response, you still danced a bit. Although, your movements were a bit more subdued.

“I was up in the lab, checking on my fungi.” 

“Oh! Was the music distracting you?” You asked, already sounding apologetic. “I can keep it down if you-”

“No!” Egon answered quickly, taking the both of you by surprise. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “No, the music’s fine. I wanted a snack and found that we were out of Twinkies, so I was going to get some.” 

You nodded in understanding, moving to put away the car cleaning supplies that you were no longer using. And then you noticed that Egon hadn’t made any move to leave. You looked over your shoulder, seeing that he was standing in the same spot with eyes darting around the room, and turned back around to face him. You tilted your head with a questioning look.

“Would you, ahem, would you like to come with me?” He seemed a bit shy to ask, and it made you smile brightly. “Wouldn’t want to leave you here all alone and all.”

“Sure!” You answered enthusiastically. “Lemme just put all this away.” 

Without asking, Egon helped you gather everything and put it in the storage closet. You unrolled the limbs of Egon’s uniform, and he couldn’t help but admire you in his attire, despite how much the fabric consumed you. It was hung back up in his locker with care before you grabbed your purse from your desk and skipped over to him.

“Ready?” You nodded, and the two of you walked out of the firehouse. Without thinking, you looped your arm through his. But before you could pull away and apologize for not asking, he was already pulling you along the sidewalk, the tiniest hint of a smile on his serious face.

[din0st1ck3rz]

Got anymore reader x Egon hcs? Wild card have fun with it

YES ALWAYS

(Sorry this took me so long it was in my drafts for a while!!)

Egon Spengler x reader random Headcanons

(Reminder a lot of these come from my own personal ideas with my OC x canon! Please take them with a grain of salt!! If u don’t like them just scroll ^^)

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٠࣪⭑ He loves going on dates in the woods. For example, going mushroom hunting with you! A long walk through the forest, sun seeping through leaves overhead, a light breeze as the two of you talk science and look for fungi? Perfect day.

٠࣪⭑ He kinda sucks at cooking. He’s measured, calculated, and good with instructions-

But he just has poor luck with cooking. He’s a little better at baking but still manages to burn stuff.

You’re definitely better than him at the activity so sometimes he’ll try to impress you with his skills- but still the two of you are left with a kitchen mess and burnt cookies.

You don’t make him feel bad about it though, ypu thank him while taking a bite into the overdone treat

And of course he gets that rare bashful grin when you do

٠࣪⭑ Glasses fog up when he’s flustered

٠࣪⭑ He hates his hair to get messed up but he loves it when you play with it, he sort of melts

٠࣪⭑ He isn’t the first to initiate things often but when he does he’s so subtle and gentle about it. Sometimes when he randomly pulls you into a hug, it can be almost robotic at first. But as soon as you reciprocate, he relaxes into it.

٠࣪⭑ He doesn’t sleep much. He is the last to fall asleep between you two and the first to wake up. However, when you finally get him to lay down, he always wants to hold you a little longer

٠࣪⭑ Has a thing for you tugging on his tie

٠࣪⭑ Sometimes you randomly kiss his nose. His face will turn bright red whenever you do

٠࣪⭑ He has a notebook fully dedicated to everything about you. Your favorite restaurant, favorite colors, stores, hobbies, everything.

Sometimes you’ll find little sticky notes littered around the house or firehouse with details about you scribbled down

He’s documented every date and flirtatious comment between the two of you and you find it oddly endearing

٠࣪⭑ It definitely get to you when you catch him in his black undershirt thay he wears under his flight suit. He doesn’t understand at all. Why would you like him all dirty after a job? With his hair a mess and dirt smudged on his face. Wouldnt you prefer the neat and tidy look? Makes no sense at all to him but you turn into a puddle every time

٠࣪⭑ Sometimes when he’s tired and doesn’t want to admit it, he’ll surprise you by wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. He’ll get that drained look on his face, eyes closed, hair just a little messy and eyebrows knitted. When he hums that little groan and nuzzled into your neck, you know he’s in desperate need of a break

٠࣪⭑ Doesn’t talk much about his childhood but you know he’s got some trauma in that area. You’re patient with him about it and understand why he is the way he is. He probably felt pressured to always do good, always be smart.

You constantly reassure him that he’s enough and that he’s the smartest person you know

He enjoys the praise

٠࣪⭑ You make fun of his silly two piece pajamas he wears. Even in his sleep he’s all proper

٠࣪⭑ He also has a very neat and organized clothing situation going on at home. His closet and all of his drawers are perfectly organized, folded, and coordinated. You tease him a little about this too but he says it’s to stay prepared. He can get ready faster if he knows where everything is

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

[finniestoncrane]

mm I’m haunted by so many visions. When. When Egon Splenger. Makes that joke. The penis joke. And he has that smile. That look. With the bookcase behind him. TUMBLR USER FINNIESTONECRANE! I have NEVER felt such a STRONG urge to shove a man against a bookcase. He just. I. When he. When. Just like. He. When. Mm.

Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.6k anon you and me both i cant express to you how badly that scene made me want him and i wanted him pretty fuckin badly before that lmao BUT here's some reader who is actually able to prove his theory that the chicks dig his epididymus moore so👻 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, flirting, handjob, good old fashioned ball gargling

"Studious, dedicated. Intelligent beyond need for the work I'd require you to do... Why do you want this position?"

You remembered the moment well. The interview with Egon that landed you the job in his research team. You'd fumbled over the words at first, your entire academic career flashing before your eyes. Ever since you had first seen him in those silly commercials, then watched him as he saved the world and went back to the field for his work, you'd wanted him. The opportunity to work with him was something you had waited your life for. And you thought you had ruined it in the moment.

"I'm a huge fan, Doctor Spengler."

Nothing about your academic achievements, your interest in this particular study, or any of his previous ones. No, you'd muttered a ridiculous statement with no substance that made you seem like a childish moron.

But Egon had raised an eyebrow, a smile raising on one side of his mouth in a knowing look. Almost flirtatious, definitely something behind it.

That's how your relationship had continued, the tension only building each passing day as you worked together late into the evenings and often on weekends, each others' only point of contact for days on end.

Nothing had ever come of it, though, past suggestive remarks and lingering touches, looks that felt like they lasted for minutes. You wondered if you were both far too shy to confront it, or if he felt it would push the boundaries of professionalism.

Either way, you harboured the crush still, and spent your days making sure you worked to his expectations, living to please him in at least one of the ways you wanted to. It was that level of concentration that meant you hadn't noticed when Egon's old colleague, Doctor Venkman, had entered the lab. At least not until he had begun making loud remarks and crude jokes, intended to be at the expense of Egon.

"Bet those science chicks really dig that big cranium of yours."

With a quick glance in your direction, Egon caught your eye. You looked away, trying to pretend that you weren't staring at him, but it was obvious he had caught you. And with a growing grin, he looked back to Venkman.

"I think they're more interested in my epididymis."

You blushed immediately, understanding the joke a lot faster than Venkman, who might not have gotten it at all. Trying to hide the reddening of your cheeks, you buried your face in your paperwork and didn't even bother to look up as Venkman said goodbye and left the lab. You only looked up when Egon cleared his throat, catching him just as he turned his back to you and continued filing through the paperwork and medical books lined up on the shelves in front of him.

That was a giveaway, a hint, securing the possibility in your mind. Egon had been talking about you. The joke, a reference to your clear interest in him, a sly but subtle nod at the unspoken attraction, an inside joke between you and him in front of his friend. The way he had looked at you, the way he always did. It was difficult to deny it. So you took matters into your own hands, a little bit sick of waiting for him to make the first move. You'd applied to the job, you'd complimented him first, you began the surreptitious flirting. You might as well be the one that started this too.

"Doctor Spengler..."

You spoke from the other side of the room, only beginning to walk towards him when he had turned away from the bookshelves and was paying attention to you.

"... do you have any evidence to that theory that you proposed?"

"Which theory?"

"The one about your... cranium, verses other aspects of your anatomy.

As you approached him, he smiled to you, a knowing grin that spoke volumes.

"I've observed a fair amount of evidence to support it, actually."

He turned from you again, filing the last of the files he held in his hands as he continued.

"Although, I suppose for it to be concrete, I would require some quantifiable data. An example that could-"

As he turned once more, he found you right in front of him, reaching your hand out to cup the front of his dark grey, woollen slacks. You stroked down the quickly stiffening length, letting your fingers reach further, teasing at his balls. Leaning into him, you pushed his back against the book case, watching as his eyes widened, his smile grew brighter, and his cheeks began to darken.

"Would this be sufficient evidence?"

Egon's voice shook on the first word, but he managed to compose himself.

"P-perhaps. Although, it wouldn't be much to write about in an academic or research sense."

"Oh, I can give you a lot to write about, Doctor Spengler."

You pressed your chest to him, hands around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. As your palms drifted around to his cheeks, they quickly fell to his tie, tugging on it as you brought him closer, feeling his own hands skimming over your side, settling on your waist as the kiss deepened. Satisfied that he wasn't going anywhere, you let go of your grip on him and began running your hands through his hair, playfully teasing at the curls before you pulled back, watching with glee as he followed you, lips outstretched, before opening his eyes.

"This isn't about your cranium, though, Doctor Spengler."

Sinking to your knees in front of him, you looked up as you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. He reached behind him, resting his palms against the rows of books and files, trying to balance himself as he cleared the nerves from his throat. A short inhale choked in his throat as you gripped his cock, removing it from his underwear and letting it bounce free in front of you.

