Benny realize that if your wife decide to open a bussines, the husband is automatically employed to help. Maybe reader can make jewellery and stuff. Something funny and maybe benny taking to the club to sell some of the stuff 😄
well of course! i love Benny <3
When Benny started dating you the boys had no clue their rebel of a friend would change so drastically. And for a while, he was the same old Benny, quiet, keeping to himself. He got in trouble almost constantly, fights, crashes, arrests.
Then Benny proposed. You got married within the month, and that’s when Benny began to change. Just in simple ways. He was still riding, fighting and cussing out cops. But, he would come to the club with printed flower patterned business cards. He’d hand them out to the boys with girlfriends or wives and he’d try his best to support his girl.
Because shortly after you married Benny, you started your own handmade jewellery business. You were proud of it, so proud that Benny couldn’t say no to helping you promote it.
“Do you think the other women will be there tonight?” Your voice is innocent as Benny tugs a white shirt over his muscled shoulders.
“Yeah baby,” he turns to face you as he picks his vandals jacket up off the end of the bed. He loves the way you’re looking at him now, sweet as sugar. You bat your eyelashes and take a step towards him and he knows what you’re going to ask.
“D’you think you could take some of the stock down there? To the club?”
Benny breathes a sigh as your cold hands come to rest over his chest, so chilly he can feel the temperature through the fabric of his shirt. He reaches up and holds your cool fingers in his warm ones.
“You asking me to move the merch baby?”
That pulls a laugh from you, and Benny latches onto the smile that spreads on your face. “You make it sound like I’m a criminal!” You lean in closer, giving him a quick kiss. “But yes honey, please move the merchandise.”
So Benny does. Later that night he shows up to the club with a small crate of your hand crafted necklaces tied securely to the back of his bike.
“She got to working overtime, huh?” The boys call, teasing as he enters. But Benny ignores the sniggers from his friends as he moves toward the ladies table in the centre of the room. They’ve all gathered together as usual on Friday nights, and Benny places the crate down in the middle of the table without saying a thing.
“What’s this?” Monica grumbles, before standing to get a better look inside the crate. Benny doesn’t say a word, letting your work speak for itself. “Is this part of your wife’s business? The one from the card last week?” Her accent is thick, like a lot of the people here, and Benny just nods.
Some of the other women stand to look inside the crate, sifting through with gentle hands. He can hear the boys chuckling somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t bother to look. He doesn’t mind doing this, despite the shit he gets given for it. Especially when he comes home and gets his grateful and loving wife all to himself.
“How much is this one?” A brunette girl Benny doesn’t recognise holds up an elegant silver necklace.
“Thirty.” You told Benny to sell everything at twenty dollars, unsure if it was good enough to go at any higher rate. But Benny sees the work you put in, knows it’s worth more than your imposter syndrome implies.
The woman thinks it over, then nods and fishes out thirty dollars in cash from her wallet. As soon as she does the other women seem to get a spark of confidence and start asking Benny the prices for other things. He’s become a salesman in a matter of minutes, and he’s acquired one hundred and fifty dollars by the time the women are done with him.
When he gets home, admittedly after a few drinks with the boys, he saunters into the bedroom trying to mask a smile. He’s not an upbeat guy, he’s no one’s personal cheerleader, but his heart beats a little faster now as he sees you brushing your hair at the vanity.
When you see his reflection in the mirror you spin around “How was it?”
“Good. The boys are going for a ride tomorrow.” He knows it’s not what you meant. He watches you deflate and instantly feels just a little bad about it.
“Oh that’s nice.” You spin back around to the mirror, trying to act as though you aren’t disappointed. “Are you going with them?”
Benny watches as you pick up your hairbrush again, absentmindedly pulling it through your hair. He moves slow toward you, leaning down and placing kisses along your neck and bare shoulders.
“Mhm, I’m gonna go with ‘em” he mumbles against your skin, hand slipping into his jeans pocket to grab the hard earned money from tonight. “I figured you’d want some time alone.” He kisses the sweet spot on your neck that he knows you like, “since you gotta do something with this.” He places the cash on your vanity, watching your eyes go wide.
“Benny,” his name comes out a shocked gasp from your lips. “You made sales?” You stand from your seat, letting him pull you around to face him. His hands are warm on your hips as he tugs you closer.
“You told me to move the merchandise,” he answers, one hand moving up to the strap of your nightgown. “So I moved it.”
You let out an excited laugh, grabbing his face to kiss him. It’s rough and overjoyed, but Benny loves it. Loves you.
“How much did you make?” You say when you pull away from his lips.
Benny plays with the thin strap of your nightgown some more. “One fifty.” His touch gently brushing the skin of your shoulder makes you shiver.
“One hundred and fifty dollars?” You sound like you can’t quite believe it. In fact, you don’t believe it at all.
“Mhm.” Benny’s gaze is locked onto you, unable to move from the ever growing smile on your face. The smile he’s dying to kiss away from your lips until all that’s left is an ‘oh’ shape as you cry out for more of whatever he gives you.
“Oh my god, Benny that’s amazing!” You pull him in to kiss you again, and he accepts all the love you have to give. He’s proud of you, happy that you’re proud of yourself too, though he doubts he could find the words to ever say it aloud. But he doesn’t have to, because you just keep kissing him, tugging him toward the bed. And who’s he to deny you?
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