Naga!Pythor x Reader

Talking Animals? You Would Think This Was a Disney Movie, but Those End Well

Selma shook her head, "They think Acidicus took that with him . . . They had some mixed up, of course, but they were meant to work on other Serpentine, not humans. Lizaru contributed some venom to help, even, but Venomari venom isn't like hypnotism, you can't just snap out of it because of a trigger or from the staff," she peered at your face, "They flushed out your eyes, I'm just glad you didn't ingest any of it."

There was a pause, and you set the glass down on the stand beside you, "So what happens to the Venomari now?"

"Lizaru takes over if no one challenges him," she looked to the table, and started punching a number in on the phone upon it.

"Is he really in the right state of mind now to lead? Or to be challenged, for that matter? I mean, anything's better than Acidicus, but I don't want Lizaru to be driven crazy too," you trailed off.

"There's a grace period after someone becomes General where a slither pit cannot be called. And since he's inherited the title, the Venomari council has to vote to approve his role anyway," She paused, hand over the final button.

"Doesn't the General appoint half the council? If they're loyal to Acidicus, won't they oppose Lizaru?" you furled a brow.

"That's only half, and I'm sure even his closest can realize how deranged he was. I don't know if you're aware, but suicide is detested by Serpentine society, no one's going to be jumping to his defense too anxiously," she sighed as she hit the button to dial.

You sit quietly as the phone rang.

"Pythor, of the Anacondrai. State your business," his voice came stoic over the line.

"She's up," Selma said simply with a smirk.

"Hi, Py," you said softly, unintentionally interrupting him as he started to burst out a string of excited sentiments.

"Oh, my love! Up! Good! Yes!" There was a crash and some shuffling, then silence except for static.

Selma rolled her eyes, "He didn't even hang up."

There was only a few moments of small talk before he came bursting through the door. He stopped, a rather child-like crooked grin curving across his lips at your smile.

He slithered over, embracing you with the same delicateness as Selma. You hooked your hands around his torso, squeezing him tightly, nuzzling into the side of his neck, and breathing in his scent with each slow breath.

His lips brushed over the top of your ear, drifting down to the lobe, "Are you alright?" he whispered, a feather-like touch tracing over the cut.

You closed your eyes, "yeah," you whispered back, "The cut isn't that deep."

Selma waved, exiting, a wry grin across her face as she closed the door behind her.

Pythor curled his tail up under him, an elbow on the bed, "And what of the venom and its effects?"

"I remember odd things, it was a living fever dream, an extreme acid trip," you scoffed, "Not that I really know what that feels like. I'm-I'm sorry I upset you," You leaned back, focusing on the pale ceiling.

He shook his head, "There is nothing to be sorry for, my dear, except on my part. I should have never let you depart alone. I knew he was unhinged, but not so . . . desperate," he winced, looking almost ill, his eyes trailing over your throat.

You groped for his hand till he gave it to you, "You put too much blame on yourself, Py, too much weight on your shoulders. Don't cripple yourself with grief."

He brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the back of your knuckles softly, "I don't learn unless I ache."

He closed his eyes and let you cup his jawline, fingers tracing the comforting roughness of his stubble.