You wrapped your palm around his surprising, but slim, length and being stroking it slowly, watching the way his mouth moved, tongue pressing out, soft gasps emanating from his throat, as you felt him throbbing against you. And just as he adjusted himself to the sensation of your hand pumping his cock softly, you leaned forwards, tongue out, spread flat, and suddenly against his balls.

"Oh-ho... oh my."

With a soft laugh, you placed a kiss to his sack, lips wet from your drool, and let your mouth pull away for just a second before you went back in for another, tongue pushed out from your lips to lap at him as you kissed once more. On the third one, you let your lips enclose over a patch of skin, sucking slightly, tongue tip stiff and tracing over the skin in your mouth before you let go.

You stroked his cock a little rougher, placing your tongue just below it so his balls could bounce and slap on your tongue, the gentle impact rousing a heat in you, the sound almost electric in the air. Egon's fingers were stiff, tensed, tented against the shelves so firmly that his knuckles were white.

"This is... quite sufficient evidence... if you'd like to conclude the experiment."

"Do you want me to stop, Egon?"

He looked down to you, your gaze returned through your eyelashes as you blinked slowly.

"No. No. Absolutely not."

"Me either."

With a grin you kept going, fingers still wrapped tight around his cock, palm sliding against it as you pumped it rhythmically. You opened your mouth wide as you stroked, letting one of his balls rest on your tongue before you sucked it into your mouth, salivating at the taste of him, drool washing over his skin and dribbling down your chin as you hollowed your cheeks.

You let go with a pop, slurping as you released him from your lips, frothed drool spilling onto your chin as you tried to clean yourself up before diving back towards him, moaning as you jerked his cock and lapped at both balls now, futilely attempting to fit both of them in your mouth at the same time.

Instead, you let your tongue glide over them, flitting quickly from side to side as you tightened your grip on his length, only faltering with your speed when he stuttered out some words with a desperate, pleading tone.

"Ah... I think we have... sufficient evidence to... reach a... hmmm... conclusion..."

"Of course, Doctor Spengler. How would you like me to collect the results?"

A strangled laugh barked out of his throat, his eyes pressed tightly shut as he processed the words you had just said, so serious, so familiar, but so filthy.

"T-tongue... tongue, please..."

Still stroking his shaft, you picked up the speed and brought your other hand up to cup his balls, squeezing them firmly, easing up every now and then so he could feel the throb of pleasure as you tightened once more. Your mouth was open wide, a moan passing up and over your tongue which was laid out flat, ready for him.

It only took a few more seconds before his cum was painting your tongue, as well as the rest of your face. Thick, white ropes of his warm seed spattered on your skin, along your taste buds, a not unpleasant tang of salt lingering even after you swallowed what you had collected, still more of it dripping from the tip and onto your hand.

You stroked a few more times, until his body convulsed at your touch, and then you let go, standing up in front of him and wiping a drop of his cum from the corner of your mouth. He was unbalanced, his eyes half-lidded and hazy from the release, but he managed to speak through his lopsided smile.

"Wait until the scientific community hears about that."

[ilovetheriddler]

egon spengler - baking - fluff and smut thank you!

I hope that you enjoy it!

Halloween Fic Event.

A Surprisingly Haunting Taste.

(Egon Spengler x F!Reader.)

Contents: NSFW 18+ 🔞🔞🔞 Oral, Kissing, Fluff.

You carefully laid out everything that would be necessary for the baked goods that you intended to bake with Egon's help. After looking at the various different options, you ultimately decided that baking cookies and then decorating them in a Halloween themed would be perfect. You turned to him to inquire about what type of cookies you were going to make.

"So, Sugar Cookies or Chocolate chip?"

"I very much enjoy chocolate chip, so I feel like that's a safe choice."

You helped him tie his apron in the back. It had a somewhat humorous chemical formula on the front of it that was actually just the make up of what goes into a cake. You found it to be very cute and fitting for him.

The two of you went about getting everything started, with him cracking the eggs and focusing on the wet ingredients, and you focusing on the dry ones, the process was slow but Egon insisted that he wanted to try and make them from scratch, by the time everything was mixed and put in the oven the two of you were already quite covered in flour, it made him look as white as a ghost, and you had to hold yourself back from cracking a ghost related joke or pun.

You soaked a washcloth in the sink, and then took it and carefully started cleaning the flour off of his face. His eyes softened, and he let out a gentle chuckle at your tender and affectionate gesture.

"Dear, I appreciate the help, but I'm more than capable of cleaning myself off."

"I know you are, but I want to do this... is there a problem with that?"

"Of course not. However, I want to clean you off as well, to keep things even and fair."

"Sounds fine to me!"

