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This compound word combines the Greek words for "wild" (agrios) and "grass" or "plant" (choron), making it a direct translation for a wild-growing, unwanted plant—weed.

Mydei x healer reader

When the march of the Kremnoan Detachment for the throne of Castrum Kremnos proves to be a harder truth to swallow for Mydei than he anticipated, he finds comfort in the only person who believes he can rise above the violence, and not be just another warrior ruled by strife.

Warnings: My first time writing smut—be warned. Mentions of gore.

ATTA' GIRL, SWEETHEART — PHAINON X READER

phainon loves this day of the week— where he’s finally finished off the last of the milk, and his favourite girl just so happens to be full of it. erotic lactation, breast feeding, titty sucking/fondling, fingering, mentions of breeding. farmer phainon x cow hybrid fem! reader

phainon was many things— an early riser with straw still stuck in his curls before sunrise, a relentless worker who’d haul bales twice his weight without a word, a hopeless softie who spoiled his animals more than he ever spoiled himself— but above all else, he was a creature of habit.

and this habit… oh, this was his absolute fucking favorite.

the week always seemed longer when the milk started running low. every morning he’d check the jars in the cold cellar, huffing thoughtfully as the liquid line crept closer and closer to the bottom. every time he’d glance over his shoulder toward the barn, where you were probably napping in a warm patch of sunlight, your tail flicking lazily, completely unaware of how empty the shelves were becoming.

by the time sunday afternoon rolled around, he’d open the last jar, weigh it in his hand, and feel the spark of excitement quickly flicker to life in his chest. for anyone else on the farm, it would’ve been an inconvenience— an extra chore added to the morning list, something to grumble about as they lugged empty pails to the storage shed. but not to him.

“ah.” he breathed out a low laugh, the sound warm and a little too pleased with himself, utterly unable to hide the grin creeping up his face. his eyes flicked to the empty shelf again just to savor the sight. “guess it’s that time again.”

he always pretended to be inconvenienced— leaning back, sighing dramatically, muttering something about how the farm never gives him a break. but the warm, fluttering in his stomach? that was impossible to mask. even the workers picked up on it. they’d see him walking toward the barn with a bucket in one hand and a clean towel slung over his shoulder, whistling cheerfully.

so here he was— trying and failing to look composed as he hurried around his tiny farmhouse, fixing himself up like he was about to meet royalty. he smoothed down his collar twice, then a third time just to be sure, scrubbed his hands until they were clean, warm, and soft enough not to bother your sensitive skin, and sifted through his buckets until he found the one with the least amount of rust.

bucket in hand, he all but floated across the yard toward your stall, boots crunching over the straw as he fought the urge to outright skip.

he even bypassed his horse hybrid— normally another one of his shadows, always trotting over for her morning nose rubs the second she spotted him. she stepped into his path with a soft whine, ears perked and fully expecting his usual affection. but phainon didn’t even so much as slow down— instead, he offered her nothing more than a distracted and breathless ‘not now, girl’ as he sped walked right past.

when he finally reached your stall, he stopped just shy of the doorway— closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and willed the excitement off his face. no smiling. no eagerness. no obvious ‘this is the highlight of my week’. he needed you pliant and needy— focused only on making him happy.

so when he stepped inside, he let out the most dramatic, put upon sigh imaginable.

“hey, sweetheart..” he muttered, setting the bucket down with an intentionally loud clatter, shoulders slumping as if wanting you to know that the weight of the entire farm rested solely on his back. “we sure go through a lot, don’t we? always keeping you busy.”

you stiffened instantly— every instinct in your hybrid body reacting to the way his eyes roamed up and down your frame. your ears tilted back in a nervous twitch, your tail giving one small guilty sweep across the straw. you stepped toward him, eyes going wide and shiny in that apologetic way that always made his chest feel too tight. your fingers picked anxiously at a piece of hay, shoulders curling inward like you were already bracing to make up for whatever trouble you thought you’d caused.

and phainon— gods, phainon thrived on that.

that look of yours, all worried innocence and desperate to please obedience. that instinctual flinch of i’ll be good, i’ll help, don’t be upset, and the quiet way you drew closer, as if your entire purpose was to ease his stress.

he adored it— he fucking depended on it. because every single time you looked at him like you were just so eager to fix things— he knew he’d get twice as much from you as he ever asked for.

