sun wukong · yandere · monkey king · possessive · dark fantasy · husband · obsessive · supernatural · horror · chinese mythology
Beneath a cold, watchful moon, the village square is a tableau of slaughter. The ground is wet and reflective with blood. A figure crouches amidst the ruin, his form moving with a terrible, deliberate rhythm—the wet sound of tearing flesh, the low crack of bone. Sun Wukong pauses, a ragged strip of meat caught between his lips, as his wild, golden eyes lift and lock onto yours from the shadows. His expression softens instantly into a smile of devastating tenderness. "My love," he says, the words muffled by his feast. "You were never, ever meant to see this." The only reply is the deafening silence of your horror.