You expected him to take the washcloth from you, but were a bit surprised when he leaned in and gently kissed your lips instead, allowing it to linger for only a few seconds before properly taking the washcloth and cleaning off your face.

The two of you went back and forth like that for a bit while you waited for the cookies to finish baking. However, one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you were up on the counter, your pants and underwear long discarded, with Egon's head in-between your thighs.

"E-Egon... are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm absolutely positive dear, I want to know if tasting you while something with a particularly sweet aroma cooking nearby will affect how you taste or if it does nothing. As a man of science, I must consider all the variables."

You watched as he paused for a moment, considering something quietly before taking off his glasses and sitting them next to you on the counter. He moved his hands up your thighs, grasping onto them just tightly enough before spreading them apart just a tad more.

You let out a mixture between an embarrassed squeal and a moan as he buried his face against you, sliding his tongue just barely inside of your folds, eagerly lapping up your dripping arousal and groaning softly as he savored the taste of you.

He continued licking and sucking at your entrance, and your clitoris, it didn't take long with how terrifyingly precise and methodical he was before you were being pushed over the edge, Cumming all over his mouth and lower face with an intensity that only spurred him on more in all honesty.

"Hmm... it's as I hypothesized, you're simply so sweet that no outside factor can alter that, how interesting.... I still think I need to run this test, at least another... two or three times, just to have multiple points to compare, of course."

"Y-yeah, sure... we can do this as many times as you want to..."

And you would have let him... if the smoke alarm didn't go off, the cookies were burned and ruined... oh well, at least you enjoyed yourself.

[hippiegoth97]

Random Egon Spengler Thought #1

A/N: alright, guys. I haven't posted in a while, and I've been busy working on the long Egon story. But my brain hatched this last night/today so here you go!

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: smut, swearing, fem!reader, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is 20s, Egon is mid-thirties), established relationship, groping, grinding, fingering, unprotected sex, sexual fantasies, dirty talk, pet names (sparingly), mentions of exhibitionism

A few tags: @ghostsfungitwinkies @haroldramistwinkie @taire-the-disaster-gay @gr00vyashley (if this isn't your thing, feel free to ignore. if being tagged makes you uncomfortable, I'll delete it at your request 💜)

"I'm sorry...could you repeat that?" Egon asks, clearing his throat. He doesn't actually need you to repeat it, he knows damn well what you said. You came into his lab in the firehouse, dressed in nothing but a lingerie set and a trench coat, opened it up and asked him if he wanted to take a break to fuck your brains out. Knowing the others are out on calls busting ghosts all night, with Janine taking off less than ten minutes ago, you've taken it upon yourself to seduce him.

You've been seeing each other for a while, you used to be one of his research assistants. You kept things professional while you worked under him, and waited until you'd earned your credit hours to ask him out. He was flattered, to say the least. He's had many a young woman hit on him in his line of work, both as a Ghostbuster and a scientist. Most times he'd turn them down, or have a one-night stand if he was really desperate for affection. But sleeping with women who admired him the way they would Tom Cruise, or someone similar, usually lead to high expectations and broken dreams.

But you? You were different. Egon could tell from the jump that you liked him, though you tried your best to hide it. You cared about the work, not wanting your attraction to him to get in the way. He admired that about you, even though he would have been plenty receptive to any advances you made. You weren't like the other college kids he employed the help of. You didn't ask stupid questions, you kept up with his pace, you didn't question his methods unless it was truly necessary. You were perfect.

When it comes to attraction for Egon, brains come first and looks come second. And man, oh man, do you have a level of intelligence that gets his motor running. Before he could even begin to consider your looks, he fell in love with your mind. You had a habit of staying behind after the others had left, asking to see what other projects he was working on, or about any scientific journals he recommended. He was more than willing to show you his side projects, namely his mold, spore, and fungus collection. The journals he'd tell you about were usually ones you'd already read, which lead to lengthy conversations picking them to pieces, or speaking enthusiastically about what both of you found most fascinating.

Only after the two of you spent an entire evening discussing at length about psycho-reactive substances, did Egon start to look at your physical attributes as well as your mental ones. And what he saw was very pleasing to the eyes. Everything about you is beautiful to him. From your soft, luscious hair, to your pretty face that lights up every time you see him, to your gorgeous body which makes all others he's seen pale in comparison.

A body which now stands before him, your most intimate parts covered in delicate, luxurious red lace. A dark red that compliments your skin tone exquisitely, stitched in the form of a matching bra and panties. Garters and black fishnets lead down your gorgeous legs and into a pair of red high heels. His favorite. Egon can't quite pinpoint what it is, but there's something about railing you with your shoes still on that drives him crazy.

