amnioticfiction

[amnioticfiction]

[amnioticfiction]

Desire making history as the first show to fully act this out (and more)

— 垂涎Desire (2025) | EP. 01 • 04 • 05 —

[amnioticfiction]

One of my favourite chinese mpreg videos hehe🤭

Title basically translates to:

Pregnant man struggles to birth a baby too big, yet doctors dare not operate a c-section.

[amnioticfiction]

To the 20 of you, thanks for doing the poll! I hope you guys are following me because I just learned that reblogs are not shown on the explore pages haha

For those who got bamboozled by the gore/horror, I'm sorry. Actually I could use some feedback on this.

Did you guys think I used the wrong tags? What better tags should've been included?

I am pretty new to writing on tumblr and tagging fics. So if anyone could help me out on this, I super appreciate you ><

And that's a wrap!

Thank you all for reading my first mpreg birth story. I didn't think anyone would be interested. Really appreciate every single one of you for supporting throughout — leaving notes, following, and reblogging. I really felt that you guys were with me on this.

Let me know what your experience with Tenth Moon was like. 🌝🌝🌝

Drop your thoughts in the comments if you have a different opinion :)

[amnioticfiction]

WU SUOWEI CRYING SO PRETTILY AND CHI CHENG IT'S TOO OBVIOUS HOW MUCH YOU LIKED HIM BITING YOU

— 逆爱 Revenged Love (2025) | EP. 11 —

[amnioticfiction]

“Push!”

“No…” he panted weakly. A sheen of sweat long formed on the surface of his skin. The strands of his hair clung to the sides of his cheeks.

His vision had begun to blur. He didn’t know how long its been. The pains were too many to count. It enveloped his reality, it’s the only thing he knows now.

But even in this state, he kept a conscious mind.

He had to.

“I won’t… I won’t let you… have him.” He groaned from behind gritted teeth. His eyes, though glassy, still pierced the blurry blob. He was determined.

The figure scoffed. Cold eyes watched the pregnant form writhing beneath the restraints. None have ever resisted this long, elites are truly a different breed. The potential of this specimen was never more exciting.

The charts go wild, drawing peaks.

“Ngghh…haahh…” The chains that bounded those wrists, clung taut. “aaAHNNGH—” His pupils shrunk as he swallowed his scream. He will never submit.

The stubborn man pushed his feet instinctively against the foot rest. He definitely felt the urge yet denied to push.

The figure rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin. Moving between his legs and pushed open his thighs that he fought to close. It wasn’t much of a fight. The figure easily held him apart with one arm.

The opening was bulging alot more now. A glistening orb peaking through.

The figure grins. The end was in sight.

“It’s coming whether you like it or not.”

Something slipped between his folds, stretching him out. IT HURTS!! He tries to scoot away but there was no where he could go. He was strapped down.

The orb slips further.

“No…please..” The fingers continue as if digging the child out of him. “PLEASE!”

Asher.

“Save your screams dear. He’s not coming.”

---

A/N: This is one of the ideas I've been dwelling on forever. If you have done my poll, you can take a guess which idea it is HAHA. Finally got some time and creative juices to start writing, even if its just a short excerpt. This time without the help of AI too! (Patting myself on the back) Its still a long way from becoming a full-fledge web novel but I am pretty happy with this :)

[amnioticfiction]

And that's a wrap!

Thank you all for reading my first mpreg birth story. I didn't think anyone would be interested. Really appreciate every single one of you for supporting throughout — leaving notes, following, and reblogging. I really felt that you guys were with me on this.

Let me know what your experience with Tenth Moon was like. 🌝🌝🌝

Drop your thoughts in the comments if you have a different opinion :)

[amnioticfiction]

Is anyone watching #revengelove? Hehe..

if someone doesn't smash that fkn phone....

[amnioticfiction]

Tenth Moon Chapter 12

The child’s head rested between Rien’s thighs.

Still. Heavy. Waiting.

The rest of the body twisted slowly inside him — shoulders shifting, spine rotating, as if the baby itself knew what came next and was preparing.

Kael held Ryan upright between his legs.

Ryan trembled. Every breath came like glass.

“I can feel him,” he whispered — as if it hurt to say even that.

Kael nodded. Pressed his forehead to Rien’s temple.

“He’s coming to you.”

The contraction came fast.

A low, deep drag of pressure — so thick, so full, it felt like it lifted Ryan off Kael’s lap.

