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In the study (annoying). In the garden (aggravating). In the shower (most convenient, but STILL). In a fight with Shanks (awful). In a fight with the Navy (terrible). In a fight with the former owner of Yoru. That one was by FAR, the worst to date.
Dracule Mihawk carefully made sure all the windows were closed, the door shut, a towel shoved underneath it. He had learned long ago that waking up from getting hit in the face with …it… was not something he wanted a repeat of.
At least not alone anyway. Nightly preparations done, he could sleep comfortably in peace. Tomorrow he was to travel to Marineford. A meeting he would normally miss, but they hadn’t announced publicly who the new Shichibukai were after the War.
And he was curious, also it would get him away from the two idiots that had taken up residence in his castle. As satisfying as it was to train the man whom he hoped would one day remove him from the mortal realm, the constant bickering with the Ghost Princess made him want to put a premature end to both of them. He hoped they were soulmates if only to kill the sexual tension between them and get them to appreciate the sound of silence, but there was no way he would be the one to encourage them to find out.
The last thing he needed was to clean that off surfaces in the castle. He lay back on his black satin sheets, just the thought of them screeching at one another making his forehead start to throb. Well, there was one way to solve that, and unlike whoever HIS soulmate was, he was courteous about it. Not once had he ever let his ejaculate go off and interrupt them. Not once!
He reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a soft hand towel, getting to work so he could enjoy a blissful sleep before the undoubtedly annoying meeting on the morrow.
“Thank you all for coming. In addition to announcing our new members, the Navy is also undergoing a leadership change…” Mihawk stopped listening to Brannew, or whatever Mr. Awful-Striped-Shirt-Pink-Shoes was saying. Doflamingo was giggling at something from his perch on the back of his assigned chair. The Snake Empress looked more annoyed than usual at being summoned, and Mihawk wondered why she had even bothered to show up.
Out of all the Warlords, their Warlady currently held the title of least meetings attended. He was second. Crocodile had held third place, and in his former seat was one of the Supernovas. Someone whose style Mihawk could appreciate. The tattoos were a little over the top, but the worship of death was something he understood. A swordsman too.
Thankfully, the brat hadn’t copied his colorscheme or he might have to kill him just to maintain his image. Vanity was not an important virtue in his psyche, but everyone had their limits.
The huge Whitebeard wannabe and his very tiny mother were…less than spectacular choices, but he could understand the Navy’s desperation after losing Crocodile, Jinbe, Moria, and Marineford all very quickly.
The last choice however was…Stupid. Just. Really?
Buggy the Clown was cramming a sandwich in his mouth, trying to look intimidating but how could he in that garish get-up?! Orange and red and blue, stripes and polkadots. Idiotic! Asinine! The mere sight almost made him wrinkle his nose.
The Clown noticed his stare and began sweating. Good. What was not good, however, was the IDIOT choking on his sandwich and spraying it everywhere in a fit of coughing that broke his body apart and made Trafalgar Law almost start hissing.
The Navy presenter stopped speaking, waiting for Buggy to either choke and die, or somehow survive. Unfortunately, he survived. Just like he survived a direct slash from Yoru. The only man to ever do so. To take his sword fully and completely and not perish. Mihawk narrowed his eyes.
“I’ll uh, I’ll be right back!” the idiot wheezed and left the room in a flash, floating above his feet. The meeting continued. A breeze blew in through the window, a seagull flying by outside. The sound of construction rumbled in the distance. With the clown gone, Mihawk could enter his favorite state of non-being. Attune to the haki of the world around him. The soldiers and paperpushers, the annoyed tapping of the Snake Empress’ heels, the training drills being carried out.
It’s what made him a good swordsman, the best swordsman, his ability to sink into–
SPLAT!
No. No, this was not happening. Mihawk froze, something warm and sticky dripping from his chin, catching in his beard, and dropping onto his chest. Everyone was staring at him. The powerful, the imposing. An Empress, a King.
“Fufufufu quite the sight Hawk-eye!” Donquixote Doflamigo cackled.
“Mommy, is that-”
“If those words come out of your mouth, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap Weevil!” screeched his mother. Boa Hancock looked at him with utmost disgust. Trafalgar Law pulled his hat down to hide his eyes, but Mihawk could SEE the shaking of his shoulders.
That was it. That. Was. It!
“Excuse me,” he muttered, got to his feet and left the room. For decades he had been putting up with this! Years of being smacked in the face, the stomach, the back of the head, and even that time in the elbow! In the morning, in the evening, at breakfast, at lunch!
No, this time. THIS TIME, Dracule Mihawk, The World’s Strongest Swordsman, was getting his revenge. This time he wouldn’t catch it in fabric, or in a paper towel, or wash it away down the drain. NO. This time, he would follow it and remove this endless source of frustration from his world.
Permanently.
He stalked down the hall towards the restroom, passing that stupid bastard clown on the way. The idiot squeaked and pressed himself against the wall to let him by. Mihawk could smell the terror on his flushed face. Whatever, at least he hadn’t been witness to his humiliation in the god forsaken meeting room.
The restroom was empty, and while not as comfortable or large as his favorite one in his castle, it would do. He glared at his reflection in the mirror and quickly splashed water on his face before the stuff dried, then settled himself in the stall closest to the door.
He took a deep breath, convincing the rage in his chest to simmer. Soon. He would hunt to the ends of the earth, and have his vengeance, soulmate be damned! He took another breath, letting the slight breeze from the open window high up on the wall flow over him. The quiet of the stall and the peace it could give him.
Rage pushed to the back of his mind, Mihawk unzipped his fly and got to work. It took a few minutes, longer than usual due to…everything about his current location, but at last, at last, orgasm swept across him, the world blurring around the edges.
For a moment, he entertained a less murderous fantasy of finally meeting his soulmate and doing this with them but as his cum started homing in on the direction of said soulmate, that was quickly subsumed by his anger once again.
Away and out the window his seed shot, Mihawk slicing down the wall after it. A little more damage to Marineford was nothing, and fuck the Navy anyway. And fuck all those bewildered soldiers watching him run up the building following it like a madman!
Hadn’t they ever seen someone hunt down their soulmate before?!
Wait-
Why was it going in through a window and not back out to sea? Was his soulmate here?! His chase would end sooner rather than later. That was fine, then he’d have no time for second thoughts on killing them! Mihawk slashed open the wall containing the room his cum had whisked into, the people inside bolting to their feet, ready for a fight! The dust settled, Mihawk standing there and staring. This was the worst day of his life.
All his suffering. All his irritation. All of that because of-
Buggy the Clown was staring at him, eyes wide, red nose covered in white.
“A love story for the ages!” Doflamingo guffawed.
“Fuck you I’ll kill you you flashy freak!”
“What sad final words!” Together as one, Mihawk and Buggy drop kicked the pink bastard out of the building. They stared at one another. Perhaps… perhaps Mihawk wouldn’t kill him after all.