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You’re a pretty big fan of boobs, who isn't? They’re great, amazing, even not as an object of desire they’re just satisfying. Soft, plush, warm, they’ve got the whole package along with being one themselves. That’s why your eyes tend to trail, and trail they are. You used to stare at Mihawk all the time, satiating your need using your love’s beautiful perfect pecs; but he started getting annoyed quickly. You apparently “stare too much” and it makes you look like a “lustful beast”. So, you choose to look around the restaurant instead. It’s not like he’s one for small talk, preferring to enjoy comfortable silence, and you’re happy to enjoy it with him even if you do sometimes ramble. He listens, though. Noting things you like and dislike, how you feel, what your day is like; but otherwise you enjoy the silence. When going out like this with him you do the same, talk or enjoy the silence while looking around to avoid scanning him and his body. Your eyes go to a singer on stage and the way her dress is tight around her as she dances while singing.
“wooa…” You mumble, mesmerized. It’s like watching jiggly pudding, so satisfying, so great… boobs. You’re so mesmerized, in fact, you’re oblivious to the murderous intent boring into you. By the time you snap out of it and nervously turn your head back to the lover you had started to ignore it's too late. “...uhh…” Amber hawk-like eyes pierce into yours, “My love-” but before you can say anything he stands up and walks off. “Ah!” You stand up too but you can tell, it’s best to give him space when he’s mad. You sit back down and put your head in your hands. “Dammit…” You sigh and lift your head up to rest your chin on your palms. You messed up. That stress and nervousness fills your body and your eyes unconsciously trail back to the dancer to ease it, freezing when you feel eyes on you again. When you snap your head in its direction you see Mihawk, who had turned around to see you looking at a woman’s chest when you thought he was gone. ‘FUCK..!’ You just made it even worse. He narrows his eyes at you and actually leaves this time. You don’t even bother looking towards the dancer. “I hate my eyes that love breasts…” You solemnly mumble to yourself, enjoyment sucked from looking at the soft mounds now that you know your lover is upset. ‘But what do I do? I love looking at them. I don’t like making him so upset… When he’s happy I’m happy, and when I’m happy my eyes look at things I like…’ you think to yourself. That’s it. You need to train. “No longer will I make my lover upset. I am more than my eyes!” You yell out, determined. You notice it’s gone silent and you look around to see people looking at you. “my bad.”
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‘This should be easy.’ You think to yourself as you sit in a guest room, a magazine pinned to the corkboard in front of you. ‘I mean, I just have to not look, right? Plenty of people don’t look, it’s normal. Which means all I have to do is become one of those people.’ The magazine features multiple big breasted women. You focus on her face. This is easy, women are more than their boobs and you are more than your instincts. If you just keep that in mind you should be able to… oops. Before you could realize you were already staring at her chest. Maybe you should switch to a different page. You switch to a different girl and try the same, but you keep glancing down at her naked chest like you’re playing tug of war. This is harder than you thought. Even when you spend the next two hours practicing your mind eventually wanders and your focus turns to the woman’s chest. You need to switch strategies.
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Okay, next day. You switched to a male magazine this time. Their boobs aren’t as big and they aren’t your lover so your eyes should naturally be less inclined to look. You stare at the face of the man.. he looks weird. Maybe it’s your bias but somehow you can’t find him attractive since he doesn’t look anything like Mihawk. It’s boring to look at, you’d rather stare.. ah. You’re looking at his chest. This isn’t fair. Is it testosterone? Is that why this is so hard? No, there are tons of guys who learned to not stare even if they want to. You’re the weird one. That thought makes you desperately flip to a different page and try again, but this guy looks slightly more like Mihawk and it only gives you the urge to look until you are. This has ended up being harder than the women. What’s worse is it’s been almost two days since that incident with the singer and Mihawk still hasn’t forgiven you! Every time you eat he seems distant, and whenever you try to touch him he dodges it. You’d like to speak about it but he still acts as if he’s completely fine and he would never be upset over something so little.
“M-Maybe I should just use observation haki? Go out in a blindfold and use the haki to get around!” You’re desperate, searching for solutions as you pace the room since you haven’t been allowed to sleep with Mihawk since this morning. You can’t just ask the swordsman to let you stare at his chest either, he has the right to tell you not to look. You’ve had this problem over and over and you keep apologizing but you always end up doing it anyway. This is your last resort. You’ve been trying too long to unlearn this habit the normal way. This was supposed to be the method that would finally solve your problem, but it isn’t even working and you don’t know how much time you have to train before Mihawk possibly breaks up with you.