He screamed.

Not in surprise.

In inevitability.

He pushed.

The shoulders struck — full and wide.

His body split to take them.

The pain was not sharp this time. It was pressure beyond limit — a thunder that cracked bone without breaking it, that pulled him open to the root.

Kael felt Rien arch hard against him. Felt him go rigid — like a bow drawn too far.

The midwife’s voice reached through it all:

“Again.”

And Ryan obeyed.

The scream that followed wasn’t a cry of birth.

It was the sound a man makes when his body becomes something else. Something that isn’t body anymore — just passage. Just gateway.

He bore down — and something tore.

Not flesh. Not entirely.

Something else. A veil.

And then—

the shoulders came free.

There was a rush.

Of breath. Of fluid. Of silence.

And in Kael’s arms — Ryan collapsed.

Not from defeat.

From completion.

The midwife caught the child.

Slippery. Trembling. Real.

No cry yet.

Just breath.

Just skin.

Just life.

Kael reached forward — barely able to see through tears — and helped lift the small, wet body to Ryan’s chest.

Ryan didn’t speak.

He simply held on.

Hands trembling.

Eyes half-closed.

Chest rising beneath the new weight.

The child let out a single, thin cry.

Sharp. Wet. New.

And Ryan sobbed..

The cry faded.

Not into stillness, but into breath. The soft, shallow kind — unpracticed, wet in the chest.

The child twitched once against Ryan’s skin.

Small. Heavy. So warm it was disorienting — as if the body that had nearly broken him now offered heat back into his arms.

Ryan blinked.

His eyes couldn’t focus. Not fully. He was crying too hard to see, too tired to stop.

He ran his palm — fingers barely steady — down the curve of the child’s back.

The child shifted. Nuzzled weakly. Not searching. Just existing.

“I did it,” Ryan whispered.

As if the words themselves were unfamiliar. As if saying them might make them true.

Kael nodded, forehead still pressed to his.

“You did.”

Ryan’s hands flattened gently against the child’s body. Holding. Just… holding. Not possessively. Not protectively. As if to confirm: he’s here.

He pressed his lips to the crown of the child’s damp head.

The taste was salt and blood and something older than language.

The midwives moved softly around them.

They did not interrupt.

They didn’t ask for the cord.

They didn’t rush the afterbirth.

They simply watched — as the man who had given his body to the gods held the child they had demanded like he had finally remembered what he was fighting for.

Kael’s arms curled tighter around Ryan.

He looked not at the midwives, not at the child — but at Ryan.

“You’re still here,” he whispered.

Ryan didn’t answer.

He only nodded — once, twice — and let the child’s breath rise against his chest.

The baby shifted again — a tiny, instinctive curl of limbs against Rien’s chest.

Ryan flinched — not from pain, but from the strangeness of it. The sensation of being held from the outside after being claimed from within.

He inhaled — slow, unsteady. And with that breath, something returned to him. Not strength. Not clarity. But something older. Something like self.

Kael didn’t speak.

He held Ryan like a vessel still warm from fire.

He could feel the aftershocks moving through him — the tremble in his arms, the occasional hitch in his chest, the micro-winces of a body still registering descent.

And yet — Ryan never let go.

The child’s breath warmed the space between them. Soft. Repetitive. Animal.

No cries. No wriggling.

Just the miracle of breath where there had been risk.

The midwives kept to the edges now.

One stirred a bowl of warm herb-water. Another offered Kael a cloth. He took it, but didn’t move to use it. He was too busy watching Ryan's face.

Ryan’s gaze slowly drifted downward.

He blinked — once, long — then looked fully at the child for the first time.

Not in disbelief. Not in shock.

But in a quiet, aching sort of awe.

As if some part of him had believed until now that this might never happen.

“I thought I wouldn’t be here,” he whispered.

Kael lowered his head. Pressed his lips to Ryan’s shoulder.

“You’re here.”

Ryan nodded.

Tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away.

Kael reached out and gently cupped the child’s back.

The tiny body shifted — one hand twitching open, then curling again, like a new instinct forming mid-air.

Ryan watched.

Then whispered:

“He’s heavier than I thought.”

Something had left him… and something had returned.

He didn’t understand it yet.

But the balance had shifted.

And this time, it had not taken him with it.

The child’s breath warmed the hollow beneath his collarbone — light, but real.