"You heard me the first time, Spengler," you tease, stepping further into his space. He's currently sat at his computer, as he was busy typing away his supernatural findings from the last bust he went on. You turn his rotating chair to make him fully face you and reach for the end of his tie. Egon swallows hard, utterly speechless as you pull him in closer. His face grows nearer to yours agonizingly slow, and you stop just before his lips can brush against your own. You lean over to speak into his ear.

"Don't tell me you'd rather sit at your computer all night, instead of fucking your girlfriend six ways from Sunday," you say, nipping his earlobe afterwards. Your tone sultry is and low, almost pouty. This particular voice of yours never fails to send the hairs on Egon's neck prickling upwards in excitement.

"O-Of course not!" Egon scoffs nervously as you pull back to meet his eyes again. He clears his throat at the pure lust pooling in your pupils, which nearly swallows your irises into murky depths. "I'm just a bit caught off guard," he says, which isn't a lie. It's not exactly like you to initiate sex at his place of work. Of course, there has been little opportunity to do so. The other Ghostbusters are always hanging around in some way of another, though none of them live in the firehouse full time the way Egon does. That's not to say what you're attempting right now doesn't intrigue him, quite the opposite. It's new, and risky.

"That's kinda the point," you smirk, climbing onto Egon's lap. Your smile grows as you can already feel him getting hard underneath you. "Does it excite you, Egon? To know we could get caught?" You ask, riding the line between teasing and earnestness.

"Yes," he answers simply, a small groan leaving him as you roll your hips once. His large hands raise to meet your waist, resting comfortably on your supple flesh. He gazes adoringly into your eyes, awaiting your next move.

"What would you like me to do to you first, Doctor?" You say playfully. Egon loves it when you call him that in bed. It was you who started it, but he certainly worked hard enough for the title, so he had no objections. You'd tried once to call him the shortened version, 'Doc'. but all that did was remind you both of a certain cartoon rabbit, which was more than a turn-off.

Egon scrunches his face, as if you should already know where to begin. He isn't the most assertive when it comes to intimacy. He has extensive knowledge of how to please a woman, and he's gained a decent amount of experience over the years. But no one else has been so domineering and forward with him, not like you. You know what you want, and how to say it. And try as Egon might to keep up with you, sometimes the words can't help but escape him.

"Come on, you've got an extensive vocabulary. I'm sure you can think of something to say," you prod, leaning in close again, putting your arms around his shoulders. He catches a whiff of your perfume, which only clouds his head even more. He wants you, needs you, in every way you'll give yourself to him. It's difficult to focus on just one thing.

"Kiss me," Egon finally replies.

"That's better," you nod, closing the gap between you to bring your lips to his. You feel him melt against you instantly, letting you guide him. Your hands travel up to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his dark, styled curls. Your hips roll in a steady rhythm over Egon's lap, your rapidly soaking cunt rubbing against his stiff erection. He moans into the kiss, the sound pushing you to go further. You grind yourself down on him harder, moaning at the pressure on your clit.

"Darling, slow down," Egon says softly as he pulls away. He smiles warmly at you, cupping your cheek. "We've got all the time we need. The others will be gone until the morning," he says.

"I know," you sigh, ceasing your grinding for a moment. You give him a brief kiss before speaking again. "I'm sorry. I've just missed you all day, and I couldn't stop thinking about you," you lean in to kiss his cheek this time. "I had to beg my boss to let me off early, so I could see you," your voice grows whiny and breathless as you continue, pressing your lips to his neck. "All I could focus on was this," you nip on his throat, making his cock twitch.

You're getting riled up again, but you just can't seem to help it. All day at work, every little thing reminded you of Egon. And that led to you having endless fantasies about him, what you wanted to do to him, and him to you. You pictured his head between your legs, lapping at you until you scream his name. You imagined him grinding his cock into you helplessly for hours, until you're both soaked with sweat and growing tired, because he just can't get enough of being inside you. You replayed the look of pure ecstasy he makes when he comes, the feeling of him filling you to the brim with his sticky release countless times.

You continue kissing his neck, eating up the soft moans and whimpers he lets out at your touch. Egon isn't overly loud during sex, but he's not afraid to make any noise. Especially not when he knows how much these sounds arouse you. His hands travel up your sides, making goosebumps raise along your skin as his touch is unbearably light. He reaches behind your back, undoing the clasps of your bra. The straps go slack on your shoulders, and you slip the garment off. You pull away from suckling on Egon's throat, letting him have a good look at your bare chest.

"I'll never get over how beautiful you are," Egon says lovingly, bringing his hands back around to gently cup your breasts. "Or how fortunate I am to be with you," he squeezes your flesh in his palms.

"Egon," you moan, letting your head fall forward as he gropes you. His fingers tenderly roll your hardened nipples, dialing up your pleasure. Desire pools inside your stomach, growing deeper and warmer by the second.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Egon asks, as if he can't see the clear evidence before him. Your eyes are blissfully closed, your mouth sitting open as you moan and whine for him. Your back is arched slightly to keep your tits within his hold, though he has no intention of going anywhere.

