⟡ summary: that night, you discovered a new side of junmyeon.
⟡ content: +18 content, mdni, smut, non idol au, plot with porn, 10 year age gap, mention of alcohol (no drunk sex), light angst, foreplay, praising, oral sex (both receiving), fingering, spitting, pussy slapping, raw sex, p i v, creampie, aftercare, dilf!junmyeon x f!reader | word count: 4.4k words
⟡ a/note: hi, loves!! like always, read the content warning first, and... keep in mind that junmyeon was wearing glasses, mhwaaa. anyway, minors get away from here !!
A feather kiss. That was what Junmyeon promised himself that night when he leaned in to kiss you. But he didn’t expect you to deepen it, burying your fingers in his nape. You were on tiptoes, feeling the warmth of his palm holding your lower back, while the other hand was cupping your cheekbone.
“Sweetheart,” he mumbled against your lips, fighting a losing battle with his self-control.
You weren’t listening.
Junmyeon felt his rational side curse at himself for being the one who started the kiss, but he knew he had to be the one who stopped it too. He pulled away, looking down at you with wide and shimmering eyes behind his glasses. In the dim light of the street, the frames seemed to highlight the sheer panic in his expression. He didn’t know where to begin his apologies—for the lack of permission, for the cocktails that were still in your system, for pulling away, or for the way his heart broke just looking at the confusion on your face.
“I’m sorry.” He managed to cup your face with both hands as if he couldn’t bear to let go entirely. “I-I didn’t mean to—”
“Kiss me?” Your voice sounded rougher than you expected. You wrenched yourself away, reaching up to quickly swipe at the tear beginning to blur your vision. “I should go home.”
“Wait.” Junmyeon caught your hand before you crossed the street at a red light. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
You didn’t want to look at his face. You didn’t want to see the regret etched into his features. “Angel… you were drinking. I didn’t want you—”
“I get it.” You cut him off, the sting of his rejection sharper than any alcohol.
Junmyeon knew that any explanation would sound hollow. He knew he fucked up this time.
Without another word, he hailed a taxi, sliding into the seat beside you in a heavy silence as you two headed to your place.
It was your third date. Junmyeon had always been a gentleman. He’d opened every door, offered every praise, and treated you with a reverence that made you feel like a princess. That night, he put you first too. The moment he saw you enjoying the cocktails, he decided to drink just a sip of wine to take care of you, even admitting that the ten-year age gap between you had terrified him at first, though he’d followed it by adding that he’d never felt more like himself than when he was with you.
He knew you didn’t care about his age at all, joking about how he looked even younger than you. Yet, there you were, reeling because he seemed to regret the one thing you had wanted the most—a kiss.
When you two left the taxi, Junmyeon stepped out with you, his desperation finally bubbling over.
“Please, love,” he urged, “can you listen to me?” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
You doubted for a second, and then, you faced him. “For what exactly? Kissing me? Making me feel delusional? Or making me feel like a fool?”
“For not kissing you when you were sober.”
You looked at him with narrow eyes, wondering what was on his mind. “What?”
“I don’t regret the kiss, love, but I regret the timing. I mean… I should’ve done it hours ago.” He took a step closer, the slight height difference between you feeling more intimate than it ever had before. “Angel.” He made you feel small when he held both hands. “I really wanna kiss you right now. And tomorrow, and even after that, it still won’t be enough for me.”
“Junmyeon…”
“I know I ruined it tonight, but I want you to remember everything. Every second with me if that’s possible.” He placed one of your hands against his chest, right on the center of his heart. “See how nervous I am to even look at you.” He pressed your hand closer. “You really think I regret wanting you?”
“I just… I wanna be good for you,” he whispered, his breath hitching. “I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and wonder if an older man took advantage of you.”
“We’ve talked about it.”
“I know… I know you don’t care about my age, but,” he breathed, struggling. “It’s important to me. You’re so precious to me. I’m afraid that if I do something wrong, you’ll see me differently. I... I wanna be worthy of you, angel.”