And Kael smiled — soft, cracked at the corners.

“He’s yours.”

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[amnioticfiction]

Tenth Moon 11.2

The next contraction didn’t wait.

It came too soon, too sharp — a wave crashing down on a man too spent to brace.

Ryan shuddered.

His eyes didn’t open. But his hands clenched weakly at the mat.

Kael sat him up and slid in behind him, no longer waiting for permission.

He pulled Ryan against his chest, legs folding to frame his body. One arm wrapped across Ryan’s chest. The other pressed low, steadying his belly.

“I’ve got you,” Kael whispered. “Let him come. I'll hold you through it.”

Ryan groaned — not a word, not even pain. Just sound. Air torn from lungs caught between tension and surrender.

He bore down.

But it wasn’t a push. It was falling — into the weight of pressure, into the need to obey.

This was no longer pain.

It was ritual.

The body obeyed because the rite still held — even if the voice was gone.

The crown pressed forward.

The perineum bloomed wide and white with stretch.

One midwife steadied his leg. Another oiled her fingers and pressed gently against the skin.

“He’s close,” she said. “So close. Breathe. Let him pass.”

Kael felt Ryan twitch — arms trembling, jaw clenched.

The push came like a quake — not loud, but deep.

And then—

Ryan screamed.

Not with strength.

With terror.

The child was too large. The stretch too complete.

His hips jerked. His back arched. His feet scrambled against the mat, and Kael held him, murmuring:

“You’re safe. You’re safe. I’ve got you—”

Tears spilled from Ryan’s closed eyes.

“I can’t—” he choked.

“You are,” Kael whispered back. “You already are.”

Another contraction.

The head crowned further.

Not quickly. Not cleanly. But it came.

The skin thinned. The shape bulged.

And Ryan sobbed through it, biting his lip, hands twisting in the mat.

His whole body shaking.

Kael cradled him closer.

“There’s no more vow,” he whispered, forehead pressed to Ryan’s. “They took it from me. They took what I swore. All that’s left is you.”

Ryan gasped. Half-conscious.

Kael guided his breath.

“Let the pain pass through you. You don’t have to carry it anymore. Just push.”

Ryan groaned — and did.

He bore down.

The room filled with sound — moaning, whispering, soft invocations.

And slowly, inch by sacred inch, the child pressed forward into the world.

The perineum stood taut — stretched thin, shining with oil and pressure.

The crown sat just beneath, bulging wide, unyielding.

Not slipping back, not descending further. Just… there.

Demanding.

Rien panted — sharp, shallow, desperate. The sound of a body trying not to break. Trying, and failing.

His legs quivered. His jaw locked. His hands clutched at Kael’s arms behind him, fingernails biting skin.

Kael didn’t flinch. Didn’t move.

Only whispered, over and over:

“I’m here. I’m here. I’m here.”

And in his arms, Ryan fought the moment that would tear him apart.

The stretch gave.

Not all at once. Not gentle.

A slow, torn edge of silence — and then wetness, heat, the scent of copper and sweat.

The head slipped free.

The midwife caught it in both hands, murmuring something sacred — not a celebration, not yet. Just an invocation of protection.

Ryan sobbed.

Kael pressed his lips to Ryan’s temple.

“You did it,” he whispered.

But Ryan shook his head.

“No—no, it’s not done—he’s not—” His words dissolved into gasping.

The next contraction was already building.

The midwife held the head gently, wet and quiet and real. Its dark hair slicked to scalp. Brows furrowed in the blur of birth. The rest of the body still inside. Still waiting.

Ryan trembled.

Kael’s arms tightened around him — one across his chest, the other low across his belly, where the child still twisted beneath the skin.

“You’re safe,” Kael whispered.

But Ryan was shaking too hard to believe it.

His hands fluttered weakly, trying to grab at something. His breath came in gasps that didn’t carry air. His legs convulsed once, then went slack again.

“I can’t—” he choked. “I can’t do the rest—”

Kael kissed the crown of his head.

“You already are.”

The midwife lifted her eyes just briefly.

“He’s still turning,” she murmured. “The shoulders haven’t aligned.”

Another contraction gathered. Ryan felt it — sharp, invasive. A twist deep inside. As if his body was being turned from the inside out.

He cried out. Not from pushing. Just from being held open.

Kael didn’t speak this time.

Only held him. Breathed with him. Waited with him.