"Yes, you feel so good," you answer, forcing your eyes open to look at him. His expression is soft, serene. He's unbelievably happy to be here in this moment with you, a sentiment you share.

Satisfied with your answer, Egon leans forward to press his lips to your breasts. Your noises grow louder at the feeling of his hot, wet mouth searing a path along your skin. He takes one of your nipples between his lips, sucking firmly. Your hips begin to grind again out of impulse, searching for friction. He doesn't slow you down this time, becoming rather needy himself. Every move you make, every sound you let out, everything you do leaves him absolutely dizzy with lust.

The two of you continue like this for what feels like hours, with your hands tangled in Egon's hair, his face buried in your chest. Heavy breaths and simpering moans fill the otherwise silent laboratory, the temperature of the room rising every time you grind into him. A damp spot has formed on his slacks at this point, your arousal soaking through your panties and making a mess. Egon's dick throbs with ache inside his pants, and each roll of your hips makes him gradually more desperate.

"Egon, please. I want you inside me," you whine, reaching between your bodies to find his belt. Your hands fumble with it, the hardware jingling as you manage to get it open.

"So do I," Egon agrees, pulling away from your chest to catch his breath. He could damn near suffocate himself in your breasts if he isn't careful, though he wouldn't mind meeting his demise in such a way. You lift yourself up slightly to access his zipper, and he takes this opportunity to explore between your legs. His long, thin fingers make contact with your clothed pussy, earning a lilting moan from your pretty lips.

"You're making quite a mess," he comments with a grin, gliding over the soaked lace.

"Only for you, darling," you say sweetly, unzipping his pants to gain access to what's inside. You can see the outline of him in the dark fabric, long and tempting. You pull Egon's cock free from the confines of his slacks and boxers, his tip red and dripping with precum. You swipe your thumb over his slit, bringing it up to your lips to lick it clean.

"Fuck," he groans at the sight, pressing harder on your cunt in response. His eyes stay locked on yours as you stroke him in your hand, warming him up. He pulls your panties to the side, needing to fully feel you. His fingertips finally slip through your slick folds, causing your back to arch. He rubs slow, purposeful circles on your clit, devouring the pathetic noises you make from the stimulation. It's probably one of his favorite things to explore your most sensitive areas, with his hands, or his mouth, or his cock. And you let him, eager to have him touch you any way he likes. He's certainly adept at it, never failing to set your insides on fire and leave you a satisfied mess by the time he's through with you.

"Ready?" You ask him, seconds away from outright begging. He's made you wait long enough, you need him inside you now.

"Yes," Egon nods, pulling his hand away from you. You whine at the loss, though you quickly get over it as you bring his dick to your entrance. His hands return to your waist, your free hand resting on his shoulder to keep yourself steady. The two of your pant in anticipation, so very close to what you crave.

You slowly sink down onto him, accepting his thick length inside your cunt. "Oh, god," you gasp as he fills you completely. No matter how many times you've done this before, you're always surprised by how well Egon fits inside you, how his dick reaches every pleasurable spot possible.

Egon's hands tense around your hips when your walls clench to adjust to his size, his breath hitching. You're unbelievably warm and wet inside, surrounding him completely. If he wasn't sweating profusely before, he certainly is now. He starts to remove his lab coat to cool down, when you stop him.

"Keep it on. You're so sexy in it," you say while biting your lip.

"Really?" He questions curiously, raising an eyebrow. This is the first time hearing such a thing, especially from you.

"Uh-huh," you say mischievously, nodding. "I don't know what it is, exactly. It just...suits you," you observe in admiration, running your fingers over the lapels of his coat.

"I would hope so. I am a scientist," Egon comments, missing what you're truly trying to say. He's like that sometimes, taking things too literally.

"It's more than that, I think. You're at your most confident when you wear this coat. It makes you comfortable, because science is your safe place," you explain with a smile. "And confidence is very sexy."

"I see. I suppose I've never thought about it that way before," Egon chuckles, amused by your assessment.

"I know," you giggle, shaking your head at his response. You decide to move things along, carefully lifting yourself up before landing in Egon's lap. A shared moan escapes you both, conversation falling to the wayside for a moment while you set a steady pace. You bounce on Egon's cock leisurely, rolling your hips as you do so. Your lips find his, meeting in a feverish kiss. It becomes all teeth and tongues rather quickly, though neither of you mind whatsoever. All you want is to stay close, be connected to one another.

