wait is it too crazy to ask for a little somethin somethin about being postpartum and ur milk is clogged and ur in pain so michael helps u 🤔💭💭💭
what?? yes that’s actually so insane who would write about that—
❥ A short blurb about postpartum reader and her trials with new motherhood with the help of her beloved husband, Michael
❥ 𝒞ℴ𝓃𝓉ℯ𝓃𝓉/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈 ~ Husband!Michael, Michael is a father, reader is a mother, breastfeeding issues (im not well versed in this so if anything is inaccurate #mybadgng💀) nipple sucking, but not in a sexual way, angst, fluff. (idk the word count) and ngl this isn’t proof read #forgiveme
You had been trying for hours.
Your breasts were sore, your baby was hungry and wailing, and nothing you did could get the milk out of its duct
Sweat trickled down your face and saturated your baby hair, making it stick to your temples, a visual representation of your exhaustion.
“I know baby I know..” You groan in an attempt to soothe the wailing child as you squeeze the pump attached to your boob. “Mommy’s trying..”
You had one arm splayed on the table with your head resting on it, eyes fluttering from the over-exertion.
Your breast had turned bright red at this point, and the nerves in your nipples were shooting a dozen messages to your pain receptors, which was surely not a good sign.
You were so overstimulated that you didn’t notice your husband walking in, body clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt with wet spots in different areas. He had just got home from practice.
His ears perked in a panic when he heard the screeching child, immediately rushing to the dining room and halting once he saw the scene.
“Oh wow…” He muttered to himself in shock as he took it all in. The crying baby on the play-mat in front of you: a silhouette of surrender and lethargy.
Your head slowly rose from its position on the table when you just barely heard his voice.
“Hey Mikey.” Those two words took all your strength to muster.
“Hey…” His feet lift from the floor in a careful stride, moving towards the baby first and picking her up. “What’s… what’s going on here what happened?”
A shuddering sigh blew past your lips. “My boobs are broken, and our daughter is hungry.”
The confession was so blunt, but the way you said it, so fragile like you were blaming yourself made Michael’s chest ache.
“Okay..” He sets the baby down in the play pen not too far from his sight and makes his way back to you. “Cmon, let’s sit up.”
He takes his hands and scoops them under the arm laid on the table and attempts to lift you.
“Alright baby I-“ He grunts as he attempts to lift your deadweight. “I could use a little help here.”
You groan in protest and he stops trying for a minute, moving his hands from beneath you.
“I don’t wanna get up.” You grumble in protest against your arm. “I give up, I don’t wanna try anymore.”
Michael sighs and kisses the crown of your head before truly examining your state.
On the table there were cold compresses, hot compresses. wet tea bags, ointments, pain relievers, all your resorts displayed before him.
When his eyes trail back to you, he sees the breast pump cup protruding out of your shirt, and coming out of the bottom, a long tube connected to the suction tool itself.
All of this while the baby still cries begin to overwhelm Michael too, but he reels it in.
“Angel.. angel look I’m gonna help, okay?” He squats down in front of your seat and looks into your eyes. “I’m gonna make it better, but I need you to sit up for me okay?” His tone was gentler now, a great juxtaposition to the chaos surrounding you both.
A single tear escapes from your eye as you nod and begin to slowly push yourself in the upright position.
“Atta-girl.” He whispers against you as he absentmindedly kisses right above your knee. “Stay there I think I have some books about this.” His reassurance elicited a tired nod from you before he scurried into the book room.
After he rustles through his collection, muttering soft reminders of what to look for to himself, he comes back with three books stacked in his hands.
“Okay..” The books land on the table with a subtle “thunk” before he spreads them out before you both. “I found these, but I think this one will help the most.”
He hands you a thin book with the picture of a woman breastfeeding titled, “Breastfeeding for New Mothers.”
You smirk at your husband and let out a lazy giggle. “When did you get these?” You open the book slowly and graze through the pages.
He returns a smile before kneeling in front of you again, letting his hand slide beneath your shirt to remove the suction cup from your breast.
“I got them when about a day after you told me you were pregnant.” He says it’s like it’s nothing, but it makes your heart swell.
“You’re so sweet, such a good daddy.” You acknowledged as you tuck a loose curl behind his ear.
He just grins, returning to his task of removing the pump. As he gently tugs, you wince, and he instantly pulls away.
“Yeah..” You squeeze your eyes shut to push the pain away. “It’s fine just.. just keep going.” You exhale through pursed lips and he hesitates.
