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Doctor glanced up from his leather-bound journal, the pen still poised between his long, dexterous fingers. His eyes, even though behind the cyan lenses, flicked over to where you sat, perched upon his lap with a soft, almost imperceptible shiver. He probably smirked beneath his mask.

He set the pen down carefully. For a moment, he turned his attention to your petite figure nestled against him. "The chill is getting to you. How thoughtful of your Doctor to keep you warm, isn't it?" he murmured, as if mocking you.

One clawed hand slid possessively over your thigh, giving a gentle, warning squeeze before he returned to writing whatever he was working on.

You just couldn't hold a little whimper, letting out the faint sound. Doctor's eyes sharpened at the soft, needy sound that escaped your lips. "Your body betrays you, dear."

Sensing the slightest shift of your hips, the way your tight heat clenched around his cock, he leaned closer, until the beak of his mask brushed the shell of your ear. "You're not quite trembling from the cold, are you sweetie?"

For some extremely dumb reason, you felt a little too bold. And so, slowly, you shifted the Doctor's hood and his collar and bit his neck, probably not even realizing what exactly you're doing.

Doctor inhaled sharply, the sudden bite to his neck catching him off guard. Normally so self-controlled, the way your tiny teeth sank into his skin sent a jolt of pain mixed with a weak surge of pleasure through him. But it was the breathy little moan that followed, the way your hips shifted and teased his shaft again, that made his patience snap.

In an instant, the tables have turned. His hands, dropping the pen on the floor, gripped your thighs, clawed fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave distinct red marks. He hauled you flush against him, pinning you to his desk, not even paying attention to all the papers that are now a complete mess on both the desk and the floor.

"Such brazen behavior, sweetie..." he scolded, voice deceptively gentle with his usual rough accent. "Why did you think you could do that without any consequences? Or... did you, perhaps, do it just because of that? Naughty."

He rolled his hips up into yours roughly, making no secret of his growing arousal. The moment he drove his shaft into your heat, a little bump formed on your stomach, showing just how small you were against him. And, of course, he noticed that. You suddenly arched your back slightly with a pathetic moan, trying oh so hard to muffle it with your free hand, hungry for his attention. One hand slid up your body, long fingers wrapping subtly around your throat. He didn't squeeze, but the unspoken threat hung heavy in the charged air as he felt your quickened pulse.

Doctor's gaze finally zeroed in on the subtle bulge now visible through your stomach, where his thrusts had forced his massive shaft to create a tangible contour along your smaller frame. His eyes widened briefly behind the mask as the lenses turned red for a couple of seconds before returning to the usual cyan.

Unbidden, his grip on your thighs tightened further, fingers kneading almost roughly into your soft flesh as he ground his hips more insistently against yours. The breathless little moan you choked off behind your hand only spurred him on, a low growl rumbling from low in his throat.

Punctuating his rougher thrusts, one large hand slid from your throat to pin both of yours above your head, holding them firmly in place. The other brushed almost teasingly down your front, tracing the dip and curve of your waist, before boldly cupping and squeezing the subtle swell that marked his possession of your depths.

"Look at that," he whispered, voice a sinful purr. "My cock is splitting you open... I think I'd like to hear all your adorable little cries, sweetie."

Doctor shuddered as your choked cry echoed through his study. The desperate, pleading tone sent a bolt of lust straight to his aching cock. He couldn't hold back the spine-shuddering groan that tumbled from his lips. His sadly grocer, rough, and powerful thrusts grew harder and faster, resonating through your slender body.

He tightened his grip on your wrists, holding you down with unyielding strength as he panted out an approval. "Yes, let your Doctor hear all those needy little noises..."

His palm slid boldly over the tender bulge, kneading and squeezing the way he was claiming your most intimate places. Each punishing thrust made it bounce and shift obscenely in his grip, and he was obsessed with that.

Doctor's control shattered utterly at the tantalizing wiggle of your hips, goading him with each sinful roll that made your supple body jiggle and bounce. His lenses turned red again, clearly showing his dangerous excitement.

With a feral snarl, he hilted himself to the base inside of you, the thick head of his cock battering your cervix. One hand remained a vise around your wrists, while the other raked down your front to grip the flesh of your hip. He used his new grip to yank your harder against him, slamming his cock into you with savage force.

Doctor lost himself in the mindless pursuit of pleasure, each thrust resonating through your trembling body with the force of his lust. The obscene squelch of your dripping arousal and the rhythmic slapping of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by his ragged, inhaling pants and your choked, mewling cries.

"D-Doc!!", you called out, as if it was going to help you in any way.

Doctor could only groan in response to your desperate cry, feeling absolutely drunk on the way your velvet heat clenched and squeezed, as if trying to milk him for all he was worth. Emboldened by your wanton reaction, he slowed his fierce thrusts ever so slightly, his clawed thumb finding that sensitive bud hidden in your folds.

A single, wicked chuckle escaped him as he rubbed merciless circles over your clit, matching the brutal pace of his renewed thrusts. "Cum for me, sweetie."

Nearly feral in his pursuit of climax now, Doctor felt the primal urge to expose his fangs surge at the inviting sight of your slender throat, bared so temptingly before him. With a guttural growl, he wrenched up his plague doctor mask just enough to reveal the mouthful of gleaming, razor-sharp teeth as he leaned down.

At the same moment, he thrust particularly hard, slamming his cock as deep as physically possible. As your scream of release sang through the air, he sank his fangs deep into the tender flesh of your throat, muffling his own shout of climax against the sweet, crimson seal of his claiming.

His clawed fingers dug into the soft skin and hard muscle of your hip with bruising force as he ground against you, his pulsing cock spurting jet after thick, molten jet of his seed directly into your battered, spasming womb.

Doctor shuddered intensely as a possessive shudder ripped through his entire being at the exquisite sensation of filling his sweet little You utterly full and complete with his release.

Panting harshly, he licked his lips, savoring the lingering metallic tang of your blood. With a shuddering groan, he reluctantly retracted his fangs from your neck, his laudatory lick soothing the angry red imprint blooming on your pale skin. As he rose, he was already wearing his mask again, you didn't even notice when he put it back on.