You looked at him, focusing on the look of pure, unadulterated adoration that he couldn’t hide. On the way, his glasses fogged slightly at the edges from the cold night air and the heat of his own agitation.
“You’re worthy, Junmyeon.”
You reached out, your fingers curling firmly into the fabric of his shirt, and hauled him down toward you, pressing your lips to his with a grounding force, stopping him mid-sentence.
You felt the immediate jolt of his surprise, his body going rigid under your hands. “Angel, please…” he murmured against your lips, his voice breaking as he tried to maintain a shred of restraint. “You’re... you aren’t thinking straight. I shouldn’t—”
“I’ve never been clearer,” you whispered back, your breath ghosting over his skin as you tightened your grip on his clothes. “Stop being a gentleman for one second and just be mine.”
Junmyeon let out a shaky breath, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he looked at you with a mix of agony and want. “I’ve been trying so hard to be the man you deserve.” His forehead dropped against yours. “If I start… I won’t be able to stop.”
“Then don’t stop.”
You answered his doubt by tilting your head and deepening the kiss, your tongue grazing his lower lip. And Junmyeon lost the fight.
“Fuck,” he growled low, his hands finally snapping to your waist with a possessive strength that stole your breath.
Junmyeon pulled you flush against him as he kissed you back with a sudden, desperate hunger. The polite, restrained version of him was gone, finally letting himself feel everything he’d been bottling up since your first date.
Without breaking the kiss, you reached behind you, fumbling for the handle of your front door until it clicked open, and you hauled him inside into the dark hallway. The door slammed shut, muffled by the sound of your combined breaths. The kiss deepened into something primal—a desperate tangle of tongues and lips. Your hands were everywhere, frantic and sure, and when you finally pulled back just an inch to catch the air you both lacked, you saw his glasses had been knocked askew, his eyes dark and blown wide with a hunger he could no longer hide.
You didn’t give him a single second to protest. You grabbed the front of his shirt and backed toward your bedroom, leading him through the shadows. He kissed you again, following you like a man possessed, his hands finding your lower back, his fingers digging into your hips as if to anchor himself to the reality of you.
The moment your heels hit the rug of your bedroom, you pulled him back into you. You reached for the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling but determined.
“You’re sure?” he whispered against your jaw, his voice vibrating through your entire body. He reached up, his fingers trembling as he straightened his glasses just to look you in the eye.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart while your hands were moving.
His touch was both reverent and urgent as he peeled his jacket away from you—the one he’d draped over your shoulders the moment you stepped out into the night air.
The heavy fabric fell to the floor, leaving your neck and shoulders bare. Junmyeon let out a jagged breath at the sight of you. He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive curve where your neck met your shoulder.
“God... you’re so beautiful,” he groaned against your skin.
His hands moved with a slow, agonizing deliberation, sliding the thin braces of your dress off your shoulders. You felt the cool air for only a second before his open-mouth kisses followed the new path of exposed skin. Your head fell back, your fingers diving into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.
One of his hands shifted, sliding down your hip and tracing slowly upward along the bare skin of your thigh. The touch was possessive, his palm hot against you. But as his hand moved higher, it met the hem of your dress. Junmyeon turned you around with a firm, possessive hand on your waist, his breath hot against the bare skin of your spine. You felt his fingers find the zipper of your dress. He didn’t let the dress fall yet. Instead, he pressed a row of lingering, worshipful kisses along your shoulder blades.
“My gorgeous angel.” His hands slid around to your front, tracing the curve of your waist beneath the loosened fabric. “I wanna know every inch of you.”
You turned back into his arms, your dress now a loose barrier held up only by the pressure of your bodies. You looked up at him, seeing a man who was utterly, hopelessly undone by you.
“I’m yours.”
Junmyeon caught your lips in a kiss that tasted of pure need, his hand sliding upward along your thigh, finally finding the bare skin he’d been craving. With one fluid motion, he guided you back until you hit the edge of the mattress, his body following yours down as the last of the barriers finally gave way.
