stellaspectral

[stellaspectral]

Bound by Design (one-shot)

💙 ROTTMNT Leonardo/Female Reader ★ Donatello/Female Reader 💜

“Look at him.” Leo’s voice is a low purr, a silken knife meant to slide between his brother’s ribs. He drags a hand down your back, a trail of fire over your skin, and you can’t stop the full-body shiver that follows. “All that genius, and he can’t even get out of a few simple knots. Pathetic.” He leans in, breath against your ear. “Let’s give him a show he’ll never forget.”

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Reader-Insert, Female Reader, Smut, Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fluff and Smut, Aged-Up Characters, Human/Turtle Relationships (TMNT), Turtle Anatomy (TMNT), Established Relationship, Sexual Roleplay, Cuckolding, Kink Negotiation, Light Bondage, Voyeurism, Cunnilingus, Objectification, Hair-pulling, Breeding Kink, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Dirty Talk, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Large Cock, Sexual Overstimulation, Facials, Aftercare, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Partners, No Turtlecest (TMNT)

Summary: Leo has always loved pushing his brother’s buttons.

But this time, the button is you.

💖 Read on AO3 💖

[stellaspectral]

OH Raph,you are a special one.

Find here.

[stellaspectral]

Hiiii can I request rottmnt x fem reader (romantic and separate) with a reader who just REALLY likes eating apples like if they see her eating something it's normally an apple or that she just seems to get them out of mid air like one second she has nothing in her hand then boom! randomly has an apple in her hands

A/N: I decided to do separate mini-scenarios with the each turtle. I tried to make them a little funny and a bit absurd. Is the reader magical? Perhaps 😜 I know you requested a female reader, but this story comes off more as gender neutral and that was entirely accidental tbh. I hope that’s okay! 😅

Enjoy! 😊

Apple of My Eye (fluff)

💚 ROTTMNT Turtles/Gender Neutral Reader 💚

CWs: Flirting, mild suggestiveness (mostly Leo’s fault 😏), and minor descriptions of battle injuries. All characters are aged-up.

LEO

You’re perched on the ledge of a rooftop, your legs dangling into the space above the alleyway below, feeling perfectly at ease.

Nearby, there’s the rhythmic swish and thump of Leo practicing—though you suspect he’s doing it more to show off than anything. Each arc of his swords is graceful, slicing through the air with a faint blue trail of mystic energy. He finishes with a final, dramatic pose, katanas crossed in front of him, before sheathing them.

He saunters over and sits beside you. “So,” he begins, his voice a smooth purr. “Impressive, right? The flawless form, the unparalleled grace, the—let’s be honest—undeniable charm.” He winks, a cocky grin playing on his lips as he leans closer.

You allow a small, amused smile to touch your lips, but you keep your expression deliberately neutral. You meet his gaze and give a tiny shrug. “It was okay, I guess.”

His grin falters for a fraction of a second. “Okay? Just ‘okay’?” he scoffs, leaning in until his face is just inches from yours. “I think you can do better than that. C’mon, admit it. You were mesmerized. Spellbound. Utterly captivated.”

You hold his gaze, the playful challenge in his eyes making your heart beat a little faster. Then a familiar craving surfaces, a desire for something crisp and simple. Your hand, which had been resting empty on your lap, suddenly feels heavier. You don’t even have to look. Cradled in your palm is a deep red, perfectly polished apple.

You lift it to your lips and take a loud, deliberate, satisfying crunch.

Leo freezes. His entire suave, confident posture goes rigid. His eyes dart from the apple to your face, then back to the apple, a flicker of genuine bewilderment crossing his features. “Where did—?” He cuts himself off, shaking his head as if to clear it. The charming mask slides back into place, but his grin is different now—sharper, more intrigued. “You know what, never mind. Keeping secrets, are we? A woman of mystery.” His voice drops lower. “I like that.”

Before you can take another bite, he leans in even closer. His eyes never leave yours as he opens his mouth and takes a bite right from the other side of your apple. His lips brush against your fingers, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

He pulls back slowly, chewing thoughtfully while still holding your gaze. A drop of juice clings to his bottom lip. “Sharing is caring, right?” he murmurs, his voice a soft, intimate rumble.

RAPH

Every muscle aches.

Patrol was brutal; it was a relentless skirmish with some new, ridiculously strong mutant that left you bruised and utterly drained. You flop on the beanbag chair and let your head fall back, closing your eyes and exhaling a long, shaky breath. Then you hear his footsteps before you see him, a massive shadow falling over you.