His grip on your hip gentled only slightly as his other hand released your wrists, seeking instead to caress the slender column of your throat, now so horribly enticing with his claiming mark. He cupped your jaw tenderly and tilted your face towards him until his hidden gaze locked on you.

"Such a good girl," Doctor praised lowly. "Took your Doctor so well, sweetie... How are you feeling?"

The Hanks were by no means artists, most they could draw were stick figures. However, their degrees required an art credit, which they had been putting off until senior year. Posed with two options, the Hanks collectively decided to participate in the same class: Life Drawing.

"Why do we keep drawing fucking apples?" grumbles Hank 4, staring daggers into the plastic fruit in the center of the classroom.

"I don't know, man. Just finish your piece so we can go on break," replies Hank 1, whose drawing of the apple was somewhat realistic.

It takes a good half an hour with the apple drawing before the professor called for a break. The Hanks exit the classroom and made a beeline for the vending machine, famished after hours of drawing in place.

"I can't wait for this class to be over," sighed Hank 2, as he purchased a soda from the drink machine. It dispensed the drink with a low bang and the spiky haired man grabbed it, walking to the nearby water foundation to open the can. It explodes in his grasp, the liquid pouring down the drain.

"Half a semester remains, my dudes... but trust me, we shall prevail," Hank 5 reassures his homies with a smile. He too purchases a soda and repeats the same process Hank 2 did.

"Excuse me," a voice greets the Hanks.

They look around for the source of the voice, finding you hovering by them with a tiny, nervous smile. You give them a wave and request, "Mind if I squeeze through? I totally need a drink and a snack right now."

"Right this way, gorgeous!" Hank 3- the one closest to the machines- steps away to make room for you. You hum a tune to yourself while making your purchases, the Hanks' eyes lingering on your form. The five of them exchange similar looks, mentally agreeing on one thing and one thing only.

You're hot.

"Thank you," you make your way through the Hanks with a water and some chips in hand, "Oh! Before I forget, is Room 321 nearby?"

The Hanks blink at you, surprised. That's their classroom.

"Oh, uh- Yeah, dude!" Hank 4 exclaims, toothy grin proudly on display.

"It's down the hall on the left," answers Hank 1 with a similar grin.

"Cool, thank you!" you give them each a nod of gratitude and skitter off for the classroom, disappearing from their sight.

Hank 5 clutches his soda tight, a warm blush on his sepia cheeks. Normally, one or more Hanks would tease him for being so flustered, but that would be hypocritical of them to do now, given that the four others sport similar flushed states.

"We uh... We should head back to class," suggests Hank 2, downing his soda in one gulp. The others nod in agreement and jog back to the room before the break concludes. More students file inside after them and everyone takes their seats before their easels, as the professor- ironically named Professor Artt- closes the door, "Good afternoon, students! I hope you all had a great break."

The Hanks look around the room for you, but don't find you. Maybe you had to drop something off to the professor and that was it?

"As you all are aware, we've been focused on drawing still life pieces with fruits and plants-"

"Oh, so aware," sighs Hank 3 under his breath, earning a muffled snicker from Hank 4 beside him.

"-But I believe now is a good time to announce what would be our latter half of the semester... drawing human beings!" proclaims Professor Artt, "With our lovely model-"

The door to the supply room suddenly swings open, revealing you standing in a fluffy robe. Professor Artt does jazz hands towards you and introduces you to the class, "They will be our model for the remainder of the semester. Since we all are adults here, I expect everyone to be respectful and civil with our honored guest. No funny business, alright?"

A few murmurs of understanding erupt through the classroom, as the Hanks stare at you with slacked jaws. You notice their staring and wave at them; Professor Artt then notices and flashes the five a strained smile, a silent warning of No funny business.

You approach the center of the room- where the plastic flowers or fruits would normally stand- and disrobe, revealing a tight bodysuit. It highlights your assets well, the fabric tense against your chest and barely covering your ass. Your lips curl up into a smirk at the flabbergasted expressions on the class's faces, "Never seen someone in a bodysuit? I know everyone here has seen more than just this, so don't be shy."

Hank 3 opens his mouth to make a comment, but Hank 2 slaps a hand over his mouth to spare everyone the embarrassment and cringe.

"Now then, let's get into-" Professor Artt goes off on a tangent about the assignment, but none of the Hanks are paying attention to him. No, their attention is squarely on you, which you notice and return their stares with a cheeky wink and mouth aloud, 'Pay attention!'

The Hanks snap back in time to get the gist of the professor's instructions. Professor Artt once more claps his hands together and class resumes with the task at hand, identifying and sketching the different parts of the human body.

Class goes by in a flash; usually, students would sprint out of the classroom upon dismissal, but everyone's attention seems to be on you, as numerous people crowd around you like fans.

"Are you a student here?" Holly, a festively dressed student, asks.

"Yup! I'm a senior," you answer.

"What made you wanna model here?" questions Chance, a student in G&G merch from head to toe.

"Oh, I've always been a model," you hum, adjusting your hold on your backpack, "I just took a break from the professional scene to get my degree... but I didn't want to get too rusty, so I applied to be a live model with the art department."

Your response only causes more curiosity, as the students swarm and bombard you with questions. You bite your bottom lip, overwhelmed by the overlapping voices. However, your escape comes in the form of someone shouting:

"Hey, leave them alone!"

All eyes fall on the voice's owner, Hank 1 posing before the group like Superman. Meanwhile, Hanks 2 and 5 appear beside you and sneakily guide you out of the classroom. Hanks 3 and 4 then appear and hide you behind the four of them, as students pour out of the classroom on the hunt for you.

"Thanks, guys..." you exhale to the Hanks, emerging from their protective wall once the students lost track of you, "I didn't think people would be that interested in me."

"Who wouldn't be? You're a snacc," chuckles Hank 3, only to yelp when Hank 1 smacks the back of his head.