Junmyeon didn’t stop at your neck; he traced a path of fire down to your collarbone, his lips pressing bruised kisses against the bone. You arched into him, your fingers fumbling blindly with the last buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel his chest against yours.
“You’re so perfect.” His voice hitched as he moved lower.
His mouth found the soft curve of your boobs, his lips grazing the delicate skin. The heat of his breath seeped into your skin when his tongue met you, nipping at the swell of you, his teeth grazing your nipples with a hunger that made your toes curl.
“Jun, please,” you gasped, finally shoving his shirt off his shoulders, sliding your fingertips across his back.
“I have you, angel,” he murmured, his glasses nearly sliding off as he buried his face in the valley of your chest. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”
Junmyeon slid lower, his hands gripping your waist with a bruising intensity as he leaned down to bite the soft skin of your hip. The sharp sting of his teeth made you whimper, your fingers clutching the bedsheets as you watched him move between your legs.
You were past the point of patience, your voice breaking as you started to beg, but the words died in your throat. His tongue suddenly slid over the damp silk of your panties, tracing the length of your slit through the fabric.
“Fuck—you’re so wet.”
You let out a jagged, high-pitched gasp, your body trembling with a violent shock of pleasure. Before you could even find your breath, Junmyeon’s fingers hooked into the lace and took the fabric off. Immediately, he melted between your legs, his mouth finding you with a messy, possessive hunger that was completely devoid of restraint.
“Ah—Junmyeon!”
You curved your spine, your head thrashing against the pillows as you moaned his name loudly. Even in the darkness, the view was staggeringly hot. Junmyeon was on his knees, taking your heels away, and then, he shoved your legs up and over his shoulders to get deeper, to get closer.
He devoured you, the sounds of his tongue and his own low, answering moans filling the room. He was eating you out as a man possessed, his hands roaming upward to catch your waist and pull you flush against his face.
“So fucking delicious.”
His tongue swiped upward again, more forceful this time, making you cry out and arch your back off the mattress. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him back down, and he went willingly, his mouth devouring your slit with a messy, frantic urgency, his nose buried in your clit, and his glasses had completely fogged over.
“Junmyeon!” you sobbed. “Please... I can’t... it’s too much.”
Even with his vision blurred by the steam on his lenses, he kept making out with your pussy. With two fingers, he spread your folds wide, exposing every sensitive, pulsing inch of you.
“I’m not done, angel.”
Junmyeon spat directly onto your cunt, making you gasp in surprise. He gave you no time to recover, his palm coming down in a sharp, stinging slap against your wet skin that made your hips bolt off the mattress.
“Fuck!” you shrieked, your voice cracking as the sensation sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to your core. “Jun—please!”
He chuckled, slapping you again, four times in a row. “Cute.”
His mouth was devouring your pussy all over again. The sound was filthy—the wet slurping of his tongue as he drank you in, his lips pulling at your clit until you were sobbing into the pillows. Just as you thought you couldn’t take another second, he drove two fingers deep inside you. The sudden fullness was staggering. He used his fingers to stretch you, mimicking the rhythm of his tongue as it found your clit with unerring, brutal precision.
“So tight around me,” he moaned against your skin, his voice muffled by the depth of his descent. “I can feel you shaking, love.”
“I—shit! I’m so close!” Your legs were shaking so violently that you couldn’t keep them still. In a desperate, instinctive move to ground yourself, you tried to clamp your thighs shut, pinning his head between your knees.
You heard Junmyeon let out a low chuckle against your thigh. He didn’t pull away; he only pushed deeper, his fingers curling inside you while his mouth trapped your clit in a possessive seal.
He was pushing you, testing the very edge of your sanity. Your voice broke into jagged, unrecognizable sounds as you fought—and failed—to resist the wave crashing over you.
“Junmyeon—oh god! I-I’m going to—” your sentence shattered into a scream as you came right against his tongue. You bucked, your body racking with tremors as you drenched his mouth and his searching fingers.
Junmyeon stayed right there, slurping and lapping up every drop of you, greedy, starving, until the violent shaking of your legs finally began to fade. He slid his fingers out slowly, before leaning in to press one last, lingering open-mouthed kiss to your swollen folds.