“Hey,” Raph’s voice is a gentle rumble. “You doin’ alright? That was a pretty nasty fall you took back there, trying to distract that rhino guy.”

You crack one eye open. He’s looming over you, his enormous frame seeming to fill the entire room. His brow is deep and furrowed, and the concern in his eyes is impossible to miss.

You try for a shrug but wince instead. “I’ve been worse,” you mutter, though your voice is rough around the edges.

“You sure?” He crouches down, bringing himself closer to your level. “’Cause you’re lookin’ a little pale. You need anything? Water? Ice pack? A bandage? A … a hug?” He mumbles the last part, glancing away for a second as if embarrassed to offer something so soft.

You’re about to reassure him again when a sharp pang of hunger cuts through your exhaustion. It’s not a complex need, just a simple, primal craving for something familiar and grounding. You’re too tired to even think about getting up.

Instinct takes over. You hold out your hand—and a crisp Granny Smith apple materializes in your palm.

He literally jumps back a foot, his eyes wide with a comical level of alarm. “Whoa! What the—?! Where did that come from?! Was that in your pocket? No way!”

Ignoring his panicked string of questions, you simply lift the apple and take a bite. The sharp, tart flavor cuts through the fog in your head, a welcome shock to your system.

His initial shock melts away, and he deflates a little, his shoulders slumping. “Is that … is that all you’re gonna eat?” he asks, his voice soft with worry. “An apple? After getting thrown into a dumpster?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. He sits down on the floor right next to you.

Raph doesn’t understand your weird apple habit, not even a little bit. He reaches out a hand and rests it gently on your knee, his touch grounding. He says nothing else, just sits there, a silent, unwavering guardian making sure his most precious person is okay.

DONNIE

You’re in Donnie’s lab, sitting on a chair, content simply to watch him work.

From his battle shell, two of his mechanical spider-arms move with a speed and precision that’s almost hypnotic; one is meticulously welding a microscopic joint, sending up a shower of tiny sparks, while the other types lines of code so fast it’s just a blur.

Hours seem to melt away in here. The rest of the world, with its noise and demands, simply ceases to exist. There is only the hum of the lab and the quiet, focused intensity of the turtle you adore. Eventually, though, a quiet rumble in your stomach reminds you that time is, in fact, still passing.

You don’t want to break his concentration. He’s on the verge of a breakthrough; you can always tell. So, you resort to your usual trick. You hold your hand out beside you, focus on the familiar weight and texture, and will it into being. A shiny, perfectly shaped Gala apple appears in your grasp.

You’re just about to take a bite, to savor the sweet crunch, when his voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hold it.” You freeze. “Don’t move a single muscle.”

He swivels his chair around and pulls his tech-goggles down over his eyes. He scans the apple, your hand, and the space surrounding it.

“Fascinating,” he breathes, the word full of awe and frustration. “There are no residual quantum signatures. No trace elements of spatial distortion, no evidence of teleportation, dimensional folding, or rapid molecular reconstruction.” He looks up at you from behind the lenses. “Logically, this should not be possible. You violate at least seventeen known principles of physics.”

He leaps from his chair and paces around, tapping a finger against his chin. “I have so many theories. A localized bio-generative field? A subconscious link to a pocket dimension that only contains apples? Are you, in fact, a highly advanced photosynthesizing organism with a symbiotic relationship to the Malus domestica species? Are you part apple?”

You just smile, lift the fruit to your lips, and take a loud, defiant CRUNCH.

He stops his pacing, his frantic analysis halting mid-thought. He just stares at you. A long silence stretches between you. Donnie blinks once, slowly. Then he mutters, “You ate the evidence.”

You shrug, suppressing a smirk as you take another deliberate bite. “It’s a really good apple,” you say through the crunch, licking a bit of juice off your thumb.

He groans and runs both hands down his face.

“I was hungry,” you reply, cool and casual.

Donnie loves you, but sometimes, you can be so insufferably mysterious.

MIKEY

Mikey slides a plate across the kitchen table. On it sits a slice of pizza that could only have been born from his talented mind. It’s topped with pepperoni, pineapple, melted cheddar, and a generous scattering of hot Cheetos, their bright red dust clinging to the cheese like fiery snowflakes.

“Boom!” he declares, throwing his hands in the air as if presenting a masterpiece in an art gallery. “I call it the Firestorm Deluxe!”