“I’m ok, it’ll be fine once it’s off.” Your voice is a pained whisper, but there’s no reluctance.
Michael nods before attempting again, trying a new approach. He takes his free hand to push the flesh downward and out of the cup while simultaneously pulling it off.
Your hand reaches to his shoulder and squeezes it for relief, your nails slightly digging into his skin.
He releases it with a soft pop and you suck in air between your teeth while loosening your grip on him.
“Alright sweet girl I’ve got it off.” His lips meet the sore spot through your shirt and you sigh, letting your hand run through his hair.
“Now let’s see what we’re dealing with here.” He slowly slides your top over your head and examines the issue.
Your breasts are a rashy shade of red, implying irritation. His fingers trace along the curve of them, testing to see if it elicits a pained reaction.
“I’m not quite sure…” He murmurs to himself before grabbing the book, eyes never leaving your chest.
You watch as he studies you and flips through the book at the same time, eyes moving back and forth.
“You said they were broken… what did you mean?”
“Nothing was coming out, it’s like… it’s like its stuck or something because I know it’s in there, I can feel it, but it just won’t,” You gesture to yourself hands pointing to the malfunction, “y’know”
He hums in response, turning one more page and scanning it before he turns it to you, pointing at what he just read.
“So you might have a clogged duct.” He explains, as you read the words before you, checking off the matching symptoms to yourself.
His hand reaches to one of your breasts again, focusing on the nipple. “Yeah see?” He attempts to show you, gently moving it to your eyesight. “You see that little white part in the center?”
You squint for a second until you notice it, nodding for confirmation.
“Good okay so the book says that…” He cranes his neck to see it, “says it’s called a ‘milk bleb’? Yeah, it’s that.”
“Okaayyy.. so what do I do?”
He sets the book down before standing up and walking towards the heat compress on the other side of the table.
His path pauses as he stops at the playpen to check in on the small human, cooing gently at the now, relatively, quiet child.
“Thank you for being so patient, angel.” He places two fingers to his lips then to her cheek. “Mommy will be back in business soon, I promise.”
He takes the compress off the table and presses a button. “Ok, book says we need this.” He holds it up and walks back towards you.
“Michael, you gotta wrap it in the cloth or you’re gonna burn my skin off.”
“Oh..” He turns on his heels and grabs the cloth next to it, holding it like a prize before returning to his position in front of you.
“It says the warm compress should uh…” He glances at the book, “should soften the milk clots.”
He’s moreso talking to himself when he places the compress on your swollen chest without warning, but he’s so gentle that you don’t flinch.
“Mike I tried this already.”
“I know, I know but I just wanna try again. I might have the magic touch.” His brows wiggle playfully and you roll your eyes in response, allowing him to continue.
“You’re so silly.” A deep breath settles in you.
“It’s my best quality!” He teases in defense as his lips place gentle kisses to your thighs, trying to bring comfort to your stoic distress.
You simply hum in response as he starts to knead the area beneath the compress with a featherlight pressure.
“Mm..” A soft sound escapes your lips from the sensation. “That kinda hurts..” You mumble to your husband but he continues, just softer.
“Yeah I know.” He reaches up to kiss the swell of your chest before returning to his position. “But it says it’s supposed to help loosen it and what not.”
“If it becomes unbearable let me know okay?”
You nod again, taking another deep sigh, letting your eyes rest as he takes care of you.
“Hey you know…” He starts, letting his free hand caress your calf.
“Hm?” you sound, eyes still shut.
“It says stress can play a role in this too..” His words are suggestive, almost to draw a reaction from you.
“Really?” Your tone is bordering condescending, but the playfulness in it covers it.
But of course he notices, he notices everything about you.
“Yes, really. Don’t be a smart butt.”
His hand trails higher to your thigh, massaging the skin beneath it.
“I know you’ve been stressed… doing this whole mother thing pretty much by yourself while I’ve been working..” His voice drops before his next words. “I’m sorry..” the breath in his lungs catch before he can finish.
“Michael..” Your eyes open up again, looking down at the sight before you.
“No I don’t want you to try and comfort me right now.. let me be that for you this time.”
“I just wanna say I’m sorry that I can’t be here as much as I want to be… as much as you need to be. I know it puts a lot on your plate, trying to care for her, for me…” He pauses for a second..
“But you’re forgetting to take care of yourself in the process.”
The truth lands like a blow, stunning your ability to speak.
“You haven’t been eating, and when I come home at night you’re awake. When I get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, you’re still awake.”
Your eyes start to blur so you look away, staring into the distance to avoid his eyes.
