It had been 6 months, 8 days, 12 hours and 15 seconds since he had last seen the so called ‘villianess’ Yzma. Not that he was counting or anything, he just had an excellent sense of time…maybe.
“Order’s up!” Kronk called out with a false enthusiasm that sounded wrong even to his own ears. He winced lightly as the old woman who he had come to know as his boss lifted her heavy eyelids to give him a look.
”You alright hun?” She asked in her bland, bland voice. Hmph, like she even cared.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind Kronk shook his head violently, guilt automatically consuming him. He looked everywhere but her face, frantically stirring the pot of the soup of the day in front of him, stuttering as he spoke.
”A-Alright? I’m great! I’ve never been better! Yup! I’m not missing her or any-“ He froze then, biting his lip and feeling sweat form on his brow. The silence between them elongated and no matter how much he hoped and hoped she hadn’t heard, chances were, she had.
Try as he might, Kronk was unable to stop himself from looking up at the woman through the small window, nearly gnawing his bottom lip off. Her eyelids were up high enough that he could see her small, black pupils. “Her?”
And as if some divine power was on his side, the whistle blew, signaling his shift was over. The waitress rolled her eyes and took the tray of food from the windowsill, “Have a nice night, hun.” Was all she said before turning away and going to serve the customers.
Kronk’s sigh of relief was so deep that he nearly slumped over. That was a close one! Too close, gah, he hated when he was nervous; every damn time he’d always betray himself and say exactly what was on his mind.
At least he hadn’t been too specific. With any luck the old woman would blow it off and continue on her cynical way. Besides, for all she knew Kronk could have been talking about a young new girlfriend. Certainly nobody believed that he actually MISSED Yzma, right?
The young man removed his chef’s hat from his head, setting it down on the counter in front of him before, staring at the wooden surface. “Why do I even care?”
”Eyyyy~ Kronky!”
“GAHH!!” He nearly jumped right out of his skin, whirling around in surprise Kronk saw that before him the very Emperor himself; watching him with a raised eyebrow. “You okay there Kronky?”
His palms were getting wet. “A-Ah, yeah! I’m fine! Fine! W-Why wouldn’t I be? How are you?”
The fact that Kronk said that entire sentence in less than 2 seconds had Kuzco a bit suspicious, but he didn’t quite dwell on the topic. “I’m doing good but boy,” He put his hands on his stomach. “Am I starving!”
’Calm down’ Kronk told himself over and over again, taking deep breaths ‘Calm down.’
”S-Starving? R-Really? Uhm,” He grabbed and fiddled with the first thing he could find, that being his llama shaped oven mitts. (courtesy of Kuzco, who seemed to develop a borderline obsession for the creatures after his little ‘adventure’)
Kronk fiddled with them, brushing his fingers over them and picking at imaginary bits of food, not looking at Kuzco, afraid that he’d be figured out if he did. “D-Don’t you have personal chef’s at the palace?”
The young emperor nodded, eyeing the kitchen as he stepped closer to Kronk, he toyed lightly with a few of the pots and pans hanging above the stove. “Yeah, but the family invited me out to dinner, they’re celebrating something or another but I cannot STAND peasant food.” He chuckled lightly, “Call it a curse for being raised as a palace brat. Think you could whip me up something really fast?”
To be honest, Kronk didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to do anything for the emperor. Having never admitted it, he always harbored a heavy hatred for the young man; he had been the cause of all of this.
His callousness towards Yzma had turned her into something she wasn’t. In a simple string of words he took from her everything that she was and hoped to be.
Regardless of his changed attitude, Kronk found it difficult to forgive Kuzco, but for the sake of keeping the appearance that all was forgiven, Kronk smiled at the young man, putting the oven mitts on and ignoring the foul taste in his mouth. “Sure, what’ll it be?”
With an almost heaving sigh, Kronk made his way out of the restaurant, thanks to ‘his royal highness’ he was forced to work well past his shift, and of course how could he say no to the Emperor and his faux family?
Well, he could say no, but doing so would result in his head coming off. New disposition or not, Kuzco was an emperor, a spoiled emperor still used to getting exactly what he wanted.
The young chef watched the sun begin to go down and grunted almost angrily, thanks to Kuzco, he would have to run to the market and hope he could still get some supplies before opening tomorrow morning.
His jog there wasn’t a big deal, really. Though it prompted from him more nostalgia then he was comfortable with. He knew these roads well, even from before he began working at the restaurant.
’She really hated this jungle, remember?’
His shoulder devil spoke, and the obligatory ‘poof’ followed as his form appeared, sitting lazily on Kronk, picking lightly at his nails.
For the moment, Kronk ignored him, keeping his breathing even and paced as he continued moving through the trees, jumping lightly over a puddle as he approached it.
‘Why do you think that is?’ The second obligatory poof, and his shoulder angel appeared, plucking lightly at the strings of his harp. Kronk still didn’t answer either of them, so instead they answered for him.