Junmyeon stood up, watching you through glasses that were finally starting to clear as the steam dissipated. His lips were a bruised, swollen red, and his chin glistened, bright with the evidence of your pleasure, lazily licking his own fingers clean, his eyes never leaving yours.
“So fucking delicious.”
Trembling and still reeling from the aftershocks, you crawled toward him across the mattress. You reached for the waistband of his pants, your hands shaking as you pressed a desperate kiss against his boner through the fabric.
Junmyeon let out a low growl, curving his lips. He let you work, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek with surprising tenderness as you shoved his pants and boxers down his legs. Your mouth watered at the sight of his cock—hard, pulsing, veiny, glistering with precum. You wrapped your hand around his length, stroking it as you leaned in to taste the tip.
“Fuck,” he groaned. “My angel’s so hungry, hmm?” His thumb slid from your lower lip into your mouth, looking directly at you.
You hummed in response, sucking his finger.
Junmyeon let out a soft chuckle. “Use that pretty mouth for me, love.”
After he removed his thumb, you leaned in, the tip of his cock grazing your lips before you finally took him inside. At first, you moved at your own rhythm, tasting him slowly, your tongue swirling around the head while you looked up at him through your lashes.
Junmyeon let out a jagged, breathless sound, his hand diving into your hair. His grip was firm and possessive as he guided your movements, helping you slide further down his length.
“Shit—you’re so good,” he chanted. “So damn pretty when you take what’s yours.”
You felt the moisture return between your legs, a fresh wave of heat drenching your thighs as you listened to him unravel. Every time you swallowed, every time your throat tightened around him, he let out a low, desperate moan, tightening his grip.
“Deep, angel. For me, hmm?” His fingers pulled you closer, his hips arching upward to meet your mouth. “Good girl.”
You tried to take every bit of him, your eyes watering as you pushed your limits, desperate to please him. You sucked him with a frantic, messy hunger, your hands roaming over his thighs. However, the need for oxygen became too much; you had to pull away, your chest heaving as you panted for air, leaving a long, silver thread of saliva connecting you to him.
Junmyeon was a sight of pure devastation, his chest rose and fell in time. “You’ve done so well for me, love,” he rasped. “Lay back.”
You hesitated for a heartbeat, your body humming with a stubborn need to keep worshiping him. Instead of pulling away, you leaned forward one last time, your tongue swirling over the tip in a slow, defiant lick.
Junmyeon let out a dark, breathy chuckle. “Still so greedy, huh?”
He leaned down and pressed a messy kiss against your lips, making you moan softly, tasting yourself on his lips. “Lemme give you what you deserve.” He kissed you again. “Lay back, angel.”
Junmyeon gently guided you back, his hands firm on your shoulders as he helped you lie across the center of the bed. Your legs were shaking so violently that you could barely keep them steady.
You lie there, eyes locked on him, watching as he circled his thumb over the head of his cock. “Jun—”
“Shh.” The sight of him sent a fresh jolt of heat through your core. You were so eager you could feel the ache in your bones, your legs parting instinctively to welcome him. “Lemme do everything, hmm?”
You nodded and watched him, completely submissive to the heat in his gaze. Junmyeon moved over you, positioned himself, the hot tip of his cock meeting your wet folds, teasing the entrance just for a second before he slid inside. He went slowly, with a deliberate, possessive steadiness that made you gasp, his body claiming yours inch by inch until he was buried deep.
“Fuck!” Your hands flew to his body, your fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back and shoulders, desperate to pull him even closer.
“Yes—you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice a jagged whisper.
You wanted to eliminate every bit of space between you. You could feel the scorched heat of his breath mixing with yours. Junmyeon’s hands didn’t stay still; they roamed your body, cupping your waist and your hips, his palms hot and demanding as he pressed himself deeper, anchoring you to him.