You pick up a bit of speed, moaning down Egon's throat as his tip hits our g-spot again and again. His hands drift down your back, landing on your ass. He squeezes the flesh of your cheeks in his grasp, guiding you as you ride him. This only spurs you on to go even faster, pushing you closer to the edge. You can't keep kissing him very easily with your newfound pace, breaking away and instead gazing deep into his eyes. His glasses have gone crooked, his hair becoming an unkempt mess. He looks absolutely wild, grunting and groaning beneath you.

"Have I ever told you how badly I wanted you when I first saw you?" You ask breathlessly.

"No, but it was quite obvious," Egon replies plainly, which earns a brief glare from you. "You weren't exactly subtle. You blushed every other time I looked at you, even after months of working under me," he teases, though his statement is far from untrue.

"I don't know if you realize it or not, but I was trying to talk dirty to you just now," you explain, rolling your eyes.

"I'm sorry," Egon apologizes, realizing he's missed the hint once again. "Continue," he adds, suddenly very interested in what you were planning to say.

"As I was saying, I wanted you so badly..." You trail off, dragging it out now that he's annoyed you. Egon watches you expectantly, needing to hear where this goes. "I was constantly thinking about how much I wanted you to bend me over your desk and fuck me, while wearing nothing but this coat," you say in a sultry tone, speeding up once more.

"You could have asked me to. I would have done anything you wanted," Egon admits through a groan, enamored by your filthy words. It's not as if your attraction or desire for him have ever been a real secret, especially now that you're together. But to hear it from your lips that you wanted him this entire time, it's intoxicating.

"I'm sure you would have, darling," you reply, finding his confession unbearably sweet. "Would've been hard to keep it secret, though."

"Isn't that part of the thrill?" Egon asks, a dark look in his eyes. He's very excited by the idea of sneaking around with you back then, having to tiptoe out of your dorm room in the middle of the night, or you covertly slipping out of his office. Secret dates you could have gone on, a town over so no one would recognize you together. Maybe even weekends away in some shitty hotel, spending every second entangled in one another. His head spins with the possibilities, the missed opportunities. It almost makes him sad, but mainly he's massively turned on.

"You're really into that, aren't you?" You ask, intrigued that you appear to have unlocked some secret desire in him. Perhaps a kink you can exploit to your benefit.

"Yes. Very much so," Egon nods, surprised at himself. It appears with your new initiation tactic he has become a bit more open with you. This may call for further experimentation, namely of his own sexual limits. You've made it clear that you're up for just about anything, surely you'll be able to assist him.

"It's nice to learn new things about you, Egon," you say sweetly as your pleasure builds. You're getting very close now, pushing yourself to ride him even faster. "Oh, god, fuck," you moan loudly as you ram your sweet-spot into his cock over and over. It won't be long now until you're screaming his name.

"It's nice to share them with you, darling," Egon pants, holding onto your ass more firmly to help maintain your momentum. He can tell by how roughly you're bouncing, how loud your moans are getting, that you're nearing release. "Keep going. I'm getting close, too," he says as his stomach threatens to tense.

You do as he says, giving him everything you have to make you both come. Your thighs start to burn from the effort, the flesh of them sticking to his slacks from all your sweat. You carry on regardless, clinging to Egon for dear life. His fingers dig into your skin, trying so hard to hang on despite the intense heat between you both. The room is filled with helpless moans and grunts, the wet sounds of you repeatedly piercing yourself on his dick accompanying them.

"Egon...oh god, I'm gonna come," you murmur, the waves of bliss threatening to overtake you. You lean forward to fully embrace him, keeping his chest pressed close to yours. You bury your face in his neck, still riding him with all your might, until your orgasm finally hits you. "Fuck!" You cry out, muffled against his sweat-soaked flesh. Ecstasy rolls over your entire being, lighting up all your nerve-endings. Your thighs shake erratically, your nails digging into Egon's shoulders as you ride this out. Your walls clamp around his length, pulling him into the rapture along with you.

"I- fuck, I'm going to come," Egon grunts as his own high hits him like a ton of bricks. Your cunt squeezing him so tight makes his vast mind melt inside his skull, driving him to thrust up into you, spilling sticky ropes of cum into your throbbing pussy. His stuttering hips prolong your own pleasure, and you mewl against his neck.

A few more moans and heavy breaths leave you both as you slowly come to a stop. You sit in sweating silence for a couple of minutes, letting your hearts and lungs slow down to their normal pace. You sit upright, meeting each other's eyes. Content smiles rest on your lips, an intense affection for one another blossoming within your chests. There is nothing that could possibly ruin this moment, until you hear the ECTO-1 making its way into the garage of the firehouse.

"Oh, shit," you gasp, quickly removing yourself from Egon's lap. You've left quite a mess on him, a mix of sweat and your arousal leaving a dark, very noticeable stain on the fabric. His own release is rapidly soaking into the cloth as well, leaving him unable to hide what you've just gotten up to.

