Disclaimer: I don't own Danny Phantom – I never have and I never will, simple as that. You know exactly what would happen if I owned Danny--oh wait, it did happen! Silly me. ;)

Author's Note: All right, I am very excited that I am more than halfway through with this challenge. I only have two left! I'm very excited about that. There are a couple more that I plan on going through before I start the sequel to "Ten Things..." so we'll see how that goes. Thank you for reading! By the way, I have the remaining three mapped out, and out of those three, the last one is probably going to be my favorite. I've had that one mapped out, and I planned on going out with a bang (literally), so the ending piece is going to be a treat.

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028 : Masochistic

Rating : PG-16 (Yeah, sure.)

Theme : 9. Rush ; Thrill ; Exhilaration

July 22, 2007

Have you ever wondered what makes people want to get hurt, to cut, pierce, tattoo, brand, whip, burn themselves for pleasure? I wondered that for a good portion of my youth, but I realized that there's no way around it... I'm a masochist. It's exhilarating. I get pleasure out of feeling pain, and it turns me on, to be frank. My boyfriend of five years hasn't quite figured it out yet, but I believe he secretly knows. For example, when I ask to be bitten, he doesn't hesitate or hold back; that's a reason I know why I love him so much, he's so willing to please me.

With every piercing I get, it has to have some significance. I've gotten a few on my ears, my navel, and my tongue. I was tempted to get my lip pierced, but then it wouldn't feel the same when Danny would kiss me; I didn't want to compromise that, after all. After getting my tongue pierced, it took some getting used to. I couldn't do some of the same things with Danny at first, but after a while, I adapted happily. Smiling back at those times, I was a pretty raunchy teenager. Being twenty-one, now, we were in the big leagues, alcohol to back us up in the race now.

While being a meaningful person, I tend to do some reckless things, as my darling boyfriend likes to point out every so often. For example, if I try and sacrifice myself for some cause, especially if he's fighting, or when I think of only others, excluding myself. I've been told I'm as noble and hard-headed as my counterpart, and I take that as a compliment (most of the time).

"I'm going to go be reckless for a bit, I'll be back in about an hour," I said, standing as I noticed the clock. It would be about time for my appointment soon, and I didn't want to be late.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his azure eyes trying to search mine for an answer.

I smiled, hopefully reassuringly enough, "I'll show you when I get back, but for right now, it's going to be a surprise."

Taking that as the best answer as he was going to get out of me, he nodded somberly and looked back at the television, a re-run of an old cartoon gracing the screen.

"Don't worry," I said as I grabbed my keys off of the end table, and hoisted my black purse over my shoulder, "you're going to love what I bring back."

He smiled at me as I blew him a kiss from the doorway and exited, knowing not to inquire further, and that he wound find out in due time. He was catching on to things like that, and I was proud.

When I got there, I'll admit I was a bit nervous, but it wasn't like I hadn't experienced worse pain from fights in years past. Hell, even from sex I've had worse pain; not from my first time–I explained I was a masochist, didn't I?

Oh, it stung, I have to admit; swearing like a sailor in my mind as the needle outlined the design I had purposefully selected for this outing. It meant a lot to me; it meant that he would be with me forever, even if, God forbid, something happened to either one of us. It wasn't a sign to proudly show anyone who walked past, claiming that, yes, I was the one the Phantom chose and he would be mine, always and forever, and everyone else can kiss my ass. Well, sure, sometimes I did want to exclaim that on the highest buildings, but I had to contain myself for my sanity's sake.

After finishing up, after only twenty minutes, since it was a medium size, I paid the man who had done the job, and met inquisitive eyes, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," I replied, curious as to what he was going to ask.

"Are you one of those obsessed gothic fans of him, or are you the real deal?"

I was slightly taken back by his question. "You mean there have been other girls in here getting that design?"

"I've seen a few come in and out, but your face seems familiar enough to me to think you're the real deal."

"Oh yeah," I grinned, "I'm the real deal."

The tattoo artist smiled at me, extending a hand, "Good meeting you, Manson."

"Likewise," I replied, shaking his hand, and then taking my leave.

When I got home, Danny was in exactly the same place I left him, though now slouched a little to the side, apparently asleep. Grinning, I set down my keys softly, along with my purse. Walking over to him, I leaned down to kiss his forehead softly, then worked my way down the side of his face to his cheek, his jaw line, then to his neck. Moving back to his lips, I saw his eyes were now open, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively at me.

"Oh, you're awake," I grinned, kissing his lips softly.

"What were you planning to do with my unconscious body?" he grinned back, raising an eyebrow.

"The usual," I replied, biting his bottom lip lightly before kissing him again. Remembering where I had just gone and what I just did, I pulled away reluctantly. "Do you want me to show you what I just got?"

"You got a tattoo, didn't you?" he asked suddenly, trying to look around my exposed skin for any mark.

"How the hell did you figure that out?" I asked, backing out of his embrace, standing up fully to look down at him, now.

"I may look pretty, but I'm not stupid," he stuck out his tongue at me.

"Oh, I know you're not stupid," I replied, moving to unbutton my jeans.

"Right here?" he asked, making a move to remove his own clothing as well.

I gave him a look and laughed outright, "I was about to show you my tattoo, smart ass."

"Oh," he said, pouting.

"Later, for what's going on in your mind right now."

"Yes," he cheered softly, leaning back to watch her lower her jeans.

"I don't see anything," he remarked, looking at my boy-brief style of underwear.

Lowering the right side of the underwear to show him the very emblem I designed all those years ago, he got out of his seat to kneel in front of me to get a better view.

"Why this?" he asked in a hushed tone, somehow awed at the fact that I would get something signifying him on my body.

"I designed it, and it means the world to me," I replied, looking down and running a hand through his messy black hair.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," I smiled.

"I have that urge again to throw you on the couch and have my way with you again," he said suddenly, moving to pull her jeans completely off of her body.

"If you must," I grinned, kicking off my jeans and moving to pull off my tank top.

The reasoning behind my tattoo, you ask? It signifies how much I love my life–Danny–my past, present, and future. Even if he couldn't fully grasp that, I know he would soon learn to.

End Note: Okay, so I pretty much lied about updating on Sunday, today, thinking that it was going to take me a bit longer to finish the final Harry Potter novel, but I actually finished it in one day... took me all day to read, though, but hooooooly shit, man. I want to gush and obsess about it, but I have to be a patient little girl and wait for more people to read the novel so I won't be spoiling it for people who haven't read it yet. Boo!

Anyways, I was going to do the generic "flying is exhilarating" but I decided to take it in a different direction. The reason I know about piercings is, yes, I have about ten... and the tattoo? Yes, I have one.

Anyways, there are two left now, and they will most likely be up by the end of the week at the rate I'm going. Please review! They really do mean a lot.

I know people read, but to hear feedback means much, much more.

- A