This first one is kinda boring to be honest, but do not be discouraged as I've nothing to write about and this just sprung to mind. I kinda wanted to practice writing a darker side of Lupin so I did. I tried to add as much Snape as possible without sounding it centric on Lupin but I couldn't resist! Sorry my guys. The next ones will be full of Snape, I assure you.

The Main Domain
Rated: +18 – language; violence; awesome sad stuff right here
Summary: a bunch of little stories written on request with Snape being submissive and tortured in any way, shape, or form. Gimmie us your preferred up of angsty tea/pairing and let's get to work. SLASH.
Genre: Angst

The Deafening Silence
Summary: Lupin's jealous. He shouldn't be.
Pairing: Lupin/Snape, Snape/James
Methods of angst: dark love, jealousy, love of pain, secrecy, dark!Lupin, silent suffering, James bashing
Parts: 1/1?
Requested: no request

Lupin

I was jealous of James – deeply undeniable jealous.

He loved her. Why the hell would he want to get my prize? Sirius asked me what was wrong and I told him nothing was wrong except Moony was bloody angry at James because he was stealing away the only person he was secretly in love with ever since he really looked at those dark eyes of him. I remembered those days that I'd pass by James' room and see Snape curling up towards him. He was tiny for his age, thin, small, delicate, butterfly – nearly ten times prettier than her and I was with her. I hated the scent of her hair. I wanted him.

I watched James countless of times, stealing away his invisibility cloak and hiding in the background with wide eyes as James encircled a perfect nail into Snape's thigh, and I could hear Snape's harsh breathing. Polyjuice potions helped paint lies. James, it wasn't her. Snape will never be her. Stop touching him. Maybe it was just a little bit of jealousy but it killed. I wanted to touch Snape's skin so badly. Bruise it, mark it as my own. My possession never to be touched by James again and those pretty little purple-blue bruises would be in the shape of my heart.

When James had seen me with Lily, anger spread in him like a virus. I still snaked my arms around her waist and kissed her. I nearly made his heart burn every minute he stared back at me and when he told me that he had wanted Lily for years, I just stared back at him I've wanted Snape even longer and produced the fakest smile, telling him I hadn't known.

He hit me.

Lily came to my aid, screaming at James, which just made poor Remus look more like a poor old sod. She 'nursed' me back to health but forgot the most horrible emotionally inflicted wounds that I'd allowed to carve out my heart and skin. Sirius told me it wasn't cool and I wanted to retort that it wasn't cool either when James stole my beloved away from my hands. I could still hear Snape's sharp breathing and could still see glittering eyes, softly begging in the darkness, could still hear the hushed breathing of "hurt me, James. Make me feel worth of something" and James wouldn't care about the emotional pain Snape was going through.

Snape seemed to show up around classes with more and more cuts and bruises, every cut seemed to puncture through my heart and every bruise felt like it was directed towards me and days and days after, I lied in bed thinking...why did James hate me so much? I wanted to abuse. I wanted to hurt. I wanted to hold. I wanted to cry. I wanted a million different emotions to burst open like a wound and be left untreated.

"You knew about Lily," James spat out darkly to me day after day. "You had to know," his voice was weaker afterwards.

Was it just cruel that I didn't care? I was becoming the monster that I didn't want to become, penetrated and triggered by James. Countless of times, I've been caught staring at Snape, just daydreaming and James was too clueless to understand the pure concept of my addiction, my obsession. He was too blind in the path of lilies and daises that he didn't notice such a delicate beauty before him, Snape could be even more beautiful than every lily in the world – and it was something about those lips and it was something in those eyes and it was something in feeling that skin –

It. Broke. Me.

I cornered James one afternoon.

James opened his mouth to speak but the truth spun out of my lips faster, the words rolling off my pink tongue, sliding effortlessly. "I'm jealous of you."

The first thing he did was laugh then glare at me with some sort of coldness in his eyes. "Why? You've got Lily. What more could you possibly want?" The man you keep abusing with fingers and teeth bites. I want to rip him apart with my revolting werewolf teeth, inflict the pain he longed for, make him relish in the reality of the situation... after all, pain was real. This was the only way to prove love I'd learned. I had to be in pure and utter pain to describe the pure reality of love. Love was built on tests and agony, and could only be proved by so—

And Snape wanted to be hurt. His Father abused him and Daddy was dead and now he wanted solace. He wanted pain to feel close to someone again and I was the same (years of being fucked up had its advantages after all).

"I am jealous every night," I let out a breath that felt like it was being held in for years, "that you take Snape like he's a nobody and just hurt him like that...sexually..."

The shock on James' face was priceless. I was Remus fucking Lupin, the sweetest person on the face of the Earth that peed rainbow piss and drank unicorn cupcake happiness for breakfast, why would I want to use and abuse? But the thoughts never exited my mind. My one and only friend had no idea of who I truly was, the person I'd let myself become – and years after much abuse from peers, the only way a werewolf loved was to inflict pain, bites and scratches and little red cuts that marked their prey as theirs—almost as if telling other werewolves to not touch the prey. "Remus..."