He leaned down, catching your lips in a messy, desperate kiss that tasted of everything you had done that night. You whimpered softly against his mouth, the sound vibrating between your locked lips as you felt the first, heavy surge of his hips.
Junmyeon began to move—a slow, grinding slide that made your head thrash against the pillow. His glasses were a blur of fog and silver light as he looked down at you, his face a mask of pure, concentrated need.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured between kisses, his thrusts gaining a possessive rhythm. “I’ve finally got you, love.”
The intensity reached a fever pitch, and the rhythmic friction of your bodies increased. Junmyeon reached up, his movements frantic as he tore his glasses from his face and tossed them onto the bed.
Junmyeon surged forward, his kisses traveling back to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin with an impossible depth. Every thrust was a claim, his hips driving so low that you felt him hitting your cervix, and then that spot—a deep, heavy ache that made your vision blur.
“Junmyeon—oh, shit!”You shrieked his name, your legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper, while your nails dug into the firm muscles of his back, leaving red crescents in their wake.
“Fuck—yes,” he groaned against your neck.
Your walls were rhythmically squeezing him, a tight, pulsing welcome that drew a jagged, broken groan from his throat. He buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, branding your collarbone with fresh hickeys that would surely be there in the morning. When he finally came back to your lips, his kiss was desperate, his teeth grazing yours as he fought the ultimate losing battle.
“I’m—I’m right there.” His voice was a scorched ruin. “Angel, shit—I’m gonna—"
“I’m close. Ah—Junmyeon!” you sobbed against his mouth, your body vibrating with the impending release.
You clenched around him, feeling him freeze for a split second, that lingering, rational side of him flaring up one last time. His muscles locked, his breath hitching in his chest as he prepared to pull out. But you tightened your legs around him, anchoring him to you, and moved your hips in a small, demanding circle.
He panicked. “Love—”
“Stay,” you whispered, the word a shattered plea. “End up inside... please, Junmyeon—stay.”
That was the final blow to his sanity. With a mix of wide-eyed panic and a surge of pure, unadulterated lust, Junmyeon lost the fight. He let out a loud, guttural moan, burying his face back into the heat of your neck as he shattered. He poured himself into you, his body racking with violent, heavy tremors that didn’t seem to stop.
The force of his release triggered your own. You climaxed with him, your head thrashing against the pillow, moaning, trembling to the sensation of him filling you. You were both completely ruined, collapsing into each other.
“Fuck—you’re going to be the death of me… I swear it,” he panted.
Your eyes remained shut, your breath still coming in shallow, jagged hitches as you held him. The weight of his body was a grounding comfort, but you could feel the stillness in him—his mind reeled a mile a minute. He pressed a singular, lingering kiss to the crook of your neck before he finally began to pull out.
“You okay, angel?” He moved with agonizing slowness, as if he were afraid you might break if he shifted too fast. He reached for your mouth, giving you a kiss so soft and tentative it felt like a ghost of the man who had just been devouring you.
You nodded and opened your eyes and saw it immediately—that flicker of panic and overthink.
You reached up, cupping his face, your thumbs grazing his cheekbones. “I’m okay. And I’m on the pill,” you whispered, curving your lips after giving him a kiss. The confession acted like a physical release for the tension in his shoulders.
He kissed you again, more firmly this time, though his voice was still a worried wreck. “I really did lose it, didn’t I?” he murmured, a mix of pride and sheepishness in his voice. “I promised to be a gentleman, and I ended up branding you.”
“I told you I didn’t want a gentleman tonight.” You gave him a peck that made him smile. “Also... it was the best sex I’ve ever had,” you confessed, your voice still a bit airy and light from the afterglow.
Junmyeon paused, shifting his weight so he wasn’t crushing you, but he didn’t let go. He pulled you flush against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “You were incredible, love. But it wasn’t just sex for me,” he corrected softly, his heart thudding a steady, rapid rhythm against your ear. “Not even close.”
You smiled against his skin, feeling the warmth of his words bloom in your chest. He began to pepper kisses everywhere he could reach—your forehead, your temple, the tip of your nose—his arms wrapped around you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.