You let out a snort, "At least buy me lunch-" your smile falters, "Shit! I don't even know your names. What are they?"

"Hank!" the five of them answer.

"Hank... all of you are Hank?" you frown, "How do people tell you apart then?"

"Numbers are kickass!" replies Hank 4.

The Hanks launch into their introduction, complete with their cheesy poses. By the end of it, you're laughing like a madman, tears of joys in the corners of your eyes. Once you calm down, you respond, "Numbers are kickass, huh?"

"You know it, homie!" Hank 2 nods.

"So you're gonna be with us for the rest of the semester?" Hank 5 inquires, brushing a loose wave of hair behind his ear.

"That's the plan," you hum, "Guess you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you? No, you're stuck with us," Hank 1 laughs.

"Yeah, dude! You seem pretty rad," comments Hank 4.

"And we're treating you to lunch," adds Hank 5.

"We are?" whispers Hank 3 to the brunet.

"Don't you wanna get to know them better?" he whispers back to the redhead, who scratches his facial hair in reflection before nodding in agreement.

"Got any suggestions for lunch?" you ask the Hanks.

The five of them exchange mischievous glances, smiles forming each of their faces.

"We know just the place."

You enjoy a lovely lunch at a restaurant called Akira Ramen and Izakaya and the Hanks went all out on the meal, ordering an assortment of foods and drinks. You decide to order a shrimp tempura ramen with a strawberry soda and fall in love with your meal, making a mental note to return to the restaurant again soon. By the end of the lunch, everyone is stuffed and tired, but happy.

"God, that was the best lunch I've ever had," you sigh with content.

"Oh, it's a gem! We got every Friday after practice," answers Hank 1.

"What sport?" you ask.

"Lacrosse!" replies Hank 4.

"We're all on athlete scholarships," Hank 2 adds on.

"Wow," you chuckle, "Guess I need to go to a game sometime soon."

"That would be totally rad if you did," Hank 5 beams.

You open your mouth to respond, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. Taking it from your pocket, you see that your agent is calling you.

"Hello?" you accept the call, taking a few steps away from the Hanks in the courtyard outside the restaurant.

"Darling! Glad you answered!" your agent- Paris- shouts over the line, "I have great news for you."

"What is it?" you press your lips together, somewhat nervous.

"I secured you a shoot with one of the top retailers in the nation, darling!"

"What?" you almost drop your phone, "Paris, you know that I'm-"

"Darling, do not worry about that. The shoot is only fifteen-ish minutes from your apartment. It would be over spring break, so it wouldn't interfere with your schedule."

You go silent, processing all the information your agent has given you.

"Soooo... do you accept?"

"Send the contract over and I'll sign it."

"That's my darling!" Paris cheers, "See you in a few weeks!"

The call ends and you slump onto the nearest surface, the concrete pillars that surround the courtyard's flower beds. You let out a frustrated huff and cover your face in your hands.

"Hey there, you alright?"

You perk up at the voice and put your hands down, coming face to face with Hank 5. The other Hanks hover a foot or two away from him, not wanting to crowd you.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you exhale, "Just my agent going over my head with some stuff, no biggie."

"I don't know, that sounds like a bit of a biggie, dude," comments Hank 1, as he takes a seat beside you. The remaining Hanks nod in agreement and find places to sit or stand near you.

"She wasn't that excited when I took her that I was going on hiatus with modeling," you confess, "She doesn't want me to waste my talent and that 'everyone has a degree, not everyone has the beauty or skill to wow the world like you' or something like that."

The Hanks exchange frowns, unsure what to say.

"I've been modeling since I was a baby," you lean against Hank 4, who's sitting on your left, "Gerber, Old Navy, Sephora, you name it. I'm grateful that I have what it takes to be a model- a successful model- but I feel... unreal."

"Unreal?" Hank 2 chimes in.

"That I'm just a face or a body on a magazine, not a real person with hopes and dreams," you elaborate.

On your right, Hank 1 takes your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. You straighten yourself up and turn to him, bewildered by his action.

"Do you feel that?" he inquires.

"Yeah... why?" you reply.

"That makes you're real, homie."

Your heart flutters, eyes widen and cheeks growing warm. One by one, the other Hanks put a hand on you and stare at you with nothing but care and kindness.

"You're real."

Tears swell up in your eyes and you leap into Hank 1's arms, embracing him. You beckon the other Hanks to enjoy and soon, you're swarmed by five muscular men in an amazing group hug.

"You guys are so awesome," you giggle after the hug.

"Of course we are, sweetheart! We're the Hanks!" cheers Hank 3.

"Haha, yeah, we're the Hanks!" Hank 4 echoes the redhead's sentiment with a toothy grin.

"I have a weird question," you fiddle with your shirt, to which the Hanks go silent and wait for you to ask it, "Would you guys like to come to my shoot with me?"

The Hanks look at you with huge eyes and slacked jaws, awestruck written clearly on their faces.

"YES!!!" they yell in unison, scaring a few attendees in the courtyard.

"Then it's a date," you hand over your phone to the Hanks, "Gimme your numbers and I'll send you the details, okay?"

The Hanks input their contact information and assign an emoji to their name that corresponded to their signature color. You make a group chat and send the five of them a waving emoji.

"By the way," Hank 5 whispers to you after he puts his number in your phone, "We're definitely hanging out in the meantime."

"Y'all better," you whisper back with a grin.

Over the next few weeks, you get close with the Hanks through your time modeling in their art classes and outside hangouts. Their energy is infectious and you find yourself becoming attached to these five crazy himbos. The Hanks’ dynamic as a group is nothing you’ve ever seen before, they remind you of a hivemind in which they just get one another on a subconscious level.

Soon, the day of the photoshoot arrives and Hank 1 insists on driving everyone to the shoot location in his beat up van, dubbed The Adrenaline Den. When you hop inside, you can see how lived in the van is with lots of blankets, pillows, and miscellaneous trinkets scattered about.

“Buckle up, folks! No need to fly out the way on this drive,” the man with the dreadlocks reminds the group.

