#matt jeevas

[vamphorica]

oh my god, sit up

[livingd3adqpid]

Try; Trying; Tried. - m2

Clean Ver.

[ayayapap]

They’re multiplying 🥴

[nerdynuala]

He put away his chocolate. It means things are fucked up

The meme

[melloyello-69]

Matt and Mello art! ^u^

Sorry for being so gone </3 hope u guys are still there! I’ll try to post more often

[wholegrainz4200]

Mail Jeevas our husband <3

[subingchips]

[angelinvasion1]

wammy shenanigans

[almostthursdayy]

reupload because tumblr hates me and i hate tumblr grrrr grrrrr why are u so mean to me grrrrrrr ( they’re flirting )

[hollihollow]

Im manifesting the Mellodramattic merch I wish to see in this world 🍫🎮

[cilasbestos]

A character saying “you won’t shoot” and then proceeding to get shot entirely all the way to death is so stupidly funny i love death note

[staratinia]

The 2nd Debate: Can men tell?

Synopsis: You and the task force debate another topic: Can men tell if a woman is faking an orgasm?

Warning: suggestive topic

wc: 1.5k

_________________________________________

It starts the way most tragedies start: Misa’s legs across your lap, a spoon of parfait hanging mid-air, and too many men in one room.

"So anyway," Misa chirps between bites, "I faked it. Obviously."

The room suspends in time. Matt slowly lowers his goggles. Mello freezes mid-chocolate-chomp. Matsuda makes a sound like a car hitting a mailbox. Light—Light simply sets his pen down and exhales like someone just broke a vase in his soul.

"I’m sorry," Mello says slowly, turning to her like she’s a crime scene. "What the hell did you just say?"

"I faked it," Misa repeats, all sunshine and murder. "He was all, 'yeah, baby, take it,' and I was mentally checking my Amazon wishlist."

You burst out laughing.

Light cuts in, adjusting his collar like he’s trying not to strangle himself with it. "This is already spiraling. But…it is a good question."

You raise an eyebrow. "You interested in the academic pursuit of fake orgasms, Yagami?"

"I’m open to discussion," he says calmly, but his voice has that dangerous let’s-solve-this-with-math edge. "We’re clearly in uncharted territory here. So let’s clarify: can men reliably tell when a woman fakes it?"

"Absolutely not," you say.

"I can," Mello declares confidently, which is how you know he absolutely can’t.

"No," Misa says. "There’s a difference between being attentive and narrating your own p*rn script while we do all the acting."

"They can’t tell," you say, tone firm. "And if they say they can, they’re lying, delusional, or both."

"That’s bullshit," Mello snaps. "I always know."

"You always think you know," Misa corrects. "Very different."

"You think moaning means it's real?" you snort. "Sweetheart, sometimes I moan to match rhythm. Like a metronome."

"Okay, then explain what you’re doing. Lying there, giving Oscar-worthy fake moans?"

"Sometimes, yeah," you say sweetly. "Sometimes we even toss in a twitch or a leg shake to sell the performance."

Mello looks genuinely betrayed. "*You guys have moves?"

"We have full choreography."

"But why?!" Matsuda says, devastated. "Why would you fake it?"

"To get it over with," you and Misa say together, flatly.

"Sometimes," Misa adds, "it's either that or crush your ego like a wet paper cup."

Matt wheezes, slouching deeper into his chair. "So I’ve been out here doing my best and getting simulated applause?"

"You’ve been getting politely excused from the stage," You smirk.

"I hate this," Mello growls. "So what do we do? Just ask?"

"Yes," you and Misa say in unison.

"What vibe, Mello?" you say, deadpan. "The vibe where she’s faking it to your rhythm and wondering if she left the stove on?"

"Ask? In the moment? That’s insane. That ruins the vibe."

Matt holds up a hand. "Can we get a definition of a real orgasm vs a fake one, for… scientific clarity?"

"Real orgasm?" you say. "You forget your last name, your credit score drops 20 points, and you speak in tongues."

"Fake orgasm?" Misa chimes in. "You make the same sound you do when you’re stretching. ‘Oooh yes.’”

Light sighs. "Okay, so if we remove the performative aspect—sighing, moaning, tremors—what are the involuntary markers?"

And that’s when L looks up. No warning. No sound. Just death incarnate, perched on his rolling chair, eyes dark and glittering like an abyss with a Wi-Fi signal.

"There are seven."

The room screeches to a halt.

"Seven what?" Matt says slowly.

"Seven orgasmic indicators that cannot be faked consistently unless the performer is a trained actress with an unusually detailed grasp of pelvic floor biology," L says, sipping tea like he’s saying "pass the salt."

Mello blinks. "Okay. Fuck. What are they?"

L holds up his hand and counts off with his fingers:

"Spasmodic contractions in the pelvic floor—typically rhythmic and between 0.8–1.2 second intervals."

"Clitoral retraction, followed by increased sensitivity, often to the point of pain."

"Gluteal tension release. This one’s subtle- most overlook it."

"Pulse spike exceeding 140 BPM."

"Pupillary dilation. Irregular breathing."

"Immediate shift in verbal capacity—loss of coherent speech or substitution of language with unintelligible vocalizations."