You stare at the creation, your expression caught somewhere between horror and affection. “Mikey,” you say slowly, “I love you with my entire being, but I have to draw the line somewhere.”

“C’mon! It’s the perfect blend! Sweet, savory, and spicy!” he insists. He leans over the counter, his wide eyes pleading with you. “Just one bite! For science! For art! For me?”

You let out a long-suffering sigh, but you’re smiling. Still, your stomach rumbles in protest, demanding something reliable. Something good. Something that isn’t a potential war crime against your digestive system.

Discreetly, you hold your hand under the lip of the counter. You feel a familiar, comforting weight settle into your palm. With a soft pop, your apple is there. You bring it up, polishing the bright, flawless skin on your shirt sleeve.

Mikey’s gasp isn’t one of confusion or alarm, but delight. “Whoa! Apple-Magic! You did the thing again!”

He doesn’t question the physics or worry about your diet. To him, your ability isn’t a strange quirk; it’s a superpower. It’s your signature move. It’s art.

“Ooh, wait, don’t eat it yet!” he chirps, already in motion. He zips around the counter, skidding to a halt in front of the fridge. He pulls out a squeeze bottle of caramel sauce, a plate, and a knife. Then he slices the apple into wedges before arranging them into a beautiful fan shape and drizzling caramel over them with a flourish. “Now it’s a collaboration!”

You reach for a slice and eat it. “Actually, this is pretty good.” You smile. “We should collab more often.”

He doesn’t need to understand where the apple came from. He just sees your unique magic and instinctively knows how to add his own splash of joy to it, making it something you can share.

[stellaspectral]

Mystic Mikey!

This is a commission I did, all design credits go to the customer as always. I was over the moon to get to do this one ngl because ✨ HIM ✨

-> Art Commissions Open [Kofi Link] <-

-> Fanfic Commissions Open [Fiverr] <-

If you don’t want to use any external sites but are interested, feel free to drop a dm! (Or not. You don’t have to buy my dumb art lol, we can just chill)

[stellaspectral]

Heyyo, I know request is close but I want 2012Raphsel fanfic soo bad 😭😭

Hey, thanks for reaching out! I have some ‘12 Raph-centric fics on my drive; some are finished and in need of editing, others are not quite done yet. Though some are, errm … pretty explicit 😂 and I’m not sure if that’s something you’re into.

I won’t be opening requests for a while, unfortunately. I need a break from writing them and I’m still trying to finish up posting the ones I got a few months ago. I’ll let everyone know when they open back up, but don’t expect it anytime super soon. Then you can put in a request ❤️

[stellaspectral]

Just for Now (fluff)

💙 ROTTMNT Leonardo/Gender Neutral Reader 💙

A/N: I didn’t know what to post for Open the Floodgates, so here’s a short, fluffy piece I had sitting on my drive. (Obviously, I wrote this with Rise Leo in mind, but I suppose you can insert almost any iteration if you really wanted to.)

Enjoy 😊

PS - @nickelodeon & @paramountpictures 📣 So many people would LOVE a continuation of Rise of the TMNT, even if it’s in comic form!

CWs: Fluff, pining, cuddling, unspoken confessions, and very mild angst. All characters are aged-up.

You could tell it was getting really late. Donnie’s lab is quiet. Mikey’s music stopped, and even Raph seems to have finally surrendered to sleep.

Except for you and Leo, of course.

Leo is propped up on a beanbag chair that has seen more than its fair share of movie marathons and post-mission naps. You are curled up on the rug at his feet, cocooned in a thick blanket. On the projector screen, an old sci-fi movie is playing, one that Leo had claimed was ‘a cult classic’ and ‘surprisingly deep if you pay attention.’

But honestly, neither of you is really watching.

Your eyes are closed, but you aren’t asleep. You’re floating in that pleasant, syrupy state just before unconsciousness, listening to the cheesy dialogue and the zap of laser pistols. A soft yawn escapes you. Your body shifts slightly, burrowing deeper into the blanket.

Leo glances down, one corner of his mouth tugging up. “Tired already?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but threaded with affection.

“Just a little,” you admit, mumbling, not bothering to open your eyes.

You hear him chuckle.

There’s a beat of quiet, then you feel a light tap on your head. More fond than playful. Then, familiar hands carefully work their way under you. There’s a moment of weightlessness as he scoops you up, blanket and all, being careful not to jostle you too much.