Once everyone was buckled in, Hank 1 plugs in the address you gave him and revs the minivan up, the engine roaring to life with a gentle purr. The van exits the campus parking lot and heads for the photoshoot.

“How are you feeling?” Hank 5- who’s sitting on your right- asks in a low voice, concern evident in his eyes.

“I’m doing alright,” you nod at him, “I’m glad to have you all with me for this.”

Hank 5 smiles, “We’re glad to be with you for this.”

The rest of the drive is spent with Dad Rock music, courtesy of Hank 1’s taste and final say on music as the driver. You and the Hanks chat about a plethora of topics to pass the time.

“I’m just saying, werewolves are way cooler than vampires,” huffs Hank 4.

“Vampires are immortal, dude. That’s like… way better than werewolves,” comments Hank 3.

Hank 4’s about to rebuke, but the minivan comes to a stop and Hank 1 announces your arrival to the photoshoot. Before all of you stands a grand building, shiny and sleek. A familiar woman stands outside the entrance and her eyes light up when she sees you exit the minivan.

“Darling! There you are, right on schedule!” Paris pecks both of your cheeks in the air, her way of showing affection, “Right this way, we have lots to do-” she pauses when she sees the Hanks, “And these are..?”

“My friends,” you reply, “Here for emotional support since this is my first professional shoot in awhile.”

“Well, as long as they behave themselves, they’ll be able to say,” hums Paris, eyeing the Hanks up with scrutiny. The Hanks straighten their poses and salute, earning a chuckle from your agent, “Very well, let’s head inside.”

You enter the building and admire its fancy design, as your group approaches the front desk. Paris converses with the receptionist and obtains a key card. She then leads you to the elevators and taps the card, activating the elevator. The seven of you hop in and Paris presses the button for the 21st floor.

“Now, remember, darling. You are beauty, you are grace, you will punch the haters in the face,” your agent repeats her go to mantra to you.

“I’m beauty, I’m grace, I’ll punch the haters in the face,” you copy back.

The elevator soon dings and opens its doors. Yet, the moment you exit the elevator, a frazzled woman with wild curls tied back in a ponytail runs up to your group.

“OMG!” she exclaims, “You’re here, perfect!” the woman grabs your wrist, “Follow me to hair and makeup!”

You’re unable to say goodbye to the Hanks and Paris when you’re dragged off to get dolled up for the shoot. Within a minute, you arrive at hair and makeup, where the woman who brought you there introduces herself as Penelope, assistant to the photographer conducting the shoot.

You’re then greeted by three more familiar faces; Barry the makeup artist and Paris’s brother, Amir the hairstylist, and Clarence the fashion coordinator. In a flash, you’re sporting luscious hair and a makeup look so on point that someone would kill for it.

“Okay, what am I wearing?” you ask Clarence, as he flips through the various clothing bags on the rack.

“This cute little number,” he unzips one of the bags and steps aside, “Designed it myself, have a look.”

You walk up to the bag and take a peek, only for all the color to drain from your face. It’s a lingerie set.

“Are you okay?” Amir asks, noticing your stunned expression and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh…” you let out a cough, “I didn’t know this was a lingerie shoot.”

“Oh, dear!” Barry yelps, “Must’ve been a miscommunication, are you still okay with doing the shoot?”

You eye the lingerie, examining it; a deep cut bralette and g-string in baby pink lace. It’s cute, but the idea of the Hanks seeing you in this sends shivers down your spine.

“No, it’s okay,” you finally answer, “I can do the shoot, don’t worry.”

Amir, Barry, and Clarence exchange sighs of relief. You change into the lingerie behind the partition and step out to take a look of yourself in the mirror. You know you look good, but your nerves aren’t helping your confidence.

“Hello! Everythinf ready?” Penelope soon enters the room and inquires.

“All set,” you confirm.

“Awesome! Let’s get going!” she grins.

You follow Penelope down the hallway before going through the farthest door on the left. Inside, you see the camera equipment and backdrop, as well as people chatting among themselves. You don’t see Paris or the Hanks, but you’re sure that they’ll be arriving soon.

“There’s my star!” a new voice greets you, belonging to a voluptuous person in red and black with an eyepatch over their right eye, “It’s so nice to meet you in person, Paris has shared nothing but positive remarks about you.”

“Thank you, uh…” you wait for the person to share their name, to which they answer, “I’m Poe, the photographer for this shoot.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” the two of you exchange handshakes.

“You ready to slay?” Poe giggles.

“Always!” you smile widely.

Poe directs you over to the backdrop and requests a few different poses. You strike each one with ease, showing off to the camera. Poe praises your skill and snaps numerous photos.

You’re about to strike another pose when you see the Hanks enter the room. They look around for you and when they find you, their jaws drop to the floor. Your face heats up and you nearly fumble your next pose.

“Stop, stop,” Poe lowers their camera, “You alright?” they question to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reassure them, “Just, uh- lost my balance for a second.”

“Oh, okay!” they hold up their camera, “Let’s try that pose again.”

You attempt the same pose again, but you can feel the Hanks’ eyes on your body. Once again, you stumble through the pose and let out a frustrated exhale, “I’m- I’m sorry. I need to take five.”

You run out of the room before anyone could object and head for the unisex bathroom. After locking the door, you head for the sink and grip onto it for dear life, your heart beating hard.

You’re a professional! Why are you fumbling such a simple pose? you scold yourself, tears threatening to spill and ruin your makeup, You can’t let some boys get in the way of your work, you dumby!

You snap back to reality when you hear a knock on the door, “Hey, dude, you in there? It’s Hank,” the voice calling out to you belongs to Hank 2.

“Y- Yeah,” you sniffle, “Just need a second,” you dab the corners of your eyes with paper towel before leaving the bathroom.

All five Hanks are hovering by the entrance, their faces full of worry. You try to cover your exposed skin, but Hank 3 stops you by holding your hands.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” his voice is gentle and concerned, lacking the usual playfulness.

“You’re doing amazing with the shoot!” Hank 4 chimes in, giving you a pat on the back and a toothy grin.