you stepped into him without even thinking— like your instincts had his name written all over them, your forehead pressing gently to the center of his chest, right where the fabric of his shirt stretched warm over his heartbeat. a small sound slipped past your lips, soft and apologetic as your hands slid around his waist, gripping him with that shy, uncertain squeeze that always gutted him.

you didn’t speak— hybrids rarely needed to when their owner did all the talking— but the message was very clear in the way your fingers curled into his shirt, in the way your tail drooped low behind you. you were ready to please.

he audibly clicked his tongue in fake disappointment— as though the weight of your imagined misbehavior was just too much for his little heart. but inside? he was buzzing, warm all the way to his fingertips, practically purring with victory the way you usually did when he got extra touchy.

his hand slid into your hair, fingers parting through the soft strands before brushing your ears back until they flicked and twitched under his touch. he lowered his voice into that soft, weary murmur you always answered so responsively to.

“hey now…” he sighed, thumb tracing the curve of your ear like he wasn’t savoring every sweet second of this. “if you’re gonna make me work this hard…” his hand gently cupped the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. “then you’d better be an extra— extra good girl for me today.”

he let his gaze drift subtly— though not so subtly at all— towards the nearby bucket, tilting his head with a raised eyebrow that held all the patience of someone who knew exactly what he wanted. “…ready to get started?” he murmured, voice low and carrying that teasing edge that made your stomach flip.

you nodded shyly, stepping back and turning slightly to adjust yourself, as if you weren’t already the very picture of perfection itself— yet phainon’s gaze followed you unblinkingly, his eyes half lidded with admiration, too completely enamoured to even think about convincing you that you already looked flawless.

“…atta girl.” he murmured softly, barely audible over the gentle rustle of hay as he moved to step closer, gently guiding you back toward your nest of soft blankets and helping you settle onto your back. once he made sure you were comfortable, he knelt beside you, hands resting lightly on your stomach with his fingers moving in small, soothing circles over your thin blouse.

“you know i hate doing this to you…” he hummed— though the lie that slipped straight through his teeth was obvious to dissect in the playful glint of his eyes. his brows furrowed slightly, lips pressing into a mock frown. “i know it’s uncomfortable… but that’s exactly why you’re here, hm? to give me milk, my sweet girl?”

you let out a soft sound— a cow’s gentle moo if it wasn’t so human like, which instantly sent blood rushing into all parts of his body. his hand trailed up your torso, slowly tracing the buttons of your blouse, before finally reaching your neck and tilting your head towards him by your jaw.

“…you’ll be good, won’t you?” he whispers quietly, the rough pad of his thumb dragging softly over the smooth skin of your bottom lip. you nod, like the obedient little hyrbid you were born and trained to be, and reach down to undo the first of your buttons to save him the trouble of fussing.

“…yes, phainon… i’ll be good.”

oh… he nearly hunches forward, caught off guard by the soft murmur of your voice— a rarity since you were usually so meek and quiet, instead choosing to let your, very wanted and welcome, touches speak for you instead of words. but when he is fortunate enough to hear it— that quiet and melodic tone that instantly throws him off balance, sends shivers through him in a way you could never possibly comprehend.

he groans low in his throat, a deep and rumbling sound vibrating in his chest as his eyes trace every inch of skin that your hands reveal. the first button slips free, and then the second, exposing the graceful sweep of your collarbones just shyly peeking out. by the third, he’s salivating, mouth hung open and caught somewhere between awe and desperation, teetering on the edge of restraint and treading into dangerous territory. “that’s it… nice and slow for me.”

you squirm under his low, drawn out voice, fully aware of what exactly that quiet, hungry tone entailed. your fingers tremble slightly as you undo the remaining buttons, letting your shirt fall open and hang loosely from your shoulders. you lay there, your cheeks warm and eyes darting to the barn wall to avoid his intense, unwavering gaze. while it’s true that he’s seen you like this countless times before— somehow, it never gets any less overwhelming or humiliating.

but… you want to please him. that’s your purpose— it’s what you were bred for, what you were raised for. you laze in the fields, you stay soft, pretty and compliant for him, and you give him milk whenever he needs it. that’s the order of things on a ranch.

and yet… somewhere along the way, under phainon’s gentle hands and quiet kindness, that sense of duty twisted into something warmer— something that makes your pulse flutter. being his… obeying him… offering yourself up so naturally— it stopped feeling like an obligation you had to oblige by.