’Most likely cause she always seemed to get covered in mud every time you two jogged here.’
’You mean, he jogged while she sat on his back?’
’Yeah, that’s right.’
“Uh, guys?”
’It was kind of hot though, the way she hung all over you. Leaning out of her little cabana and pressing her body right up against your back.’
Kronk gulped lightly at the memory, his face beginning to flush.
His shoulder angel spoke, shaking his head lightly. ‘Such a lustful creature that woman.’
’Oh please, I never heard you complaining.’ The angel flushed, and with a smirk the devil continued. “You’d think she wouldn’t have the energy for fucking in a rainforest, but hell Yzma was never one to actually act her AGE.’
‘Whatever that might be.’
”Guys…” Kronk squeaked out lightly, his throat becoming heavy.
They ignored him.
’Still, it was fucking hot. Never seen anyone enjoy being fucked up against a tree so much.’
The angel hummed lightly in agreement, plucking the strings on his harp. ‘She was talented at all that she did. Such charisma.’
At this point, Kronk’s face was crimson as he remembered, rather unwillingly how he would run daily though these forests, memorizing the roads and straining against the erection in his pants. Always caused by her, of course.
His body would jolt, pleasure shuddering through him with each teasing brush of Yzma’s fingernails to the back of his neck.
She’d tease him mercilessly, force him to take off his shirt as he ran and nip at his ear when he would least expect it. She’d watch him with absolutely no shame, eyes conveying a lust that Kronk in all his life knew he could never comprehend.
It was always the same, the moment she’d gaze at him this way he would lose all of his control.
He’d grip her wide, wide hips and without any sort of inhibition he’d press her up against a nearby tree, or down onto the ground, and enter her right then and there, her lips twisted in a constant devious smirk. Then again, why not smirk? She knew exactly what she had been doing to him, and enjoyed the power she had over his lust.
The memory played out before his eyes, her thin yet strong, so strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist, forcing him deeper and deeper inside of her, enjoying the feel of him shamelessly.
He always felt so deliciously filthy fucking her in the forest, her body arching off of wet rotting bark, her clothing strewn, often ripped from his own impatience to get on with it.
It never ceased to amaze him just how loud and lewd her cries of ecstasy were, after a few of his powerful thrusting she’d lose all sense of herself, a writhing mound of pleasure, inviting him closer, deeper, again and again.
Heat pooled in Kronk’s belly at the memory, he licked his lips as he ran, eyes glassy and mind far off from the world, unable to hear the warning cries of his consciousness.
It had been 6 months, 8 days, 12 hours and 15 seconds since he had last seen the so called ‘villianess’ Yzma. Not that he was counting or anything, he just had an excellent sense of time…maybe.
“Order’s up!” Kronk called out with a false enthusiasm that sounded wrong even to his own ears. He winced lightly as the old woman who he had come to know as his boss lifted her heavy eyelids to give him a look.
”You alright hun?” She asked in her bland, bland voice. Hmph, like she even cared.
As soon as the thought crossed his mind Kronk shook his head violently, guilt automatically consuming him. He looked everywhere but her face, frantically stirring the pot of the soup of the day in front of him, stuttering as he spoke.
”A-Alright? I’m great! I’ve never been better! Yup! I’m not missing her or any-“ He froze then, biting his lip and feeling sweat form on his brow. The silence between them elongated and no matter how much he hoped and hoped she hadn’t heard, chances were, she had.
Try as he might, Kronk was unable to stop himself from looking up at the woman through the small window, nearly gnawing his bottom lip off. Her eyelids were up high enough that he could see her small, black pupils. “Her?”
And as if some divine power was on his side, the whistle blew, signaling his shift was over. The waitress rolled her eyes and took the tray of food from the windowsill, “Have a nice night, hun.” Was all she said before turning away and going to serve the customers.
Kronk’s sigh of relief was so deep that he nearly slumped over. That was a close one! Too close, gah, he hated when he was nervous; every damn time he’d always betray himself and say exactly what was on his mind.
At least he hadn’t been too specific. With any luck the old woman would blow it off and continue on her cynical way. Besides, for all she knew Kronk could have been talking about a young new girlfriend. Certainly nobody believed that he actually MISSED Yzma, right?
The young man removed his chef’s hat from his head, setting it down on the counter in front of him before, staring at the wooden surface. “Why do I even care?”
”Eyyyy~ Kronky!”
“GAHH!!” He nearly jumped right out of his skin, whirling around in surprise Kronk saw that before him the very Emperor himself; watching him with a raised eyebrow. “You okay there Kronky?”
His palms were getting wet. “A-Ah, yeah! I’m fine! Fine! W-Why wouldn’t I be? How are you?”
The fact that Kronk said that entire sentence in less than 2 seconds had Kuzco a bit suspicious, but he didn’t quite dwell on the topic. “I’m doing good but boy,” He put his hands on his stomach. “Am I starving!”