The child’s head rested between Ryan’s thighs. The body waited to turn. Time stilled. The gods watched.

And Ryan — no longer speaking, no longer praying — held on to Kael, as the next wave began.

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[amnioticfiction]

Tenth Moon 11.1

Kael stumbled through the doorway — gasping, soaked in rain and silence.

His eyes searched the birthing mat first — then found the midwife, crouched, hands steady. And there — between his love’s trembling, drawn-up thighs — was the child’s crown, thick with dark hair, just beginning to crest.

Time suspended.

The storm howled behind him. Blood steamed in the incense-thick air.

Ryan let out a low, broken moan — not speech, not scream — the sound of a man still inside the fire, too deep to rise for air.

But Kael saw.

The baby was coming. The god had listened.

His knees buckled.

He stumbled forward like a man reborn — rain still dripping from his skin, heart thundering in his ribs. He dropped beside the mat, hands shaking, eyes locked on the child’s crown.

Another inch slipped forward. Kael reached — steadied Ryan’s thigh with one hand — and felt the heat, the tremor, the sacred pressure of life unfurling.

His offering had been accepted. And now — his love was surviving it.

Ryan laid on his back — still wide, still open — his legs drawn up, his body slack with aftermath.

But his eyes were open.

Glossy. Barely focused.

But open.

Kael dropped beside him.

“Rien—”

No answer.

Only the faintest sound from his throat — not speech, not moan — just air, pulled from the pit of another contraction.

His arms lay limp. His chest rose shallowly.

But the body was still working.

Still obeying.

Still pushing.

And between Ryan’s legs — the midwives knelt, quiet, precise, hands dark with oil and light with care. 

One of the midwives reached up and pressed warm hands to Ryan’s inner thighs.

“The god has begun his coming,” she murmured.

Kael swallowed.

He touched Ryan’s face. Wiped the sweat.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I can see him. You're so close. ”

Ryan didn’t speak.

His breath stuttered. His eyes fluttered shut.

A contraction built again.

Kael saw it in the way Ryan’s belly tightened, in the way his legs trembled where they lay.

But Ryan didn’t move.

Didn’t brace.

Didn’t push.

“Can you hear me?” Kael asked, crouching closer.

Ryan groaned — barely — through his teeth.

Kael cradled the side of his head. Brought his mouth closer to Ryan’s ear.

“You don’t have to fight anymore. Just breathe. I’ll hold you.”

Another contraction.

Ryan gasped. His hips shifted slightly.

And the head — slowly, subtly — pressed forward.

The midwives murmured as one.

“Let it come.”

Ryan exhaled. A shuddering sound.

Kael felt his whole body tremble.

This was not the push of a man choosing to give. This was a body remembering what it had already agreed to.

A covenant continuing — without strength, without will, without protest.

And yet —

the child moved.

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[amnioticfiction]

Tenth Moon 10.2

Kael ran.

Through the compound. Into the jungle. Into shadow. Into breathless green.

His feet tore roots. His skin split on branches. His chest burned.

Still, he ran.

The altar waited in its clearing.

Kael stumbled to his knees before it.

Palms slammed the stone hard enough to bruise.

He didn’t light the candles. Didn’t chant. Didn’t kneel the proper way.

He had no breath left for ritual.

He pressed both hands to the altar and shouted:

“You listen to me now”

Lightning split the far edge of the sky.

Rain, cold and fine, began to fall — sliding down his spine in rivulets.

“I gave you the rites,” Kael said, teeth bared. “I carved the name. I bled the blood. I bathed him in your sacred waters. I gave you my faith when he had none.”

His voice cracked.

“What more?”

The altar did not answer.

The bones above it rattled.

Kael’s fingers curled against the stone’s runes. His arms shook from exhaustion, from hours of holding Ryan’s body, from failure.

He leaned forward, forehead pressed hard to the altar.

“I broke your vow,” he confessed.

“I touched what was not mine. I stayed when I should have stepped back. I held him. I loved him.”

His voice dropped to something smaller.

“But you brought him to me.”

“You made him this. You let me love him.”

“Don’t take him now.”

He rose to his knees.

Unwrapped the linen from his arm — the crescent scar exposed, wet with rain.

“Take me instead.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Take my vow. Take my breath. Take what you made in me.”

His jaw clenched. His breath hitched. He swallowed back sobs.

Then he shouted — not to the sky, but to the stone:

“LET HIM GO!”