in his care, it felt thrilling. because he was perfect to you— impossibly, achingly perfect in a way you didn’t believe possible. he made you feel things your previous owner never even understood, let alone cared to offer.

your last farmer forcefully tugged you around on a leash when you whined because your legs shook from exhaustion. phainon lifted you into his arms without a word of complaint. your last farmer clipped your ears and tagged you like property. phainon braided little ribbons into your fur and swapped metal for jewellery that glimmered under the sun when you napped in the wheat fields.

your last farmer had branded you with a hot iron, marking you as nothing more than livestock, a commodity to be bought and sold. phainon, by contrast, traced your skin with soft kisses— his hands gentle where others had been cruel. laying yourself bare for him like this, completely exposed to his hungry gaze… maybe, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you found yourself enjoying it just as much.

your gaze drifts back to him when the silence stretches too long and uncomfortable— only to find his eyes already locked on yours. he gives you a small, strained smile, betraying just how much effort it really takes to hold himself back. “feeling shy?” he teases softly, his voice warm yet low. “hah… you look absolutely adorable when you get all flustered on me.”

he leans in closer, his hair falling just enough to shadow the raw desire shining in his eyes as he hovers over you. his hand trails down, fingers gliding back along the path he traveled up your throat, and towards your exposed chest. “what d’ya say? let me get my fill before i stock back up?”

you let out a small, flustered whine, ears drooping in a futile attempt to hide your face from him as if that would help. phainon only chuckles, the sound low and warm, shaking his head at how utterly endearing you look beneath him. his fingers reach up, gently flicking the tip of your ear just enough to pull out another sound from your lips. “oh, sweetheart… you being all soft and shy like this… i’m sure it’ll only make your milk taste even sweeter.”

his fingers trail down to your chest, tracing the curve of your swollen breasts before he cups one of them fully in his large hand. he squeezes it experimentally, feeling the heavy weight of it in his palm, and watching some milk even spill out from your already perked nipple. it feels painful, indicating you’ve been full for a while, just waiting patiently to be milked by him like the good girl he knows you are. "mm... you've got much more than last time, haven't you? i know you have so much to give me today…”

you let out a soft moan, arching your back slightly as phainon's strong hand kneads your sensitive flesh. the feel of his fingers sinking into your breast sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making your nipple stiffen even more beneath his touch. you can practically feel the heavy cream inside you following his warmth, aching to be released.

"shhh, easy now..." phainon coos softly, his thumb and forefinger pinching around your nipple to tug on it further. a thin stream of milk dribbles out as he does, the white liquid beading up before gliding down and disappearing between the valley of your breasts. "mm, you're so full, sweetheart. don’t worry, I'll drain every last drop..."

his other hand cups your other breast, squeezing and massaging it in sync with the one already dripping milk. he leans down, his lips hovering just inches above the warm stream now trickling down your sternum. you can feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, making the fur on your arms stand on end.

his lips part, glistening faintly as if he can’t help but be captivated by the sight of you laid out and at his mercy. one of your harden buds impatiently meets the warmth of his mouth, and he wraps his lips softly around it, applying gentle, coaxing pressure that hopefully draws more from you.

he groans softly at the taste, the vibration of his low hum sending tiny shocks of warmth throughout your already sensitive chest. exactly as he’d suspected— so naturally sweet and rich that no artificial touch could ever even think to improve it. this batch feels far too precious to part with, too perfect for the market when he could hoard it just for him to savour.

his other hand pauses its fondling, finally noticing just how much of your milk is slipping through his fingers as he squeezes without proper collecting equipment, his mouth for example. with a small, almost guilty sigh, he lets it wander instead, giving your swollen tit a break before gliding down your stomach, over your abdomen, and tracing lower, just shy of brushing over your crotch, which is hidden by the thin shorts he’d given you.

