SDR2 SPOILERS & a bit of gore, if that counts? It's not much but it's there. 

His goddess.

His lady, his arc, his pillar, his world, his sky, his night, his body, his.

She should all be his.

She's his lifeline, and he knows it. She knows it when red nails trickle across his chin, when they stroke his jawline, his cheekbones. His heart blossoms in his chest, a flower blooming to life, but not the innocent kind, no.

It's the type of flower that signifies utmost loyalty, that he would smash his heart against broken stone and shatter it without a second thought if she asked him for it.

It's the type of flower that has blood tainting it's petals, staining a dark heart even darker.

"Hmmmm... Ah, you're fond of your words, no...?"

The words come out in a drawl, and as he's kneeling at her throne, where she lounges upon like the goddess she is, the woman traces her fingernails over the curve of his lips. For a moment, she stares them down before her face splits open in a wicked smile, one that pulls at the corners of his face and bears it like the devil would.

"What if we were to take that away?"

She yanks at his chin roughly, as if to try and snap his neck, but he rises before she has to the chance to do it fully. His form is stark and bold, a shadow that falls upon her, but once she stands from her throne, she's the one with the most attention. She's the one that stands out in the darkness.

He is all but another vessel for her to use, a vessel that she can dispose of at any point in time. Everything is hers. She is his everything.

He takes notice of the glint in her hands, and when the cold print of the blade is placed upon the curve of his lips, he doesn't flinch. He bears a paper crown of a king, but once before his empress, it goes up in ashes.

He is but a doll in the shadow of Enoshima Junko.

"Tanaka Gundam..."

She hums, dragging the blade with a light touch down the side of his lip. The skin splits open with such careful precision, and he can already feel his words being cut up.

If she wishes him to stop speaking, so be it. The king wields his words similar to one that brandishes a sword, full of pride. Maggots eat away at his heart, there's no point in saving a burning city that rests inside his body.

Poison leaks within his veins, a river of all that this world was destined to be. A wasteland that could do nothing outside of destroying lives, bit by bit.

"Aren't you my darling little pet?"

Her words hiss near his near, with the voice in harmony to a snake of undying beauty. One finger eases down his jawline, pushing down with force to open his mouth.

"Wouldn't a twisted tongue be fun to speak with?"