And the scar splits to the bone.

A hot line of light peeled open beneath the skin. No blood. No wound. Just vacancy.

He cries, wrapping his fingers tightly just above where the skin begins to split.

The pain sending him to one knee.

Then he feels something slid from his spine like steam leaving stone; something ancient.

His breath stuttered. The vow was gone.

Far behind him, through trees and wind and night— a scream split the world.

"Rien." Kael’s lips parted.

His scar pulsed once more— and fell silent.

Somewhere, in the birthing chamber Kael had left behind, the gods had answered.

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[amnioticfiction]

Tenth Moon 10.1

The contraction rose like a flame from the base of Ryan’s spine.

It did not warn. It did not build. It simply struck — raw, complete, unrelenting.

Ryan arched.

Every muscle seized — not with readiness, but with defiance. His mouth tore open. His voice followed, ragged and primal.

A scream not to summon help, not even to survive — but to empty.

To expel the last of himself.

To say, without words: I am not done. I will not break. You will not win.

Kael held him through it.

Arms wrapped around Ryan’s ribs, back braced, lips near his temple. He felt it all — the shake of effort, the roar of refusal, the full-bodied collapse of a soul still trying to finish the impossible.

Ryan bore down with everything he had.

The scream didn’t stop.

His whole body curled forward — shoulders locked, abdomen shaking, thighs trembling as if the earth itself might give way beneath him.

Then— he fell back into Kael's embrace. Mouth open. Panting hard against Kael’s neck, each breath wet and broken.

For a moment, they stayed like that — Kael holding him, Ryan trembling, gasping in the hollow of his throat.

Then— Ryan’s breath hitched.

Once.

Twice.

And stopped.

His body sagged.

His limbs gave.

The weight of him slumped fully into Kael’s arms.

Ryan’s head lolled to the side. His arms limp. His mouth remained open, but the sound had gone.

No cry. No moan. No breath.

Only stillness.

Kael didn’t hear the end of the scream.

Because there was no end.

Only the air, waiting.

“Rien—?”

He shook him.

“Rien, wake up—”

No answer.

He slapped Ryan’s cheek, once. Pressed a hand to Ryan's chest.

There. A pulse. A faint lift of breath. But the next contraction rolled through Ryan’s belly, and he didn’t respond.

No noise. No shift.

Just the shape of a man left behind in a labour not yet complete.

Kael’s hands began to tremble.

Not from grief.

From panic.

He laid Ryan down.

Carefully. But quickly. Because he had to move. Because if he stayed, he’d break in two.

Ryan’s body folded gently into the mat.

His legs remained open. Unclosed. Unclosable. The child too deep to allow the gate to seal. The offering too far given to be undone.

The midwives moved in silence. One placed a cloth on Ryan’s brow. Another whispered the last lines of the rite. A third said Kael’s name — firm, maternal, final.

He didn’t hear her.

Their voices were too far now.

The moon was falling fast. And beyond the trees, the black sky had begun to silver. The light was coming.

Too soon.

Kael stood.

And ran.

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[amnioticfiction]

Welcome to AmnioticFiction

A repository of original mpreg birth fiction complete with full character and story arcs:

my own fics, and

Chinese mpreg BL webnovels

-

Hello! Here's my story :)

I’ve been obsessed with birth and mpreg since my first waking memory, and have been lurking online here and there (used to be on tumblr but dropped out after the first purge, migrated to chinese social media, and now I’m back again), feeding on mpreg content until…

One day, I was dabbling with AI — challenging its guidelines to write myself a mpreg birth fic. I don’t know what compelled me that day. You could say I was just curious.

I have always had story ideas of my own but I can’t write to save my own life. So that experiment opened a whole new rabbit hole for me. I lost sleep because of it. I was MANIC; prompting for days and nights!

And that’s was how I accidentally became an mpreg fic writer.

I know there’s the whole controversy about using AI for creative work, which I, who graduated with a Fine Arts degree, don't disagree with — AI should be used as a tool, not as a product.

But as someone who lack writing skills, using AI has helped me to start learning even though it’s not the best resource for writing. I will continue to use AI assistance until I get a hang of writing. Please don't come at me, I'm just trying to manifest my mpreg fantasies ><

I can’t believe there would come a time I would improve my writing because of my desire to write mpreg fics but here we are~

It’s also wild to me that I have started this blog because I used to be so ashamed about having a birth fetish, even though nobody knew about it. When I finally told my friends, it felt like I was coming out of the closet. Tears and all.