“I’m more than my eyes. I’m more than my instincts.” You repeat to yourself like a mantra as you sit back down. This is your training. You will learn for the one you love.
(Mihawk’s POV)
‘He’s been getting more distant. Has he given up?’ Mihawk thinks to himself as he watches you retreat back to your room once again after lunch. ‘How ridiculous. I should be the one done with him yet he’s acting like he’s done with me.’ Mihawk taps his foot on the floor, getting irritated. It's been a week and a half now and you’ve gotten distant. Sure he was distant first, maybe, but he had a good reason. Meanwhile you seem like you’re done dealing with him and instead go to your room the moment you have free time. You haven’t even attempted to kiss him or look at his chest and it’s starting to tick him off, a lot. ‘Who does he think he is.’ He’s done with this. Mihawk stands up from his chair and heads to the guest room, he should’ve talked to you about this sooner. ‘I knew relationships were a waste of time.’ He thinks to himself as he opens the door.. but you aren’t there, no sign of you. ‘He must be outside.’ He’s about to turn to go to you but spots something out of the corner of his eye, a corkboard. He walks over to it and his eyes widen, then narrow with rage. “I see how it is.”
(Your POV)
You come back from outside. You had been practicing in your room again but got frustrated when you weren’t progressing fast enough, so you went to get some fresh air. When you open the door and spot Mihawk your first reaction is shock, which quickly turns into horror when you see what he’s looking at. The magazines you left on the corkboard. You assumed he wouldn’t go into this room and if he did you’d be back before it happened. ‘I didn’t even step out for that long!’ You panic in your mind. “Miha-”
“Don’t call me that. In fact, don’t refer to me at all.” His voice is cold, his eyes filled with disgust and rage. Your boyfriend(?) is pissed. “A relationship.” He pulls the knife from his cross and slices the corkboard. “What an absolute waste of my time.”
“Wait I-”
“You what? You apologize?” He walks to you. “You feel sorry for being pathetic? Unable to go without stimulation for even a few days before you satisfy your urges with porn of other men and women? You’re a disgusting lustful thing. I can’t believe I thought for even a second that you were anything but.” Your heart aches at his words. How are you supposed to fix this? He’s starting to think you’re some sort of sex addict. You run over to the fallen magazines and pick them up, turning to Mihawk.
“It was for you!” Less than a second passes before his knife is pressed to your jugular.
“That’s your excuse?” A quick flash of pain forms on his face. “Did you even think of me as anything other than a sex object? Tired of me the moment I didn’t give you what you wanted.” The tip of the knife is pressed to your skin, but you feel more sadness that the one you love is doing this rather than fear that he’ll kill you. You look down to flip through the magazine and the blade moves back just enough to not pierce you. He doesn’t want to hurt you. After flipping through it you hold it up to him, but he looks away like he can’t bear to see it.
“Look, I’m telling the truth.” He still averts his eyes.
“Leave. You don’t need to make up reasons like this.” You notice that his shirt is buttoned up as if insecure. Like he doesn’t want to show any part of himself to you anymore.
“Mihawk please.” You plead with him, you don’t want things to end and especially not with a misunderstanding like this.
“I told you not to call me that.” He mumbles, then finally looks at the magazine. It makes him feel as terrible as he imagined, like you would find pleasure in anything. Like it never had to be him. Like he was just convenient for you. Your finger points at numbers at the side of the paper. 15:02. He doesn’t know what it’s supposed to mean.
“It’s the time. I was practicing. I—I know it made you mad the way I would look at other people. So I’ve been practicing not doing it.” 16:24. He stares at the numbers. You put down the magazine and pull out a notebook, showing him various notes on self control and your progress. “I just didn’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m so sorry. Please don’t break up with me. At least if you are, don't do it because of a misunderstanding. You can do it because I’m stupid and can’t control my eyes or emotions. I would rather you break it off because you don’t love me anymore than being hurt thinking I betrayed you.”
…
Mihawk doesn’t know what to say. He was in so much pain, convinced that you thought of him as only an object of desire this entire time. He doesn’t even know what to think. You could be lying, but the notes look well written; the ink differs as it continues like they were made over a period of time. He steps away from you, his hand gripping the handle of his knife tightly. “I need time to think.” The last thing said before he leaves the room. You stand there for a moment before tossing the magazine and notebook to the side.