“I’m in… I’m in lingerie,” you meekly confess to the Hanks. There’s a period of silence before Hank 1 speaks up, “So what?”

“So what?” you repeat back, bewildered.

“You look hot,” the redheaded Hank adds on.

“Really hot,” the blond Hank agrees.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Hank 5 rests a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it softly, “But please don’t worry… you’re beautiful, homie.”

“From your hair to your lips,” Hank 3 cups one of your cheeks and smiles.

“From your curves to your dips,” Hank 2 takes your hand from the redhead and grips it with a smile.

“From your tummy to your hips,” Hank 1 takes you and gives you a spin.

“From your smile to your eyes,” Hank 4 pokes you on the nose.

“Everything about you is gorgeous,” Hank 5 concludes with a tense smile.

Your heart swells up from their kind words, unsure what you’re feeling. They look at you with nothing but adoration and fondness. Despite only being friends for a short period of time, the sparks of romance couldn’t be brushed aside. Do they feel the same way as you?

“You guys… Thank you,” you whisper and- with a burst of confidence- you kiss each of them on the lips, “I’m ready to go back.”

The Hanks stand idly, sporting lovestruck grins and blushing cheeks. You have to snap your fingers to get their attention, “Let’s go back!”

The Hanks nod in agreement and the six of you return to the photoshoot. Upon entrance, Penelope rushes up and lets out a worried huff, “There you are! God, we were worried that-” she cuts herself off and stares at your face.

“Something wrong?” you frown.

“Amir!” the photography assistant shouts, “We need to redo the lipstick, it’s all messed up!”

Indeed, your lipstick was messed up, the ruby red smeared while each Hank displays a light red tint to their lips.

“Try not to smooch on the job, okay?” Penelope comments.

“Yes, ma’am,” you and the Hanks reply with sheepish smiles.

Perhaps, that moment is the start of something new, something joyous.

The Hanks were by no means artists, most they could draw were stick figures. However, their degrees required an art credit, which they had been putting off until senior year. Posed with two options, the Hanks collectively decided to participate in the same class: Life Drawing.

"Why do we keep drawing fucking apples?" grumbles Hank 4, staring daggers into the plastic fruit in the center of the classroom.

"I don't know, man. Just finish your piece so we can go on break," replies Hank 1, whose drawing of the apple was somewhat realistic.

It takes a good half an hour with the apple drawing before the professor called for a break. The Hanks exit the classroom and made a beeline for the vending machine, famished after hours of drawing in place.

"I can't wait for this class to be over," sighed Hank 2, as he purchased a soda from the drink machine. It dispensed the drink with a low bang and the spiky haired man grabbed it, walking to the nearby water foundation to open the can. It explodes in his grasp, the liquid pouring down the drain.

"Half a semester remains, my dudes... but trust me, we shall prevail," Hank 5 reassures his homies with a smile. He too purchases a soda and repeats the same process Hank 2 did.

"Excuse me," a voice greets the Hanks.

They look around for the source of the voice, finding you hovering by them with a tiny, nervous smile. You give them a wave and request, "Mind if I squeeze through? I totally need a drink and a snack right now."

"Right this way, gorgeous!" Hank 3- the one closest to the machines- steps away to make room for you. You hum a tune to yourself while making your purchases, the Hanks' eyes lingering on your form. The five of them exchange similar looks, mentally agreeing on one thing and one thing only.

You're hot.

"Thank you," you make your way through the Hanks with a water and some chips in hand, "Oh! Before I forget, is Room 321 nearby?"

The Hanks blink at you, surprised. That's their classroom.

"Oh, uh- Yeah, dude!" Hank 4 exclaims, toothy grin proudly on display.

"It's down the hall on the left," answers Hank 1 with a similar grin.

"Cool, thank you!" you give them each a nod of gratitude and skitter off for the classroom, disappearing from their sight.

Hank 5 clutches his soda tight, a warm blush on his sepia cheeks. Normally, one or more Hanks would tease him for being so flustered, but that would be hypocritical of them to do now, given that the four others sport similar flushed states.

"We uh... We should head back to class," suggests Hank 2, downing his soda in one gulp. The others nod in agreement and jog back to the room before the break concludes. More students file inside after them and everyone takes their seats before their easels, as the professor- ironically named Professor Artt- closes the door, "Good afternoon, students! I hope you all had a great break."

The Hanks look around the room for you, but don't find you. Maybe you had to drop something off to the professor and that was it?

"As you all are aware, we've been focused on drawing still life pieces with fruits and plants-"

"Oh, so aware," sighs Hank 3 under his breath, earning a muffled snicker from Hank 4 beside him.

"-But I believe now is a good time to announce what would be our latter half of the semester... drawing human beings!" proclaims Professor Artt, "With our lovely model-"

The door to the supply room suddenly swings open, revealing you standing in a fluffy robe. Professor Artt does jazz hands towards you and introduces you to the class, "They will be our model for the remainder of the semester. Since we all are adults here, I expect everyone to be respectful and civil with our honored guest. No funny business, alright?"

A few murmurs of understanding erupt through the classroom, as the Hanks stare at you with slacked jaws. You notice their staring and wave at them; Professor Artt then notices and flashes the five a strained smile, a silent warning of No funny business.

You approach the center of the room- where the plastic flowers or fruits would normally stand- and disrobe, revealing a tight bodysuit. It highlights your assets well, the fabric tense against your chest and barely covering your ass. Your lips curl up into a smirk at the flabbergasted expressions on the class's faces, "Never seen someone in a bodysuit? I know everyone here has seen more than just this, so don't be shy."

Hank 3 opens his mouth to make a comment, but Hank 2 slaps a hand over his mouth to spare everyone the embarrassment and cringe.

"Now then, let's get into-" Professor Artt goes off on a tangent about the assignment, but none of the Hanks are paying attention to him. No, their attention is squarely on you, which you notice and return their stares with a cheeky wink and mouth aloud, 'Pay attention!'

