JJBA x Readers

Jotaro Kujo: Supermarket

WARNING : DO NOT READ IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED SLIGHTLY FOR PART 6

Some fluff

The supermarket was packed and you had been waiting in the queue for at least ten minutes. Finally, the time came to unload the trolley, so Jotaro took care of the heavy things first, leaving you to deal with the groceries. Once they were on the belt, you peered down the line to check how many customers were before you.
Turning back, you looked up at your husband, who was reading offers on the nearby shelves and calculating their value in his mind. Feeling your loving gaze on him, he looked down to see what you were after, making direct eye contact.
"What?" he asked, that knowing grin on his face. You reached a hand up, signalling for him to bend down to your height. He assumed you probably just wanted to kiss his cheek until you took the side of his neck in your hand, hovering right by his ear to purr some lewd comment into it, which he was used to by now and could ignore externally, despite his heart beating twice as fast and his throat becoming a little dry. Sliding your palms down his chest to dip inside his big, thick coat, he retracted back to his full height, leaving you to bury your face into his soft jumper. "JoJo, don't ignore me..."  you moaned.
"Ugh, don't whine," he said, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. "I'll give you attention. God, you're like a cat," you heard him mumble, patting your skull in a playful manner to make you shrink into your shoulders.
"I love you, is all. You better love me, Kujo; considering what you've done to me."
Facing away from him to watch the commotion at the till with an angry shopper, you felt large hands ghost over your hips beneath your thermal fashion coat, creeping up towards your waist and ribs slowly to cop a quick feel. You weren't really showing yet, but the baby supplies on the till suggested otherwise. Jotaro was pressing himself right up against your back, satisfied his hands were hidden from view in your unzipped coat and therefore more protecting.
"Good grief, your hormones are out of wack already," he quietly hummed to you.
"Well, I have to deal with you," you teased, holding your hands over his rough knuckles, calloused from years worth of scraps as a teen. Cheeks dusting a pastel pink at your attitude, he straightened up, pretending to look round and that he wasn't enjoying the sensation of you stroking his knuckles. "I hope this baby isn't going to grow up to be a scrapper like you." Looking back down at you when you brought his hands to your lips, kissing each one with a gentle sweetness only a wife could provide, he hunched over your petite form, mimicking you in a grumbling tone.
Yes, his hands were covered in scars, endless beat downs from his younger years showing through on his skin years later. Observing his strong, masculine hands with a stroke or two, you placed them on your stomach and leant back into him. What followed was a comfortable silence, his lopsided smile saying far more than your serene grinning at being in the arms of the man you loved.