You and Me After All by Chiaztolite

Weakness

He had always suspected that one day, one moment of weakness would lead him to his downfall.

The trees in the woods bore silent witness to his failure. Her tear-stained face would be the last thing he remembered, along with her whisper, pleading to his better nature in a voice thick with tears.

She would soon learn he had none.

“Sesshōmaru. This is not you.”

The miko was wrong. The sophisticated façade he had always shown the world was essentially a mask, a cladding so easily shattered. Like her priestess garb which he tore away from her body with his teeth and claws.

If she cried more, he would not know it. If she begged him to stop, he would not hear it. He was oblivious to anything and everything besides the beast and its demands. The unquenchable thirst to own and dominate.

He did not stop even when her virgin blood scented the air, smeared over turgid flesh which he shoved inside her repeatedly.

He had known all along this weakness also lived inside him. Impossible to exorcise. Rooted to the bone like a disease, dormant for centuries only to erupt without warning, taking over his consciousness and all the sophisticated faculties he had ever cultivated.

He despised his father even more for it.