The Hanks snap back in time to get the gist of the professor's instructions. Professor Artt once more claps his hands together and class resumes with the task at hand, identifying and sketching the different parts of the human body.

Class goes by in a flash; usually, students would sprint out of the classroom upon dismissal, but everyone's attention seems to be on you, as numerous people crowd around you like fans.

"Are you a student here?" Holly, a festively dressed student, asks.

"Yup! I'm a senior," you answer.

"What made you wanna model here?" questions Chance, a student in G&G merch from head to toe.

"Oh, I've always been a model," you hum, adjusting your hold on your backpack, "I just took a break from the professional scene to get my degree... but I didn't want to get too rusty, so I applied to be a live model with the art department."

Your response only causes more curiosity, as the students swarm and bombard you with questions. You bite your bottom lip, overwhelmed by the overlapping voices. However, your escape comes in the form of someone shouting:

"Hey, leave them alone!"

All eyes fall on the voice's owner, Hank 1 posing before the group like Superman. Meanwhile, Hanks 2 and 5 appear beside you and sneakily guide you out of the classroom. Hanks 3 and 4 then appear and hide you behind the four of them, as students pour out of the classroom on the hunt for you.

"Thanks, guys..." you exhale to the Hanks, emerging from their protective wall once the students lost track of you, "I didn't think people would be that interested in me."

"Who wouldn't be? You're a snacc," chuckles Hank 3, only to yelp when Hank 1 smacks the back of his head.

You let out a snort, "At least buy me lunch-" your smile falters, "Shit! I don't even know your names. What are they?"

"Hank!" the five of them answer.

"Hank... all of you are Hank?" you frown, "How do people tell you apart then?"

"Numbers are kickass!" replies Hank 4.

The Hanks launch into their introduction, complete with their cheesy poses. By the end of it, you're laughing like a madman, tears of joys in the corners of your eyes. Once you calm down, you respond, "Numbers are kickass, huh?"

"You know it, homie!" Hank 2 nods.

"So you're gonna be with us for the rest of the semester?" Hank 5 inquires, brushing a loose wave of hair behind his ear.

"That's the plan," you hum, "Guess you're stuck with me."

"Stuck with you? No, you're stuck with us," Hank 1 laughs.

"Yeah, dude! You seem pretty rad," comments Hank 4.

"And we're treating you to lunch," adds Hank 5.

"We are?" whispers Hank 3 to the brunet.

"Don't you wanna get to know them better?" he whispers back to the redhead, who scratches his facial hair in reflection before nodding in agreement.

"Got any suggestions for lunch?" you ask the Hanks.

The five of them exchange mischievous glances, smiles forming each of their faces.

"We know just the place."

You enjoy a lovely lunch at a restaurant called Akira Ramen and Izakaya and the Hanks went all out on the meal, ordering an assortment of foods and drinks. You decide to order a shrimp tempura ramen with a strawberry soda and fall in love with your meal, making a mental note to return to the restaurant again soon. By the end of the lunch, everyone is stuffed and tired, but happy.

"God, that was the best lunch I've ever had," you sigh with content.

"Oh, it's a gem! We got every Friday after practice," answers Hank 1.

"What sport?" you ask.

"Lacrosse!" replies Hank 4.

"We're all on athlete scholarships," Hank 2 adds on.

"Wow," you chuckle, "Guess I need to go to a game sometime soon."

"That would be totally rad if you did," Hank 5 beams.

You open your mouth to respond, but you're interrupted by your phone buzzing. Taking it from your pocket, you see that your agent is calling you.

"Hello?" you accept the call, taking a few steps away from the Hanks in the courtyard outside the restaurant.

"Darling! Glad you answered!" your agent- Paris- shouts over the line, "I have great news for you."

"What is it?" you press your lips together, somewhat nervous.

"I secured you a shoot with one of the top retailers in the nation, darling!"

"What?" you almost drop your phone, "Paris, you know that I'm-"

"Darling, do not worry about that. The shoot is only fifteen-ish minutes from your apartment. It would be over spring break, so it wouldn't interfere with your schedule."

You go silent, processing all the information your agent has given you.

"Soooo... do you accept?"

"Send the contract over and I'll sign it."

"That's my darling!" Paris cheers, "See you in a few weeks!"

The call ends and you slump onto the nearest surface, the concrete pillars that surround the courtyard's flower beds. You let out a frustrated huff and cover your face in your hands.

"Hey there, you alright?"

You perk up at the voice and put your hands down, coming face to face with Hank 5. The other Hanks hover a foot or two away from him, not wanting to crowd you.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you exhale, "Just my agent going over my head with some stuff, no biggie."

"I don't know, that sounds like a bit of a biggie, dude," comments Hank 1, as he takes a seat beside you. The remaining Hanks nod in agreement and find places to sit or stand near you.

"She wasn't that excited when I took her that I was going on hiatus with modeling," you confess, "She doesn't want me to waste my talent and that 'everyone has a degree, not everyone has the beauty or skill to wow the world like you' or something like that."

The Hanks exchange frowns, unsure what to say.

"I've been modeling since I was a baby," you lean against Hank 4, who's sitting on your left, "Gerber, Old Navy, Sephora, you name it. I'm grateful that I have what it takes to be a model- a successful model- but I feel... unreal."

"Unreal?" Hank 2 chimes in.

"That I'm just a face or a body on a magazine, not a real person with hopes and dreams," you elaborate.

On your right, Hank 1 takes your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. You straighten yourself up and turn to him, bewildered by his action.

"Do you feel that?" he inquires.

"Yeah... why?" you reply.

"That makes you're real, homie."

Your heart flutters, eyes widen and cheeks growing warm. One by one, the other Hanks put a hand on you and stare at you with nothing but care and kindness.

"You're real."

Tears swell up in your eyes and you leap into Hank 1's arms, embracing him. You beckon the other Hanks to enjoy and soon, you're swarmed by five muscular men in an amazing group hug.

"You guys are so awesome," you giggle after the hug.

"Of course we are, sweetheart! We're the Hanks!" cheers Hank 3.

