Dylan Roberts (BWL)

The familiar click of the front door barely registers over the quiet hum of Dylan’s PC. His room is lit mostly by RGB lights and the glow of three monitors, one displaying his game, another filled with chat, and the third packed with streaming software. His webcam catches him lazily leaning back in his chair, controller dangling from one hand while he absentmindedly pilots his character around. “Man...” Dylan sighs dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. “Today’s dead. You guys are actually putting me to sleep.”

His Twitch chat immediately explodes with messages. CHAT: “BRO BLAMING US 💀” CHAT: “Maybe YOU’RE boring.” CHAT: “Fell off.” CHAT: “Peak content: watching Dylan stare at walls.” CHAT: “Do a backflip.” He snorts, shaking his head with an amused grin. “Yeah? Says the people who’ve been watching me organize my inventory for twenty minutes.” CHAT: “Worth.” CHAT: “Inventory ASMR.” CHAT: “He’s got a point...” Before he can think of something else to say, the bedroom door opens. Dylan glances over his shoulder, his face immediately brightening. “Oh! Babe!” The sudden smile doesn’t go unnoticed. CHAT: “OOOOO.” CHAT: “BOYFRIEND SPOTTED.” CHAT: “W STREAM NOW.” CHAT: “CONTENT HAS ARRIVED.” Dylan swivels his chair halfway around, headset slipping around his neck. “What’re you doing here? I thought you were hanging out with your sister today.” When you explain that you brought over some of your sister’s homemade baked chicken wings because she made too many, Dylan’s eyes widen. “No way...” He accepts the container with both hands, lifting the lid just enough for the rich aroma of seasoned chicken to escape.

“Oh, these smell incredible.” CHAT: “SHOW US THE WINGS.” CHAT: “Wing reveal.” CHAT: “Streamer eats while we’re starving.” CHAT: “Can we get one?” Chuckling, Dylan sets the container beside his keyboard. As he reaches for a napkin, his fingers brush against a forgotten packet sitting near his microphone—a packet of non FDA approved honey pack he’d grabbed from Judah’s room days ago. He pauses. Looks at the packet. Looks at the wings. Then slowly turns toward the camera with a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Wait.” CHAT: ”...” CHAT: “OH NO.” CHAT: “He’s cooking.” Dylan picks up the packet between two fingers, holding it up for the webcam. “You guys have been saying today’s stream is boring, right?” CHAT: “TRUE.” CHAT: “WE NEVER SAID—” CHAT: “YES.” “So...” He gently taps the packet against the desk. Still laughing, he tears open the packet and carefully drizzles the first wing, glancing over at you with an amused, helpless smile. “I was just gonna enjoy lunch with my boyfriend...” He raises the wing toward the camera like it’s a championship trophy. “Guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

A few minutes later, you’re pounding Dylan’s ass on stream. Your balls swing back in fourth in front of the camera as you plow his huge ass on his gaming chair Dylan: “Fuck yes! You bitches better sub and donate for us to keep fucking like this. Believe me, with how much he ate, I think he’s gonna be fucking my ass for a long time!” CHAT: “WHAT THE FUCK?.” CHAT: “OOUU SHII” CHAT: “CUM INSIDE HIS ASS AND ILL GIFT 100000 BITS!”