“I should’ve gone with the blindfold.” You lament as you sit on the bed with your head in your hands.
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A day and a half passes, and Mihawk doesn’t even interact with you anymore. At least before you still ate meals together and would talk a little bit but now he only eats when you aren’t there and walks past you when you try to talk with him. It’s starting to depress you, a lot. He isn’t telling you to leave and technically a day and a half isn’t very long but it feels like he wants you to leave and it’s been forever. You wake up the next morning and gloomily walk to the kitchen to eat breakfast without him, perking up when you spot him at the dining table. There’s 4 bottles of wine and 3 of them are empty, the 4th halfway done. You have a feeling he may be drunk and you don’t know how he’ll react, but you walk over to him anyway. Yet nothing happens. For a second you even think he doesn’t know you’re here. Until he speaks.
“I was thinking.” You jolt.
“Y-Yeah?” You’re hesitant about asking but decide to. “Um, about what?” ‘Please don’t say about us like we’re gonna break up.’
“About us.”
‘NOO’
“Your emotions are so obvious, calm down. I haven’t said anything yet.” Even if your face wasn’t expressive he always seems to be able to tell anyway. Mihawk looks towards the chair to the side of the table and you sit down. He clears his throat. “I acted irrationally, even if what I found looked incriminating.” You remember what he said and how harsh it was, your heart pulses with pain. “However, using magazines to practice is ridiculous.”
“I know it is but I don’t know what else to do. I’ve tried just willing myself not to look but that never works, practice is the only thing that has actually made any progress.” Mihawk grabs the bottle of wine and downs the rest of it.
“I do see that, and that’s good; but the core problem isn’t just that you look at other people’s chests. It’s that you can’t handle not looking at mine.” You avert your eyes in shame. “The moment you aren’t able to at least glance at my body every so often you look elsewhere.”
“I know…” He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs.
“That’s why you should be practicing with me.” You look at him in shock. “Not magazines.” He reaches up and unbuttons his shirt, you notice his chest is flushed and so is his face. You end up immediately looking at his pecs but look back up at his face. When you look up he has a frown on his face, but his eyes look slightly amused. “You’re hopeless.”
“I’m not! I can practice just fine, I just don’t know if you’re actually comfortable with this.”
“I am. No matter how weird the method was, you were making the effort to train. I won’t fault you for that, I fault you for using pictures of other people.” He likes that you didn’t stay helpless and tried to improve even on your own. “I’m your lover, if you’re trying to improve then I’ll help you.” Your eyes widen.
“We’re still dating!? You’re not breaking up with me!?” You’re ecstatic and he smiles.
“No, we aren’t breaking up. I’m… sorry for my harsh words.” He shifts a bit, uncomfortable with apologizing. “I don’t think you or our relationship has been a waste of time, and even if it is then it’s a welcome one.” You stare at his smile. “What?”
“Your smile is really pretty.” You state, mesmerized. His eyes widen for a second before he gives a hearty laugh.
“The only thing better than my chest is my smile, then?” His eyebrows furrow with his smile as you nod. “Very well, come.” He stands up and you follow him back to your shared room where he sits on the bed with his legs crossed. “I will help you train, but don’t think I’m going to go easy on you simply because you’re my lover.” That makes you a little nervous, but you’d rather him be harsh with you than leave you. You pull out a chair and sit in front of him. He raises a brow at you. You pause and then sit on your knees instead. “Better.”
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Mihawk cut the magazines into atoms with his knife and has been helping you train; and he really meant it when he said he wouldn’t be a nice teacher. Even if you look for less than a second he makes you do push-ups. If you space out and look for more than a few seconds you do a lap around the entire manor. Still, it’s working, and he rewards you for jobs well done using meals and actual praise he wouldn’t give to anyone else. The two of you walk around the grocery mart, Mihawk turns to see you glance at another man’s chest but before anything happens you look back at him.
“I thought that guy had the same necklace as you but it’s too thin to have a knife.” You state, putting the groceries into paper bags. He pauses for a moment before giving a hum as if he doesn’t care. However, when you go back home he makes you your favorite sweet for dessert; and the two of you may have also done something very sweet in the bedroom.