“No don’t do that.. don’t shut down on me.” It’s as if he’s talking to a toddler. “I’m not attacking you, I’m worried about you, and I hate that..” He chokes.
“I hate that I’m not here enough to take care of you when you can’t.”
You don’t respond at first, but your eyes make their way back to his, a tear escaping at the motion.
“You work, Mike… and not just the average call out job… which I am not asking you to do..”
“Look…” You try to find the words to comfort him and he sees it. He hates that you feel obligated to comfort him, even at your lowest.
“You’re here now, and you’re always here when I need you… please don’t blame this on yourself.”
His forehead falls to your knee, a gesture of frustration and surrender.
“Baby..” he tries, but you shake your head.
“We are both… dealing with a lot. And we are both trying our best to do so.. your stress is just as justified as mine, even when you don’t think I see it.”
“But my stress isn’t.. it isn’t disrupting my life, not like yours is..” His words are careful, tiptoeing around nerves. “Not like this..”
Again, silence is your response.
“Angel face..” His hand reaches to your cheek and you instinctively move towards the warmth, eyes softly closing as a tear expels.
He watches your face, truly examining it. Your under eyes have darkened, your cheeks have soft divots in them in replacement of the suppleness expressed in them before. You just look so drained.
“You know what..” He mutters, grabbing your hand to hold the compress before getting up.
He doesn’t answer, he just picks up the phone and dials.
“Yes.. Yes it’s Michael.” he starts, waiting for a moment before continuing. “Yes, I need to cancel the rest of the tour.”
“Michael..” You sit up in your seat slightly.
“Yes, the entire rest of the month. I’ll ensure that the venues are paid for and everyone is reimbursed. Find out the information of the ticket buyers and I’ll also include exclusive signed merchandise.” He pauses for a moment before flinching, obviously being yelled at but he stands his ground.
“Yes. Yes I understand.. Thank you. Yes just send the shirts to my estate.” He nods. “Ok, see you in a week.” and he hangs up.
Your mouth opens to speak as he walks back towards you, but he stops the words with a claiming kiss, stealing your breath with the impact.
“Let me… take care of you.” His words are slow as his lips graze yours, pulling away once you nod in compliance.
“Thank you.” Is all he replies before kneeling in front of you again, taking the compress from your hand.
“Okay, now…” He looks through the book again.
“Says we should try suctioning again.”
Your head throws back in grievance as you reach for the pump but Michael stops you.
“Im gonna try something different..” he moves towards you slowly, wrapping his lips around just your nipple.
“Shh, it’s okay. Just wanna try something a little more gentle.”
“Okay..” is all you mutter, body and brain to tired to quip or protest.
He suckles against you gently, massaging the flesh simultaneously.
You just watch, running a hand through his hair every so often.
“Mm wait..” he says like he’s discovered something. The pace of his suction quickens and he places more of you in his mouth, eyes widening.
He nods, sucking a little bit more to ensure it’s not just luck.
He pulls away and displays his tongue, showing you the expelled milk with a smile and you jump out of your seat in celebration.
Michael follows suit and you rush into his embrace, placing frantic kisses all over as you spill tears of joy.
“You’re okay, you’re okay!” He laughs with a comfort as he rocks you back and forth.
“All better now..” He leaves a tentative kiss to your forehead before pulling away to retrieve the now sleeping infant.
“Alright..” His arms extend her to you and you grab her.
“Round two.” You sniff as you make your way to the seat. Once you’re adjusted, Michael helps place your nipple into to your awakening child’s mouth, letting go once she latches.
You both sit in a stillness as you wait, and as soon as you see her tiny cheeks moving and her face relax, you both release a heavy exhale.
“Thank you, Mikey” You whisper as you lean to him for a kiss, another tear dampening his skin at contact.
“You don’t have to thank me, I’m your husband…the father to our baby, hopefully eventually our babies..” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m supposed to take care of you.”
You melt at his words, placing your lips softly against his soft cheek before laughing at the suggestion. “Yeah.. eventually.” You caress the tiny being in your arms as Michael sits crossed leg in front of you, resting against you as he watches in awe.
A silence fills the room around the domestic scene, the tranquility allow all earlier feelings to settle.
“So…” you break the silence for a beat
“How many people did you piss off by canceling the last stretch?”
He laughs at your inquiry, planting his lips against your plus skin above your knee.
“Not enough with actual power to pry me away from you, I can promise that..”
Your lips curl at his words.
* This was so fun to write I’m such a sap 😭😭
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