He is so strong, yet his touch is impossibly careful, as if he were handling something infinitely fragile.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, Leo has maneuvered you onto the beanbag chair with him. Then you’re being nestled against him, tucked up against the cool curve of his plastron. He wraps his arm around your shoulders securely. And finally, his chin comes to rest gently on the top of your head.

“Better?” he asks, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

Not trusting yourself to form words, you hum in response, too content to say anything more as you snuggle closer to his chest. Breathing in the comforting smell of him. The steady thump of his heartbeat under your ear is slow and sure, a rhythm that steadies your own.

You feel him press a soft kiss to your hair, a gesture so tender it makes your heart ache pleasantly. A smile pulls at your lips, sleep tugging you down like a tide. The last thing you remember before drifting off completely is the feeling of being anchored, of being completely and utterly safe.

Leo stays awake.

He doesn’t move, barely even breathes, afraid he’ll wake you if he shifts too much. He watches as your breathing evens out, the rise and fall of your chest a gentle, rhythmic motion against his own. After waiting a few more minutes, listening to the soft sighs that punctuate your descent into sleep, he tucks the blanket more securely around you.

Your features are relaxed, free of the tension he sometimes sees after long days topside. He observes the tiny flutter of your lashes, the way your fingers twitch slightly under the blanket as you slip deeper into dreams. You murmur something incoherent, nuzzling your face against his plastron before settling back into stillness.

He wonders, not for the first time, what kind of world you dream about. Was it something mundane from your life before them, or had their chaotic world seeped into your subconscious?

He knows what this looks like to anyone else. He knows what Raph would say, how Mikey would nudge him and smirk, or how Donnie would quirk a brow and mutter something about proximity bonding and oxytocin.

But it’s not about that. Not entirely.

There’s something grounding about your presence. Like holding on to you keeps him tethered. Like everything slows down—his brothers, missions, expectations, the pressure—and centers on this one simple thing: you, breathing against him.

Being around you is a familiar feeling, a quiet but powerful hum in his chest that settles there whenever he sees you. Whether you were laughing at one of Mikey’s jokes, arguing with Donnie about some nerdy theory, or holding your own in a sparring match with Raph. It’s a feeling of rightness, a sense of a crucial piece of the puzzle clicking into place.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, barely grazing your skin, and sighs through his nose. He leans back slightly, adjusting the blanket around you once more, and then lets his eyes fall closed. His hand doesn’t leave your back, fingers curling protectively.

The constant growing responsibility of leadership feels distant, a universe away from the profound peace of this moment. He lets his mind drift. Just a little. Because here, there’s no next mission to plan, no villains to chase, no training drills or brotherly chaos. Just you.

Your warmth. The way you unconsciously move closer every few minutes like you know, even in sleep, that he’s still holding you.

And he is.

He always will.

Maybe he hasn’t said it yet—not out loud, not in the way you deserve—but there’s a part of him that’s known for a while now. Maybe longer than he’s willing to admit, even to himself.

You’ve become home.

He opens his eyes and tilts his head a bit, just enough to glance down at your peaceful face again. There’s a quiet bravery in the way you love, in the way you’ve chosen this life alongside him and his brothers. Because there are days when the world feels too big, when the weight of it all digs into his shell. And you stay.

You always stay.

And he hasn’t told you, but Leo is so in love with you.

His grip on you tightens ever so slightly. He’ll say it soon. Maybe not tonight—maybe not even tomorrow—but it’s coming. He can feel the words building behind his ribs, pressing at the back of his throat like waves against a dam.

“I love you.” He mouths it silently, almost reverently.

Just to himself.

Just for now.

Because it’s enough to know. Enough to hold you and feel it pulsing quietly through every part of him.

Eventually, the movie ends, and the screen goes dark. Still, Leo doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to. Your fingers twitch again under the blanket, and this time, one of them brushes his wrist. Instinctively, his hand turns to meet yours, your fingers tangling. He gives a soft squeeze. You sigh in your sleep, the corners of your mouth tipping into the faintest smile.

Leo smiles too. And for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets himself rest. Not just physically, but fully. Completely. He continues to hold you, listening to your breathing. Feeling a fierce contentment that he knows he would fight until his last breath to protect.

And somewhere deep inside, he thinks:

Even if you never love me back, I will always keep you safe.

[stellaspectral]

Disaster Twins 2025 🐢🐢

My boys! They look so vastly different in just two and a half years!

