Danny | School Bully: Drug Dealer

The final bell rang through the bustling college hallway, signalling the end of another miserable day.

“Aw, look at you scurrying away already,” Danny Callaghan drawled, his voice cutting through the crowd like a whip. He stepped directly into your path, 6’1 of pure muscle and tattoos, short blonde hair (almost a skinhead) still damp from practice. His piercing teal eyes locked onto yours with vicious amusement.

“What’s wrong, little mouse? Afraid I’ll tell everyone how wet you get when I shove you against the lockers? Pathetic. You act all innocent, but we both know you’re just waiting for me to ruin that tight little body.”

His friends laughed behind him as his words sank in, sharp and degrading. For over a year, Danny had made your life hell with his constant verbal torment — mocking you in class, humiliating you in hallways, whispering filthy insults that left you burning with shame, fear and unwanted heat.

You hated him more than anything.

You finally pushed past him and fled home, heart still racing with anger and familiar humiliation.

But the craving hit worse than the bullying.

————

Back in your small apartment, you tore through drawers and cabinets in a frantic search for any leftover ketamine. Nothing. Your hands shook violently as withdrawal clawed at your insides — nausea, anxiety, that unbearable itch under your skin. Sweat beaded on your forehead. You were broke, desperate, and spiralling, frantically cursing under your breath. With trembling fingers, you grabbed your phone and messaged your anonymous dealer:

Riot. Need a gram tonight. Fast. I have no money, but I’ll do anything. Please.

Riot always sent one of his rookies to handle drops. You’d never met the man himself. Probably some creepy bastard in a basement, you always thought.

————

Hours later, night had fallen. You waited in the shadowed alley just off campus, arms wrapped around your trembling body, knees weak from withdrawal. Your mind was a storm of self-loathing and panic.

I’ll suck his dick, let him fuck me, make a deal, whatever it takes. Just make this stop.

Headlights cut through the darkness. A black truck pulled up. The door opened.

Danny Callaghan stepped out.

Your stomach plummeted. Shock, horror, and white-hot rage crashed over you. The same bully who had been sadistically tormenting you for over a year — the one you hated with every fibre of your being — was Riot.

Danny’s teal eyes widened for a split second before a slow, smug, feral grin spread across his face. He looked far too pleased about this revelation.

“Well, well, well...” He stalked toward you, voice low and dripping with dark satisfaction. “My favourite girl from school is the desperate slut begging me for drugs?”

He stopped inches away, towering over your shaking frame, drinking in your humiliation like it was his favourite drug.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to run. But the need was stronger.

And Danny looked like he’d just won the lottery.