“Is it... right?” he started, his voice uncharacteristically shy. Junmyeon hesitated, his fingers tracing patterns on your lower back. “It might sound corny for someone older than you to ask this? I mean… I want you to be mine. Officially. I’d like you to be my girlfriend. Is it too soon?”
You bolted upright, your eyes wide and shimmering with a bright, startled joy. You didn’t give him a chance to overthink again. You dove at him, showering his face in kisses, over and over until he was laughing breathlessly beneath you.
“Yes!” you breathed between kisses. “A thousand times, yes! Y’know I don’t care about that, Junmyeon.” You paused, a mischievous glint entering your eyes as you leaned in to whisper against his ear. “Besides, after what you just did to me…” Your fingertip formed circles over his chest. “I don’t think you’re that old.”
Junmyeon let out a bright, melodic laugh at your teasing, the sound rich and relieved as it filled the quiet bedroom. He shook his head, a playful glint returning to his eyes. “Is that so? Alright, I’ll have to make sure I live up to those perks every single day then,” he countered, nipping playfully at your lower lip before melting back into you.
He peppered your face with soft, worshipful kisses. “My girlfriend,” he murmured against your lips, then again against your cheek. “My beautiful, incredible girlfriend.”
You couldn’t stop the wide, giddy smile from taking over your face. You reached out, trying to hook your arms around his neck to pull him back down for more.
“As much as I want to stay exactly like this,” he teased, his gaze drifting down to the tangled mess you had both become, “We’re a disaster, angel.”
You laughed, reaching blindly across the tangled sheets until your fingers brushed against cold metal. You pulled his glasses into view and carefully slid them back onto the bridge of his nose. As the frames settled, his eyes came back into sharp focus, full of a warmth that made your stomach flip.
You reached up, pulling him down by his jaw for a slow, lingering kiss. “Well,” you whispered against his mouth, “shower and cuddles, then?”
Junmyeon didn’t wait for another word. In one fluid, surprisingly strong motion, he tucked his arms under you and lifted you into his chest. You let out a small squeak of surprise, clinging to his shoulders, both giggling and kissing as he carried you toward the bathroom.
+ Band of Brothers Cereal Choices and Moral Alignment
Dick Winters:
Cheerios or Raisin Bran. Something classic, plain (read: "BORING" by George Luz), efficient, and nutritionally defensible. Always uses a normal bowl and spoon. NEVER eats directly from the box on principle. Would NEVER leave the bag open, or rip it open with his bare hands. Cut accurately with scissors and then folded over neatly in two. Dick Winters is the reason why cereal clips exist. Somehow opens the top in that perfect way where the slots actually line up and aren't half ripped open.
Lewis Nixon:
Does not “do cereal." May or may not having jokingly called it "poor people food" once or twice. However, still has one stale box of something hideously overpriced from some health food aisle he got once hungover when he thought he was turning over a new leaf. He was not turning over a new leaf. It now lives in his snack drawer, along with any health products he previously got hungover, and are no longer acknowledged on principle. Breakfast is NOT cereal. Breakfast is coffee. Maybe toast. Maybe regret. If forced, he eats the stale dry granola with the energy of a twice-divorced raccoon. Never for breakfast; only late at night when all the Uber Eats restaurants are closed, and only after sad drinking and watching TV movies for six hours.
Carwood Lipton:
Honey Nut Cheerios, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. Completely different than just plain Cheerios. Dependable. Pleasant. Has a backup box because he noticed the first one was low. Also has real milk, oat milk, and probably bananas cut happily on top, because he uses "real milk" when he's feeling "trim," and oat milk when he's feeling "bloated." But low key would never admit it: would just make the milk switch. Too southern to deal with people in his life calling him a "blue haired lesbian" for preferring the oat milk over regular milk, so just gets on with his business with it and never comments on the milk either way.
Joe Liebgott:
Corn Flakes, Rice Krispies, or something aggressively unfancy. One may think frosted corn flakes, but he adds the sugar himself because he doesn't trust the cereal manufacturer to do it "evenly" for him. Complains that sweet cereal is for children, then eats half a bowl of Lucky Charms someone left dry on the counter while standing.