"You can have her. I don't like ramming her up the wall anyway. I always just wanted him," I whispered softly. For some reason, the look on his face, the shock that had created so much anguished understanding allowed me to feel as emptier, hollow, and left filthy and rotten. I truly realised my intentions then, cruel and disgusting, but could I have told James that I still wanted to be so vile? That I needed it? That I needed...him? That I needed to punish and inflict him with pain until I was guilty enough to somehow kill myself and nobody would care?

"Remus!" he exclaimed again, holding onto my shoulders and looking at me. Eyes softening they looked more like liquid. "You're hurting yourself with all of these thoughts. Is this about all the times that Sirius and I played pranks on you? Is this some sort of need for dominance? Because, I'm so sorry—"

Then I said the words I didn't think I'd ever say.

"It's a werewolf thing. You won't understand."

James gasped. I'd truly lost my own humanity he'd concluded. He stared at me as if watching a friend dead, with such paleness and shock to his face. But he'd allowed me to have Severus in exchange for me dumping Lily and within a week, Lily and James were together and—he'd left me. He didn't care that I'd lost my mind. There was so much satisfaction in him leaving me. It just showed he didn't care. I didn't deserve care. I was vile to my intentions and I wished I could fucking stop.

But sometimes, when I was pinning Snape to the wall, nails in thighs, werewolf bites covering his flesh viciously, as I pounded in and out of him again and again – with such a inhuman force that it made both of us disappear into the pain for a moment. I cradled him sometimes and I cried into his chest whilst he remained silence.

He – she – we – were always just silent in bed.

The silence lingered like perfume to the brain. Lily was pregnant. She came around and puked and cried and told me that the baby was in no way James as she'd experienced the morning sickness and all sorts of other things when we were dating but to my complete and utter relief, the baby had not carried the werewolf gene that condemned emotion from me. I held her, hugged her, embraced her to the very bone and watched Snape stare at us in complete and utter silence.

Snape was always one to fight, but now he was just so fucking silent. I didn't know if we broke a nerve in his brain or made him lose his passions then he brewed potions and potions and there were circles under his eyes as he'd given Lily countless of potions to help ease her pregnancy then one to allow the child to look like James. He made countless and countless of potions for a man that used him to pretend to be Lily, fucked him, abused him – and I was so fucking jealous. Oh, you have no idea. I just wanted to slap him back into thinking I was perfect for him because we were perfect for each other, dammit. He thrived off the pain that I gave him and I relished in my destructive half, watching myself wallow away into madness, drowning into painful waters and I could remember days where I'd slash his wrists, splash his cuts with firewhiskey and hiss at him, call him worthless—because I felt worthless. I felt so worthless.

"Harry, you look just like your Father."

Nobody ever wondered if he'd looked too unusually like his Father because they were fucking stupid. They were still fucking stupid when I put on acts of kindness and niceness – sometimes, I felt like I was really acting throughout my life and then the night came and Severus would be into my arms again. Then James died.

And my child, my Harry, did not even know I was the real Father. He didn't know that reality was harder and more cruel than he'd ever imagine. When Sirius and I met again, he and I exchanged smiles and glances and an embrace. It was warm and cold and made me feel sad. I lied. I lied over and over again and again.

I didn't talk to Snape much. The only time I really went to him was for the potions. I didn't know if he grew out of the pain phases during high school or not but God, he looked so pretty. His depression hung on him like perfume and it was rather pretty. I wondered if I'd ever love him if he was ever happy for once in his life – if he was not cruel-hearted Snape, pushing me around and insulting my existence as a werewolf—because I deserved the abuse.

Snape looked at me. I was weak. I was weaker than weak. He snorted, sarcastically speaking, 'nice robe. James (he – she – we – complete jealousy) had something like it before."

I ripped that robe. I think I ripped a bit of my flesh too but (that's okay).

I was disgusted with myself. A vile creature that still wanted to hurt Snape, had dreams of hurting him with belts, stinging skin in ten different ways – maybe that was why Harry seemed more akin to Slytherin than anyone else thought, maybe this was somehow all my fault and Voldemort's rising was somehow related to me but the thoughts were as the truth, maybe Snape knew –but all of it was...

Completely buried in silence.

Just request away, my dears. How many parts do you want? One-shot, two-shot, a bit lengthy... what type of angst do you want? Mpreg/not? Slashy or slashy? I only do slash, peoples and if you want one that has different pairings, sure! Your call, guys. That's kinda the point of this, hence the very, very weak and stupid beginning to it. I don't know what you guys like as of yet ;D. Let's see what you come up with. Remember! Submissive/bottom Snape because this place lacks it (not entirely) but we could sure use more! So...pairing – type of angst – specifics – and length of what you want please! :3

Xx Sam