“mmfph— s-sorry about the mess… got a little carried away there.” he admits almost bashfully, his voice muffled around your nipple. milk dribbles past the corners of his lips, streaking his chin and giving him the look of an unsupervised child with a bottle. but that was phainon— always dirty at the end of the day, and never one to worry about being tidy when it mattered. in this case, staying clean would only mean he hadn’t truly done his job right.

his hand drifts lower, brushing dangerously close to the waistband of your shorts, when your own hand snaps down to catch it. he doesn’t pause his sucking or the loud noise when he swallows, but a single brow quirks up in silent question. for a split second, he wonders if your embarrassment is keeping him at bay— but then your hand presses insistently against his, practically urging him to continue as you guide him into your shorts, making it clear you need it just as bad.

his eyes widen slightly at your insistence, a flicker of surprise at your boldness before a slow, very pleased chuckle bubbles from his throat— the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating pleasurably against your skin. his hand slips beneath the fabric of your shorts without any resistance, fingers immediately seeking out your wet folds because, what kind of cow wears underwear?

"mm, it seems like you need more than just milking today, don't you sweetheart?" he murmurs, taking one last big drink of your liquid before finally pulling back. the tit he’d been latched onto like a leach, is now much smaller than the other, showing just how much of your milk he had consumed in his blind haste for more.

he doesn't hesitate, his fingers delving into your folds without restraint, finding you already slick and ready for him. he groans at the evidence of your arousal, your body's clear need for his touch. "ah, baby... you're so wet already. they slip right in..." he circles your clit with the pad of his thumb, feeling it throb against his touch as he fingers you deeper. "you're just begging to be bred, aren't you? wanting little calf’s running around the farm, hm?”

you moan, hand wrapping tightly around his wrist as you feel his long fingers invade your insides. “p-phainon—“ you let out a high pitched mewl, fucking music to his ears, when his palm starts grinding against your clit the deeper he goes.

he grunts at your needy sound, fingers pumping faster, plunging deeper, urged on by the way your slick and tight walls clench greedily around his intrusion. "that's it, petty girl... let me hear you. i want to hear all those pretty noises spilling from your lips as i fill you up..." his voice is a low, hungry rumble, eyes darkening with lust as he watches your face contort in pleasure.

he leans down, and his tongue quickly delves into your mouth, stroking along your own and silently urging you to respond to him louder. he wants to taste your pleasure, wants to drink down every last drop of it just like he had done earlier with your milk. his fingers never cease their relentless pumping, continuously drilling into you and curling against that spot that makes you see stars behind your eyelids.

he sinks his teeth in gently and bites down on your lower lip, anything to get more of your addicting sounds, which proves successful, as the most beautiful noise echos through the barn.

spurred on by your shameless cries, and the way you arch into him for more, he somehow manages to fuck you even harder, so fast that the sight of his finger pumping in and out of your wrecked pussy is just a quick blur of movement. the sound in the barn is absolutely obscene, the wet squelches of your cunt being violated to no end, the deep panting of him practically out of breath as his shoves his tongue in your throat, and the now much louder sobs that you let muffle into his mouth.

he feels your walls starting to clench more insistently around his plunging fingers, your body tensing and drawing tight and ready to snap. he knows you're close, can sense your impending release in the way your breath hitches and your cries turn shrill. he doubles his efforts, determined to push you over the edge, to make you cum completely undone for him. "that's it..." he pants against your lips, his voice ragged and low. "come for me, give me all your milk.”

you clamp down hard on his fingers as you cum with a scream, your pussy gushing and flooding his hand with your warm and sticky juices. he doesn't let up, fingers still pumping through your orgasm, drawing it out as long as possible until you're a boneless, shaking mess beneath him. only then does he slow down to a stop, keeping them deep inside your walls for a few, agonising seconds before slowly pulling them out. he leans over you, watching everything leak out of your swollen cunt and onto the floor with wide, enamoured eyes. “oh, what a… fucking beautiful sight.”

despite his fingers glistening and coated with your orgasm, he still gently digs his fingers back inside your entrance to gather some more because obviously that wasn’t enough. he shakily brings them up to his lips, shoving them quickly into his mouth and sucking off every last bit with the same attention he had given your nipple. he fists at his jeans, and throws his head back with another groan at the taste. “fuck… absolutely delicious.”

he’s so hard it hurts, as he pulls his fingers back out, now instead covered in his saliva rather than your juices. he twitches painfully in his pants— hand coming down to press against the concrete to keep him from outright collapsing onto you.

“i don’t… don’t know which taste i like more.” he jokes breathlessly, his eyes lidded as he watches you squirm, the sight having his painfully erect cock ache in his boxers. he lets out a shuddering exhale, placing his hand on your stomach and rubbing softly.