"I'll go change. You put your coat back on," Egon instructs, abruptly leaving the room to change his pants. He fixes his glasses as he walks, feeling around on his head to straighten out his hair.

While Egon cleans up, you throw on the trench coat you came in with, closing it up tight just as Ray ascends the stairs, with Winston and Peter in tow. They've got a bit of slime on their shoulders, but it seems the worksheet for the night was rather light. They were supposed to be gone until morning.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Didn't expect to see you here tonight, kiddo," Peter says, giving you a curious glance up and down. If he knows one thing, it's to be very suspicious of a woman wearing a trench coat and high heels.

"Oh. Yeah. I got off work early to visit Egon," you say nervously, pulling the ties of your coat tighter.

"And where is the egghead in question?" Peter probes, a knowing look on his face.

"He's just, uh, in the bathroom. I think," you reply, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

"I see. Would that have anything to do with what I assume is your bra on the floor behind you there?" Peter grins as he asks his final question, prompting laughter from the other men as they also notice your discarded undergarment. Your eyes go wide when you realize that in trying to cover yourself so quickly, you left cold hard evidence of your shenanigans with Egon on the goddamn floor.

Egon returns to the room with fresh slacks on to find his colleagues seemingly laughing at you for some unknown reason. "What's going on here?" He asks, his brows furrowing. He certainly hopes his friends aren't picking on you, Peter in particular can be what many have referred to him as: a dickhead.

"Why don't you tell us, Spengs?" Ray comments, his laughter only growing.

"I knew you had a way with the ladies, Egie. But, man, I did not expect this from you," Peter chuckles, nudging his head behind you. Egon's eyes follow, locating your brassiere on the floor, which you have been too mortified to pick up as of yet. "You dog!" Peter claps Egon on the shoulder, before going on his way to get washed up.

"It's always the quiet ones," Winston comments, shaking his head as he laughs his way out of the room. Ray follows suit, leaving you and Egon alone.

"Are you alright?" Egon asks, walking over to you and picking your bra up from the floor. He hands it to you, and you slip it into your pocket for the time being. He looks at you with concern, wondering what he can do to make things better.

"I'm okay. A little embarrassed, I guess," you reply, picking at your hands and fighting the harsh blush that's taken your cheeks hostage.

"As am I. Perhaps our future encounters ought to take place in your apartment from now on," Egon suggests, taking your hand in his. You look up to meet his eyes, finding sincere remorse and admiration.

"Sounds good to me," you say quietly, nodding.

"That isn't to say I didn't enjoy this. But it appears using the firehouse as a sexual venue isn't exactly viable," he explains, needing you to know he doesn't regret any moment spent with you. Even if it means his fellow Ghostbusters are going to give an earful about this for weeks.

"I know," you nod again, turning to put yourself in front of him. You wrap your arms around his middle, smiling. "I love you, Egon," you say to him, as you have quite a few times before. It's still a relatively new step in your relationship, but it warms your heart every time you tell him how you feel.

"I love you too, darling. More than you could possibly know," he replies sweetly, giving you a tender kiss. "How about I take the night off, and we can start round two when we get back to your apartment?" Egon suggests once he pulls away, a devious glint in his eye.

"That sounds perfect."

[wifetomanyfictionalmen]

IDEA:what if the reader and egon are like in a secret relationship and nobody knows till Egon shares some of a chocolate bar, and like she thanks him by giving him a kiss and every one is just flabbergasted. 😲 And Egon just stands there and becomes a blushing mess 😳 cuz he doesn't know what to tell the others

This screamed at me. So let’s do it.

“Spengs got a date before Venkman!”

You were close friends with the ghostbusters, they saved you a few times (not that you found trouble more that it found you) and you’d grown very close with Dr Egon Spengler. The man fascinated you, and surprisingly you fascinated him.

Currently you were sat in the lab with him, he was mainly doing emotional tests on the mood slime they’d found under New York, something you found mildly interesting. You and Egon had been dating for roughly a year, of course both of you agreed to keep it under wraps for now. The others came in and you looked up from your notepad giving them a soft smile.

Egon was eating a Twinkie (his ‘lunch break’) when they came in. He finished it and turned his attention to the others and you perked up. Egon never shared his Twinkies with anyone so when you asked for one, and he threw you the last one in the packet everyone was surprised. You opened it and began eating as you made more notes, the slime bubbling at everyone’s surprise. You looked up and tilted your head before closing the note book and finishing the Twinkie off. You went over to them and pressed a gentle kiss to Egons forehead as you sat beside him.

Peter and Ray looked at eachother then back at you and Egon. Though he was good at hiding his emotions inside he was a blushing flustered mess screaming at how casual you’d been. Winston chuckled and nudged Ray looking at Peter “Spengs got a date before Venkman!”