George Luz:
Cinnamon Toast Crunch. No hesitation. Leaves cinnamon dust on the counter, denies it, then makes a courtroom-level argument that cereal is technically soup. Also mixes cereals because he believes in narrative tension. Will only start eating his "cereal" once the sugar has infected the milk in the bowl. Any one else tries it, they will genuinely get sick from the sweetness levels.
Babe Heffron:
Lucky Charms. Picks out extra marshmallows and then looks wounded if accused. Eats cereal at midnight. The milk turns pastel and he acts like this is a feature, not a crime.
Doc Roe:
Oatmeal. Not exactly cereal, but spiritually correct. If boxed cereal, maybe plain Rice Chex. Something gentle, quiet, and unlikely to cause trouble. Has honey and tea on the side. Has a bowl that looks chipped but beloved, and a very specific spoon that he doesn't make a big deal about, but is clearly the "cereal spoon" and everything else just feels functionally off.
Ron Speirs:
Plain shredded wheat, eaten with no visible pleasure. The box sits in his cupboard like evidence. If anyone asks if he likes it, he says, “It’s food.” Horrifying.
Bill Guarnere:
Frosted Flakes. Loudly defends them. Says, “They’re great,” because they are and that's "the fucking slogan and they fucking mean it." Uses too much milk so the poor Frosted Flakes are swimming. Drinks the cereal milk from the bowl without apology while tipping it back while making everyone else vaguely uncomfortable while doing so. Calls everyone else pretentious.
Frank Perconte:
Froot Loops, but keeps a sensible adult cereal nearby as a decoy. Worries about cereal going stale and then eats it too fast, swears off it for two weeks, then rinse and repeat.
David Webster:
Small-batch granola in a brown paper bag, or muesli from a pretentious overpriced organic whole foods store. Has opinions about texture. Says something about “not wanting dessert for breakfast,” then puts honey on it anyway. Owns Greek yogurt and makes everyone feel accused by using this instead of a traditional "milk and boxed cereal" combo. (Luz: "WE GET IT YOU'RE HEALTHY").
Don Malarkey:
Honey Bunches of Oats. Comfortable, normal, quietly excellent. Will slice a banana into it. Probably grew up with a favourite cereal bowl, and still believes breakfast should be sat down to and nice, not just shovelled in. Quietly adorable.
Skip Muck:
Cookie Crisp. Or Reese’s Puffs. Something that implies a child was left unsupervised with purchasing power, and anything that will make you hurl in large quantities. Eats it while standing in the kitchen making plans that will inconvenience everyone.
Alex Penkala:
Cocoa Pebbles. Enables Skip. Leaves the box open. Makes chocolate milk out of the aftermath and calls it innovation.
Buck Compton:
Protein cereal or Special K with berries. Something vaguely athletic but still edible. Eats standing up after a run, which is annoying but on-brand.
Floyd Talbert:
Honeycomb or Golden Grahams. Charming cereal. Looks weirdly attractive eating cereal, which should not be possible. Leaves one bowl in the sink and assumes someone will forgive him for not properly washing it or putting it in a dishwasher because they usually do. Spiers hates him for it and calls it "entitled."
Shifty Powers:
Corn Chex, oatmeal squares, or Cheerios with sliced fruit. Peaceful. Normal. Pours the right amount of milk. Has never made cereal weird in his life, which makes him uniquely powerful in this weird cast of characters.
Johnny Martin:
Plain shredded wheat. No sugar. Maybe a banana if he is feeling festive. Thinks cereal mascots are "a sign of social decline."
Bull Randleman:
Wheaties or Raisin Bran Crunch. Big bowl. Practical. Eats before doing something physically useful. If a child offers him sugary cereal, he will accept it solemnly.
Harry Welsh:
Cap’n Crunch. Destroys the roof of his mouth and acts surprised every time. Also the most likely to pour Bailey’s into cereal as a joke and then consider it.