’Calm down’ Kronk told himself over and over again, taking deep breaths ‘Calm down.’
”S-Starving? R-Really? Uhm,” He grabbed and fiddled with the first thing he could find, that being his llama shaped oven mitts. (courtesy of Kuzco, who seemed to develop a borderline obsession for the creatures after his little ‘adventure’)
Kronk fiddled with them, brushing his fingers over them and picking at imaginary bits of food, not looking at Kuzco, afraid that he’d be figured out if he did. “D-Don’t you have personal chef’s at the palace?”
The young emperor nodded, eyeing the kitchen as he stepped closer to Kronk, he toyed lightly with a few of the pots and pans hanging above the stove. “Yeah, but the family invited me out to dinner, they’re celebrating something or another but I cannot STAND peasant food.” He chuckled lightly, “Call it a curse for being raised as a palace brat. Think you could whip me up something really fast?”
To be honest, Kronk didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to do anything for the emperor. Having never admitted it, he always harbored a heavy hatred for the young man; he had been the cause of all of this.
His callousness towards Yzma had turned her into something she wasn’t. In a simple string of words he took from her everything that she was and hoped to be.
Regardless of his changed attitude, Kronk found it difficult to forgive Kuzco, but for the sake of keeping the appearance that all was forgiven, Kronk smiled at the young man, putting the oven mitts on and ignoring the foul taste in his mouth. “Sure, what’ll it be?”
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Well, he could say no, but doing so would result in his head coming off. New disposition or not, Kuzco was an emperor, a spoiled emperor still used to getting exactly what he wanted.
The young chef watched the sun begin to go down and grunted almost angrily, thanks to Kuzco, he would have to run to the market and hope he could still get some supplies before opening tomorrow morning.
His jog there wasn’t a big deal, really. Though it prompted from him more nostalgia then he was comfortable with. He knew these roads well, even from before he began working at the restaurant.
’She really hated this jungle, remember?’
His shoulder devil spoke, and the obligatory ‘poof’ followed as his form appeared, sitting lazily on Kronk, picking lightly at his nails.
For the moment, Kronk ignored him, keeping his breathing even and paced as he continued moving through the trees, jumping lightly over a puddle as he approached it.
‘Why do you think that is?’ The second obligatory poof, and his shoulder angel appeared, plucking lightly at the strings of his harp. Kronk still didn’t answer either of them, so instead they answered for him.
’Most likely cause she always seemed to get covered in mud every time you two jogged here.’
’You mean, he jogged while she sat on his back?’
’Yeah, that’s right.’
“Uh, guys?”
’It was kind of hot though, the way she hung all over you. Leaning out of her little cabana and pressing her body right up against your back.’
Kronk gulped lightly at the memory, his face beginning to flush.
His shoulder angel spoke, shaking his head lightly. ‘Such a lustful creature that woman.’
’Oh please, I never heard you complaining.’ The angel flushed, and with a smirk the devil continued. “You’d think she wouldn’t have the energy for fucking in a rainforest, but hell Yzma was never one to actually act her AGE.’
‘Whatever that might be.’
”Guys…” Kronk squeaked out lightly, his throat becoming heavy.
They ignored him.
’Still, it was fucking hot. Never seen anyone enjoy being fucked up against a tree so much.’
The angel hummed lightly in agreement, plucking the strings on his harp. ‘She was talented at all that she did. Such charisma.’
At this point, Kronk’s face was crimson as he remembered, rather unwillingly how he would run daily though these forests, memorizing the roads and straining against the erection in his pants. Always caused by her, of course.
His body would jolt, pleasure shuddering through him with each teasing brush of Yzma’s fingernails to the back of his neck.
She’d tease him mercilessly, force him to take off his shirt as he ran and nip at his ear when he would least expect it. She’d watch him with absolutely no shame, eyes conveying a lust that Kronk in all his life knew he could never comprehend.
It was always the same, the moment she’d gaze at him this way he would lose all of his control.
He’d grip her wide, wide hips and without any sort of inhibition he’d press her up against a nearby tree, or down onto the ground, and enter her right then and there, her lips twisted in a constant devious smirk. Then again, why not smirk? She knew exactly what she had been doing to him, and enjoyed the power she had over his lust.
The memory played out before his eyes, her thin yet strong, so strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist, forcing him deeper and deeper inside of her, enjoying the feel of him shamelessly.
He always felt so deliciously filthy fucking her in the forest, her body arching off of wet rotting bark, her clothing strewn, often ripped from his own impatience to get on with it.
It never ceased to amaze him just how loud and lewd her cries of ecstasy were, after a few of his powerful thrusting she’d lose all sense of herself, a writhing mound of pleasure, inviting him closer, deeper, again and again.
Heat pooled in Kronk’s belly at the memory, he licked his lips as he ran, eyes glassy and mind far off from the world, unable to hear the warning cries of his consciousness.
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