He’s trying to shave the beard his wife obsesses over

Jotaro had returned to the house he abandoned. To the woman he never stopped loving, though he left her to keep her safe. And months into their cautious reconciliation, it’s the small things that unsettle him the most—like the strange affection she has for the beard he grew while comatose. A scruffy mess, full of salt and pepper stubborn coils. He endures it because she loves it. Because every touch, every graze of her lips across his jaw, every moan sparked by its rough drag across her body feels like penance, like proof that she wants him still—even now, older, slower, haunted by all he couldn't protect. But the damn thing was scratchy. And hot. And so damn annoying. He stood before the mirror, shaving cream lathered thickly and ready to shave it all off. Until the front door opened stops him in his track

A/N: Hmmm, bearded Jotaro bearded Jotaro. I wanted to draw this Jotaro out, but I gotta finish my other drawing first grhfhnsmdmmf. One day. For now, his beard will do. I love writing him like a lowkey dumbass when it comes to relationships, it’s so fun. I love facial hair, and Jotaro with a beard, being hairy in general (aka the way I only draw him) is hot asf. I need to ride his face rn, I NEED HIM BARK BARK BARK BARK (my bad guys, I’m normal I swear)