"Post-orgasmic awareness lag. A woman who came will take 7–23 seconds longer to respond to nonsexual stimuli."

Everyone stares.

"You just know that?" Misa breathes.

"I wrote my thesis on it," L replies. "It was titled 'The Climax Conundrum: Detecting Deception in Post-Coital Behavior.'"

Light looks over slowly. "I want to read that."

"You can’t," L says. "I submitted it anonymously to avoid social consequences."

"Too late," you say. "The social consequences are here."

"Jesus," Matt breathes. "You’ve been researching."

"He’s been collecting data," you say, squinting. "L, do you have a spreadsheet for this?"

"I do," L replies. "It’s color-coded and anonymous. Except Mello's entry. His was emotional."

"I never filled that out," Mello snaps.

"You screamed it aloud in the kitchen," Near says. "That counts as consent."

"I’m surrounded by freaks," Mello mutters. "I just want to be able to tell when a girl’s not into it. That’s it. Why is that so hard?"

"Because you think ‘being into it’ looks like a bad adult video" Misa says. "Meanwhile, real orgasms are messy. Unsexy. She probably says your name like it hurt."

Matt leans over to Light. "Yo, are you okay with all this?"

"Actually," Light says calmly, scribbling something down, "I find it enlightening. Women deserve to finish. If I have to alter my own technique, so be it."

Misa fans herself. "Oh my god. Say that again, but slowly."

"Women. Deserve. To finish."

"He's becoming too powerful," Matt whispers. "He’s hot and informed."

"I feel spiritually attacked," Mello mutters. "I hate that I’m the one yelling and he’s the one getting laid for it."

"Mello," Light cuts in, adjusting his tie with that exact face he makes before he says something awful but infuriatingly correct, "you’re projecting a lot of emotional distress for someone who claims to be getting women off consistently."

"EXCUSE ME?"

"If you were confident, you wouldn’t be yelling."

"I’M YELLING BECAUSE EVERYONE IS LYING."

Near finally speaks without looking up: "Statistically, women fake orgasms more often with men who lack emotional attunement or self-awareness."

"WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?"

"It means you're loud, sweaty, and ignoring their clit," Matt translates.

Mello grabs a throw pillow and screams into it.

L, quietly, sets his teacup down "In empirical studies, roughly 48% of women admitted to faking an orgasm at least once. Of those, over 85% stated their partner did not notice. When asked how they performed it, most cited vocal performance, timing cues, and mimicking muscular contractions."

Matt raises a brow. "So… fake moaning, squirming, some heavy breathing?"

"Yes," L replies. "Though many also described using repetition of phrases such as ‘right there,’ or ‘don’t stop,’ to hasten the process."

Light’s mouth twitches. "So encouraging sounds can mean you’re doing it right or doing it very wrong."

"Yes," L says calmly. "The average male is not trained in reading involuntary physiological responses under arousal. This, combined with ego, creates the illusion of skill."

Mello looks like he's about to combust. "You think I’m an illusion?!"

"You are statistically at high risk of misidentifying performative pleasure," L says. "Your confidence is excessive. That correlates negatively with accuracy."

"I’m going to start waterboarding people for the truth," Mello mutters. "I swear to god."

Near chimes in, softly placing another domino: "Just ask if she came, make honesty feel safe. Revolutionary idea, I know."

Light hums. "Actually, I agree. Consent culture includes post-sex check-ins."

"I want a refund on every sexual encounter I’ve ever had," Matsuda says quietly.

"Honestly?" you grin. "Probably fair."

L sips his tea again. "In summary: no, men cannot reliably detect a faked orgasm unless their partner is spectacularly bad at lying or has a seizure mid-coitus."

L begins typing furiously. "I am now creating a shared spreadsheet titled 'Task Force Climax Self-Awareness Survey.' There will be anonymous entries, follow-up questions, and an optional open mic feedback box."

"NO ONE WANTS TO DO THAT," Mello snaps.

"Already received two entries," L says, eyes flicking up. "Thank you, Matt."

"You’re welcome," Matt grins. "Typed 'pretty sure she finished once.'"

"I wrote a poem," Near says. "It’s called 'Echo in the Thrust Chamber.'"

You stand up dramatically. "In conclusion: you don’t know shit. But the good news is, you can learn. A woman body is not a Rubik’s cube. It’s not about solving it fast. It’s about turning it with intention."

There is a beat of stunned, reverent silence.

Then Light mutters: "...���Turning it with intention’... That’s going in the spreadsheet."

And L nods solemnly. "Quoted. Highlighted. Immortalized."

Consequences:

Three of the task force members never looked each other in the eye again.

Mello threw his back out trying to prove something later that week.

Matt got a thank-you text from an ex.

Near’s poem was published online and banned in seven countries.

L laminated the spreadsheet Light from that day onward started asking, listening and ruining lives.

[livingd3adqpid]

Day 4: Dreams and Nightmares (for matt only cuz he's being eaten alive).

[jwp1trr]

Thinking a lot about that comment.

I don't know how to use tumblr even after all these years, sorry. Also said i was just going to do a sketch but got caught into rendering.

[screensava]

Alcohol markers

[melloyello-69]

Mail Jeevas <3

I rlly had fun coloring this one if it wasn’t obvious LMAO