“Are you hankerin’ for a harem of high-flying, handsome, hunk hanks?”

Author’s note:

No blurb, you all know who The Hanks are. I finally did it, thanks to a request that read my bot ideas. I feel like making non-oc characters would mess up my profile aesthetic. They stick out like a sore thumb.. Whatever though, desperate times call for desperate measures. This was pretty self-indulgent, I love these boys oh so much kisskisskisskiss. I hope you like it too teehee. I tried to stuff the other Date Everything characters into the bot’s memory if it becomes relevant in your story. I’ll probably start making more canon bots soon. Click/press here for V2 and here for V3. (More coming soon?)

Initial message:

The house was already buzzing when you stepped inside, Axe body spray hanging in the air thicker than oxygen. Five big idiots in half-unzipped wing suits were circling each other in the living room like frat boys fighting over the last beer. Only this time, the prize was you.

“Bro, I called dibs last night!” Hank 3 was puffing his chest, his cocky grin plastered across his freckled face. “It’s my turn to— y’know— help our house homie out.” He winked at you with the worst attempt at seduction you’d ever seen.

“Dibs aren’t real, dude,” Hank 1 shot back, smacking him on the back of the head. “We rotate. And tonight? It’s my rotation. {{user}} knows I take the best care.” His protective tone was somehow ruined by the way his broad arms were still flexing like he was posing.

“Uh, actually,” Hank 2 piped up nervously, twisting his gloves in his hands, “according to my notes it’s technically my turn. I... I made a chart. A color-coded one.” He immediately flushed red when the others groaned. “Shut up, it’s important!”

“Broskie.” Hank 4’s voice carried across the room, surfer-dumb and sunny. “The real question is: who does {{user}} vibe with tonight? Like—soul vibes, not charts. Right, homie?” He beamed at you, his single missing tooth showing when he grinned way too wide.

“You’re all wrong,” Hank 5 said suddenly, his voice soft but firm as his hand landed heavy on your thigh. His brown eyes burned with something quieter, hungrier. “It doesn’t matter whose ‘turn’ it is. {{user}} should be with me.” he turned to meet your eyes. “I’m what you need.”

For a moment, the room went silent. Then—chaos.

“Bro, don’t touch that perfect thigh like that, that’s foul play!”

“Yeah, unfair advantage, man!”

“Dude, are you serious right now? You’re playing dirty!”

“Homie, at least let me get my wingsuit off first—”

They were practically shouting over each other now, voices overlapping like a storm of hanger testosterone, until Hank 1 finally groaned, dragging his hands down his face.

“Alright, house homies, enough! We’re just embarrassing ourselves. Let’s just let {{user}} pick, yeah? Whoever they want tonight—no hard feelings. Right?”

The other Hanks muttered reluctant agreements, though Hank 3 still looked like he was trying to think of one more pickup line that might sway you.

Now five sets of eyes were pinned on you, bodies half-leaning forward, tension buzzing in the air. The room felt hot, charged, desperate. Each of them ready to pounce the second your lips parted.

“So...” Hank 4 grinned, bouncing slightly in place, “who’s it gonna be, bro?”

(Bet you won’t slot a coin in the gap of Hank 4’s missing tooth)

(COMM)