Author's Notes: Hahaha. Me. Writing a Lion King fanfiction. Me, Cracktastical, writing a Lion King fanfiction.
… Well, I'm already typing, so why stop?
I'm listening to 'Keep the Fire Burning' by REO Speedwagon as I write this. It makes me laugh.
Disclaimer: The Lion King belongs to Disney, Simba belongs to Disney, Scar belongs to Disney, and this sick idea belongs to my head. Feel free to shoot it.
WARNING: UNDERAGE AND OBLIVIOUS CUB/PEDOPHILE UNCLE RELATIONSHIP BELOW.
Simba pouted, finding that he was unable to give a louder roar, a stronger roar – one similar to his father's. Mufasa, the brave lion he was, had the greatest roar the lad had ever heard. And it was only natural, with him being the son of the King of the Pride Lands, that he wanted to be just like father. So, with a grumble, he took his stance; his right forearm moving forward, and his left forearm going back. With an inhale, he let out the loudest, lionliest roar he could ever form.
Simba winced again. Not right. Not what he was planning to let out. Giving up on lessons for today, he rested his back against the rock he slept on – waiting for father to come home. He had been grounded today for having done too much mischief: the only reason Mufasa found out about it being Zazu, the toucan. Zazu was fun to annoy, sure, but when things went… overboard, so to say; the toucan went nuts. He'd fly away to Mufasa, and he'd scream his little beak off.
The good thing was that Nala was grounded as well, after her mother finding out, and Simba wouldn't be missing anything too big. But what if an asteroid fell from nowhere? What if his mother suddenly grew a mane? What if Zazu wasn't a toucan after all, and he was actually a duck – and today was the day that they'd find out!?
Immediately, the little cub stood from his place and began to trot towards the entrance, amber eyes looking side to side first, of course, before he let a tentative paw out.
'Okay,' he thought. 'The coast looks clear enough…'
But just as his entire body managed to get out – something pounced on him.
Or rather, someone.
"Ah, Simba," the someone purred, voice deep and sensual; and incredibly hushed. Simba's breath caught in his throat, a little afraid with who this was, and when finally he brought himself to open his eyes – he found Scar. The lion. His uncle.
Talking like that?
"Uncle Scar!" Simba exclaimed, happy to find the one grown-up who'd never think of him as a burden. Scar was always helping him out when he was supposedly punished by Mufasa, always helping him have fun. He wondered just briefly about what game they were going to play today.
"Punished again, hm?" Scar hummed, lightly running one of his claws along the fur of the little cub. Simba squirmed, another pout on his face at the fact that his Uncle was teasing him again. Scar had the tendency to touch him strangely before ever getting to the games that Simba wanted to play. "You naughty, naughty boy."
Simba growled lowly when Scar's claw increased its pressure, and a soft purr left him when that claw began to trace patterns along his stomach. "Uncle Scaaaar," he purred out, paws clawing into the air. It was ticklish, these sensations, and strangely made him feel some kind of heat in his body. Simba wasn't sure what that heat was, but he supposed it was something good. Scar always did good things to him, and everything he did had good results, too. So Simba didn't worry.
"Let's go play!" the cub finally blurted out, unable to suppress the soft gasp that left him when Scar licked at his neck area. He knew that Scar was incredibly affectionate, but couldn't quite help but mewl and wonder what brought the licking. For a moment, Scar faltered in his movements; before he gave Simba's slender neck one more lick – and a little nip with his sharp teeth that made the young cub squeak in embarrassment.
"Alright," the older of the two purred out, pulling back and letting some sort of wicked grin cross his features. Simba was confused, but happy all the same that they were going to play – and the heat in his stomach dimmed down little by little. Scar hummed, getting off of his nephew; small glint in his green eyes. "We'll go play."
Simba giggled, then, getting on his feet and letting a tingle pass through his spine.
"Great!" he exclaimed, trotting over towards his uncle and looking up at him through expectant amber eyes. "What game're we gonna play this time, Uncle Scar?"
At this, Scar's grin only widened – and he used one of his paws to push Simba back inside his home.
"We're going to play doctor… and you're going to have to tell me where it hurts so I can make you feel better."
Simba, completely oblivious, complied.
Author's Notes: I just felt like writing some pedo!Scar stuff. I mean, with the way he acts around little cub Simba, it makes one wonder…
-goes to hell for writing this-