What in the world is wrong with you?-SH (cokenotcola)
The list is so long it’d drown you brain, my dear. Wouldn’t want to inflict such torture on you. -JM
I am curious about what prompted this text, however. -JM

seen from Germany
seen from Germany
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Vietnam
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from South Korea

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States

seen from Ecuador

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Brazil
seen from China
What in the world is wrong with you?-SH (cokenotcola)
The list is so long it’d drown you brain, my dear. Wouldn’t want to inflict such torture on you. -JM
I am curious about what prompted this text, however. -JM

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Sherlock grinned up at him, heart thundering in his chest. He could feel himself growing hard in anticipation, and his cheeks flushed as a result. He stroked Sylar’s thighs, still trapped inside his pants, and felt the overwhelming need to tear them off, wanting to touch every inch of skin. “You are sin.” He brought out, working on the button and zip.
“All seven.” He grinned devilishly before kissing Sherlock’s mouth once, then began to work his way down his neck and torso-licking and nipping the flesh as he did. Purposely going out of Sherlock’s reach for his pants. “And you are my soul to corrupt.”
You're mine... (Cuz why the fuck not?)
(I’m sure you meant Sherlock to do on SHerlock)
“No... I’m not-I’m....” They had been through a lot. They lived together for months and months-who knows, maybe even years now. Sylar never kept track, because the time there was... Nice. He didn’t have to care about how long he’s been there.
But that was his downfall.
Great, powerful, alpha killer. He became too unguarded, to cozy and... Happy. The small touches of hands. Sitting closer in taxis. And so, so much more-Sylar had not noticed what was happening.
But it was too late now. He cared. And he had no idea what to do. The possessive tone, the dark look in blue eyes.
“I hate you...” It was said, but his eyes were gentle and confused nd everything he usually tried to not be. He was open and fragile.
I've seen a gun put to his head and he simply smiled. I've looked into his files and seen the terror he’s caused. He is a monster and a killer and everything a omega isn't and everything I work to stop.
And I want more.
He was the only one in the world. Those who knew about his abilities have given him quite the title. The super powered, psychopathic, omega, alpha killer. Normal people just know him as the alpha killer.
In America, the FBI stopped bothering trying to find him. Now, in England, there was only one person on his tail-Sherlock Holmes.
Sylar had no idea how this ‘consulting detective’ was even able to know about his murders let alone be so close to catching him this quickly. He gave no mind to the fact he is a omega-as he adheres to none of the biological rulessay for heat-which he usually is able to repress though.
But that was his weakness in the end. The alpha detective could smell him. Like a literal hound dog, Sylar was so caught up in power he never stopped to think his downfall would be just how he smelled.
Until he heard the door open, Sylar standing over his to-be-victim who lay unconscious on the floor. The omega turned with darkness in his eyes, knowing the faint(though not faint now as they were in the same house) of the alpha.
“Impossible...”

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"I am not wearing that."(cokenotcola)
“At what point did commands turn into requests, my dear?”
"Jesus Christ. I feel like I've be hit by a wagon."
"We don't want to cuddle."