"Haha, yeah, we're the Hanks!" Hank 4 echoes the redhead's sentiment with a toothy grin.

"I have a weird question," you fiddle with your shirt, to which the Hanks go silent and wait for you to ask it, "Would you guys like to come to my shoot with me?"

The Hanks look at you with huge eyes and slacked jaws, awestruck written clearly on their faces.

"YES!!!" they yell in unison, scaring a few attendees in the courtyard.

"Then it's a date," you hand over your phone to the Hanks, "Gimme your numbers and I'll send you the details, okay?"

The Hanks input their contact information and assign an emoji to their name that corresponded to their signature color. You make a group chat and send the five of them a waving emoji.

"By the way," Hank 5 whispers to you after he puts his number in your phone, "We're definitely hanging out in the meantime."

"Y'all better," you whisper back with a grin.

Over the next few weeks, you get close with the Hanks through your time modeling in their art classes and outside hangouts. Their energy is infectious and you find yourself becoming attached to these five crazy himbos. The Hanks’ dynamic as a group is nothing you’ve ever seen before, they remind you of a hivemind in which they just get one another on a subconscious level.

Soon, the day of the photoshoot arrives and Hank 1 insists on driving everyone to the shoot location in his beat up van, dubbed The Adrenaline Den. When you hop inside, you can see how lived in the van is with lots of blankets, pillows, and miscellaneous trinkets scattered about.

“Buckle up, folks! No need to fly out the way on this drive,” the man with the dreadlocks reminds the group.

Once everyone was buckled in, Hank 1 plugs in the address you gave him and revs the minivan up, the engine roaring to life with a gentle purr. The van exits the campus parking lot and heads for the photoshoot.

“How are you feeling?” Hank 5- who’s sitting on your right- asks in a low voice, concern evident in his eyes.

“I’m doing alright,” you nod at him, “I’m glad to have you all with me for this.”

Hank 5 smiles, “We’re glad to be with you for this.”

The rest of the drive is spent with Dad Rock music, courtesy of Hank 1’s taste and final say on music as the driver. You and the Hanks chat about a plethora of topics to pass the time.

“I’m just saying, werewolves are way cooler than vampires,” huffs Hank 4.

“Vampires are immortal, dude. That’s like… way better than werewolves,” comments Hank 3.

Hank 4’s about to rebuke, but the minivan comes to a stop and Hank 1 announces your arrival to the photoshoot. Before all of you stands a grand building, shiny and sleek. A familiar woman stands outside the entrance and her eyes light up when she sees you exit the minivan.

“Darling! There you are, right on schedule!” Paris pecks both of your cheeks in the air, her way of showing affection, “Right this way, we have lots to do-” she pauses when she sees the Hanks, “And these are..?”

“My friends,” you reply, “Here for emotional support since this is my first professional shoot in awhile.”

“Well, as long as they behave themselves, they’ll be able to say,” hums Paris, eyeing the Hanks up with scrutiny. The Hanks straighten their poses and salute, earning a chuckle from your agent, “Very well, let’s head inside.”

You enter the building and admire its fancy design, as your group approaches the front desk. Paris converses with the receptionist and obtains a key card. She then leads you to the elevators and taps the card, activating the elevator. The seven of you hop in and Paris presses the button for the 21st floor.

“Now, remember, darling. You are beauty, you are grace, you will punch the haters in the face,” your agent repeats her go to mantra to you.

“I’m beauty, I’m grace, I’ll punch the haters in the face,” you copy back.

The elevator soon dings and opens its doors. Yet, the moment you exit the elevator, a frazzled woman with wild curls tied back in a ponytail runs up to your group.

“OMG!” she exclaims, “You’re here, perfect!” the woman grabs your wrist, “Follow me to hair and makeup!”

You’re unable to say goodbye to the Hanks and Paris when you’re dragged off to get dolled up for the shoot. Within a minute, you arrive at hair and makeup, where the woman who brought you there introduces herself as Penelope, assistant to the photographer conducting the shoot.

You’re then greeted by three more familiar faces; Barry the makeup artist and Paris’s brother, Amir the hairstylist, and Clarence the fashion coordinator. In a flash, you’re sporting luscious hair and a makeup look so on point that someone would kill for it.

“Okay, what am I wearing?” you ask Clarence, as he flips through the various clothing bags on the rack.

“This cute little number,” he unzips one of the bags and steps aside, “Designed it myself, have a look.”

You walk up to the bag and take a peek, only for all the color to drain from your face. It’s a lingerie set.

“Are you okay?” Amir asks, noticing your stunned expression and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh…” you let out a cough, “I didn’t know this was a lingerie shoot.”

“Oh, dear!” Barry yelps, “Must’ve been a miscommunication, are you still okay with doing the shoot?”

You eye the lingerie, examining it; a deep cut bralette and g-string in baby pink lace. It’s cute, but the idea of the Hanks seeing you in this sends shivers down your spine.

“No, it’s okay,” you finally answer, “I can do the shoot, don’t worry.”

Amir, Barry, and Clarence exchange sighs of relief. You change into the lingerie behind the partition and step out to take a look of yourself in the mirror. You know you look good, but your nerves aren’t helping your confidence.

“Hello! Everythinf ready?” Penelope soon enters the room and inquires.

“All set,” you confirm.

“Awesome! Let’s get going!” she grins.

You follow Penelope down the hallway before going through the farthest door on the left. Inside, you see the camera equipment and backdrop, as well as people chatting among themselves. You don’t see Paris or the Hanks, but you’re sure that they’ll be arriving soon.

“There’s my star!” a new voice greets you, belonging to a voluptuous person in red and black with an eyepatch over their right eye, “It’s so nice to meet you in person, Paris has shared nothing but positive remarks about you.”

“Thank you, uh…” you wait for the person to share their name, to which they answer, “I’m Poe, the photographer for this shoot.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” the two of you exchange handshakes.

“You ready to slay?” Poe giggles.

“Always!” you smile widely.