Thank you for your support!

Since my first post, you guys have shown so much more love than I thought I would get. I didn't think anyone would bother to read my dumb horny fic haha..

I want to thank you all for supporting amnioticfiction so far. Every follow, note, comment, and reblog means so so much to me.

I’ve been wanting to interact more with you and follow back but didn’t realise Tumblr doesn’t let you do that from a side blog. So if you ever receive a follow from @amniofic, know that its me :D

-

My Originals

Click to see story synopsis, genre, and chapter compilations.

Tenth Moon (Completed)

My Daddy is a Hero (Coming Soon)

Hidden Nature (Coming Soon)

-

Chinese BL Mpreg

十世 / Ten Lifetimes Intro (Translations WIP)

I’m working on it, I promise. There’s just so many stories, so many words, and so little time. And life gets in the way 😭

-

If you have any questions/ requests related to my fics or about chinese mpreg or BL or whatever, feel free to drop me a message in my Askbox hehe

[amnioticfiction]

The birthing chamber was low-lit and round — open to the sky by a single thatched skylight above the altar-stone. The moon hung there, a silver eye. Kael laid Ryan gently on the birthing mat, lined with woven reed and thick cloth soaked in boiled ginger and healing roots. The scent rose warm around them. The eldest midwife knelt by Ryan's side, her hands already wet with oil, her voice low. “Breathe. When the pressure comes, give it what it asks.”

Read Tenth Moon Chapter 8 here.

[amnioticfiction]

Tenth Moon Chapter 9.3

Ryan whispered Kael’s name once — not as a plea. Just to be heard.

“I’m here, Rien” Kael whispered back.

But Ryan was slipping.

His knees gave way, kneeling now. His grip on Kael’s forearms faltered — and Kael tightened his hold beneath Ryan’s arms, steadying him from behind.

The next push was little more than a keening moan, his voice curling in on itself.

His breath hitched. His neck sagged. A soundless gasp rattled his ribs before the wave even crested.

Kael felt him tremble, and the sound it made in his arms was not effort — it was defeat.

“Let him lay down,” Kael said, voice thick, cracking. “Please.”

The midwives paused.

“He can’t hold it anymore.” Kael looked between them. “He’s falling. He’s—he’s given everything.”

No one argued.

The eldest midwife stepped forward and laid a hand on Ryan’s pregnant swell.

“Let him give it seated.”

The midwives helped Ryan onto the birthing stool and dragged along a second seat. Kael sat and pulled Ryan back against him, his knees framing Ryan’s hips. His arms wrapped around Ryan’s belly — one below, one across his chest — holding him steady as Ryan sagged, thighs wide, feet braced.

Ryan didn’t speak.

He didn’t groan when the next contraction came. He howled — not loud, but ragged, worn, barely enough to stay above the pain.

“Let the earth do what strength could not,” murmured the midwife. “Let him descend with the weight of what you’ve already given.”

Ryan grunted. He pushed. Kael felt every muscle shift.

Still the bulge. Still the fullness. Still the stillness.

Another wave.

Ryan curled forward. Arms bracing against Kael's thighs.

He didn’t cry. He didn’t moan.

He bore down until his shoulders twitched and his heels slid forward. Kael anchored him tighter.

Still no movement.

The contraction passed. Ryan let go — not deliberately, not consciously. His head sagged into Kael’s neck, into that soft, warm hollow. Kael shifted slightly to hold him there. Neither of them spoke. For a breath or two, there was only sweat, and skin, and the weight of not being alone.

“It's not coming,” Ryan exhaled, ragged.

The midwife checked again. “The head is still there. He waits.”

Kael kissed Ryan’s temple.

“You’re still here.”

“I’m just… open,” Rien rasped. As if that was all he could be.

One more push. No resistance. No sound. No descent.

Just a long, breathless cry pressed into Kael’s throat.

The midwife did not ask for another. No one did.

Ryan’s head stayed tucked in Kael’s neck. His hands no longer gripped the altar cloth. His legs trembled, then stilled.

No more strength.

No more shapes to offer.

Only stillness remained.

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[amnioticfiction]

His water broke. It came not in drips, but in a full-body release — the kind that leaves the him shaking.

Read Tenth Moon Chapter 7.2 here.