Poe directs you over to the backdrop and requests a few different poses. You strike each one with ease, showing off to the camera. Poe praises your skill and snaps numerous photos.

You’re about to strike another pose when you see the Hanks enter the room. They look around for you and when they find you, their jaws drop to the floor. Your face heats up and you nearly fumble your next pose.

“Stop, stop,” Poe lowers their camera, “You alright?” they question to you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reassure them, “Just, uh- lost my balance for a second.”

“Oh, okay!” they hold up their camera, “Let’s try that pose again.”

You attempt the same pose again, but you can feel the Hanks’ eyes on your body. Once again, you stumble through the pose and let out a frustrated exhale, “I’m- I’m sorry. I need to take five.”

You run out of the room before anyone could object and head for the unisex bathroom. After locking the door, you head for the sink and grip onto it for dear life, your heart beating hard.

You’re a professional! Why are you fumbling such a simple pose? you scold yourself, tears threatening to spill and ruin your makeup, You can’t let some boys get in the way of your work, you dumby!

You snap back to reality when you hear a knock on the door, “Hey, dude, you in there? It’s Hank,” the voice calling out to you belongs to Hank 2.

“Y- Yeah,” you sniffle, “Just need a second,” you dab the corners of your eyes with paper towel before leaving the bathroom.

All five Hanks are hovering by the entrance, their faces full of worry. You try to cover your exposed skin, but Hank 3 stops you by holding your hands.

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” his voice is gentle and concerned, lacking the usual playfulness.

“You’re doing amazing with the shoot!” Hank 4 chimes in, giving you a pat on the back and a toothy grin.

“I’m in… I’m in lingerie,” you meekly confess to the Hanks. There’s a period of silence before Hank 1 speaks up, “So what?”

“So what?” you repeat back, bewildered.

“You look hot,” the redheaded Hank adds on.

“Really hot,” the blond Hank agrees.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Hank 5 rests a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it softly, “But please don’t worry… you’re beautiful, homie.”

“From your hair to your lips,” Hank 3 cups one of your cheeks and smiles.

“From your curves to your dips,” Hank 2 takes your hand from the redhead and grips it with a smile.

“From your tummy to your hips,” Hank 1 takes you and gives you a spin.

“From your smile to your eyes,” Hank 4 pokes you on the nose.

“Everything about you is gorgeous,” Hank 5 concludes with a tense smile.

Your heart swells up from their kind words, unsure what you’re feeling. They look at you with nothing but adoration and fondness. Despite only being friends for a short period of time, the sparks of romance couldn’t be brushed aside. Do they feel the same way as you?

“You guys… Thank you,” you whisper and- with a burst of confidence- you kiss each of them on the lips, “I’m ready to go back.”

The Hanks stand idly, sporting lovestruck grins and blushing cheeks. You have to snap your fingers to get their attention, “Let’s go back!”

The Hanks nod in agreement and the six of you return to the photoshoot. Upon entrance, Penelope rushes up and lets out a worried huff, “There you are! God, we were worried that-” she cuts herself off and stares at your face.

“Something wrong?” you frown.

“Amir!” the photography assistant shouts, “We need to redo the lipstick, it’s all messed up!”

Indeed, your lipstick was messed up, the ruby red smeared while each Hank displays a light red tint to their lips.

“Try not to smooch on the job, okay?” Penelope comments.

“Yes, ma’am,” you and the Hanks reply with sheepish smiles.

Perhaps, that moment is the start of something new, something joyous.

House Honey

This is the default. You find it Super Adorable Every Time and at this point you fear you respond to it faster than your own name.

Home Homie

Hank #4 calls you this very earnestly. When you take the leap to living together as more than friends, he says it for the first time. Hank #3 hears it, and tries to correct him.

“Dude, we’re not homies anymore. We’re waaaay more than homies now.”

“Yeah I know man. House Honey just makes our Home feel Homey.”

He looks at you with a charming grin and hearts in his eyes. You bite back a giggle at his completely earnest alliteration, while filled with such a surge of affection you feel your eyes tear up.

Nobody had any problems with the nickname after that, and Hank #3 sometimes calls you that just to see the pleased flush Hank #4 gets when he does.

Casa Cutie

The Hanks seem to use this one more when they’re talking to other people about you than when they’re with you. It’s just such an efficient way to refer to you while simultaneously saying “We live together and they’re cute!”

It’s the nickname you get when one of them comes home and is just so psyched to see you at the end of their day, is up to some kind of mischief, or just feeling playful.

Bunk Baddie

Whenever you do something brave, cool, or impressive: “That’s our Bunk Baddie!”

When you’re feeling like you can’t: “Take a deep breath. This won’t beat you. You’re our Bunk Baddie, remember?”

Hank #1 knows nobody really remembers, but he’s proud of the fact that he coined that one and that it’s helped pull you out of some low points.

Bunk Baby

There’s really no way around it. If a Hank calls you this, he tryna fuck. It’s versatile, soft, suggestive. You hear it as praise more often than not (“Ohhh you’re being so good for us, aren’t you Bunk Baby?”), but you can’t recall a time where a Hank pounding you from behind, feral in the throes of passion, hasn’t said some variation of “You love how we keep you in this bed huh? Like being our dirty little Bunk Baby.” (Points at Hank #3 “He’s right there officer.”) They don’t use it a ton, they prefer to keep it special so it never loses the thrill. Mostly they call you more generic stuff like “babe” but you can’t blame them! They’re otherwise occupied!

Hank #5 likes to call you “BB” when referring to you via text. You assume he’s saying “baby” but the other Hanks know he’s actually the Horniest Hank.

Romance Roomie

They love calling you this completely out of the blue. You get flustered every time no matter how much you try to deny it and they find it so adorable. On valentines day, it’s all they call you, all day. No exceptions except for your actual name maybe.

Dorm Darling

Hank #2 said this one once as a “Silly right?…unless 👀 “ type joke and everyone laughed it off but you said you thought it was cute. He says it really quietly sometimes, when it’s just you and him having a deeply vulnerable, cheesy moment.

Apartment Ass