I loved doing this redraw, not only for experiencing first hand my newer process and how I've grown, but also being able to look at both finished versions side by side and having visible proof of the evolution of my art. It really goes to show that, while progress isn't always immediate and or linear, time and practice really does equal improvement in the end.

progress pictures, comparisons, and my thoughts on this redraw below:

First thing's first, looking at my old art I feel like those poses were the extent of my skill at the time, a real challenge that I set for myself, Leo in particular. I still appreciate them, especially for the first attempt I ever made at drawing any or the turtles, so going into the new one, I really wanted to emulate that same dynamic: Leo crouched down, supporting Donnie's elbow. But I didn't want it to feel as static.

In the new one, I wanted to be more lean in Donnie's pose, as if he's really putting his weight on Leo. Leo himself stayed relatively the same pose-wise, but I felt there was a way to push the pair of them to make it more dynamic. Hence, the perspective.

The second thing I wanted to tackle was the energy of the image. In the old one, I feel it gives more fun, pop-of-color vibes. It's energy was from me trying to take on the Rise style, of attempting to take on the vibrancy of the show and translate it to my art.

Now that I've had a few years to test what works best for me, I feel as though I've improved at balancing the color palettes a bit. I've always favored more muted tones, but always fought the Rise style to find the right give and take, but over time I found a happy medium that tends to lean toward those more muted tones for the body while still adding that pop of color, usually in the eyes or a source of light.

Rim lighting might just be part of my style at this point.

And lastly, I'd like to be able to compliment the original background, but it didn't work for the poses and colors I had going on on Donnie and Leo. The idea was to have a TMNT spray painted on a wall, but since the bodies covered most of the work, it was difficult to tell what was going on.

On the new one, I really leaned into the drama of the scene. They're ready to fight, they're moving, and they're a threat. I didn't want the background to fight with the characters this time around, so starting with the dark, monotone slate helped me smooth out the rest of the ambience before attempting the mystics on Donnie's bo, Leo's portal and what ended up being the wind. And finally the text. I intentionally kept it hard to notice, a small detail that added a bit more texture without distracting and also taking some of the blues and purples throughout the drawing. That last detail, the boy's names, was what I used to mimic the original background.

This ramble turned out a lot longer than I intended, feels like I should end it with "in conclusion" XD

Overall, I'm really happy with how this went and how I've grown since I started drawing tmnt art. Thanks for sticking around to listen to me chatter endlessly, please let me know if this is something you'd wanna read more of in the future!

[stellaspectral]

Hey!! I was hoping to request some fluff. Something where 2012 Donatello walks in on fem! Reader partner with like curlers in her hair and him thinking they're cute or something. Sorry if this is confusing. Have a great day/night

A/N: This is an ADORABLE request! I hope this cute bit of fluff brings a smile to your face.

Enjoy! 😊

For Science, Of Course (fluff)

💜 2012 Donatello/Female Reader 💜

CWs: None. All characters are aged-up.

After a late-afternoon training session that left you happily exhausted, a long, hot shower was just what you needed.

Now, wrapped in a fluffy robe you borrowed from April, you stand in front of the mirror in your small, cordoned-off section of the lair. The space was your own, but Donnie’s handiwork was everywhere—from the cleverly designed shelving unit he’d built for you, to the reading light he’d made for your bed.

You hum a quiet tune as you carefully comb your damp hair. The little plastic curlers—all rainbow and pastels—are on the table beside you, lined up. You know they look ridiculous, but the soft waves they give you the next day make you feel pretty.

You meticulously section off a strand of hair near your temple and roll it around a bright pink cylinder, snapping the clasp shut. One down, about a dozen to go. You’re so absorbed in the process of getting it right that you don’t hear the soft footsteps approaching your doorway.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you’d seen my …” Donnie’s voice, a familiar and welcome tenor, cuts off abruptly. He’s stepped fully into the room, a data-pad in one hand, and his warm hazel eyes land squarely on you.

You freeze, a purple curler halfway to your head. A wave of heat, swift and unwelcome, floods your face, prickling at your ears and neck. Even after all this time together, he could still make you blush. “Don’t look at me!” you squeak, spinning around as if the back of your head is any less ridiculous than the front.

There’s a beat of stunned silence behind you. Your heart hammers in your chest, and you squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at the undignified sound you just made.

But then—soft, amused—Donnie chuckles. “I, uh … wasn’t expecting that,” he admits, and there’s no mockery in his voice, just gentle surprise.

You don’t dare turn around. “W-what do you want?” you mumble, trying not to sound like you’re about to melt into the floor. You clutch a curler like it’s a weapon, as if that’ll help you reclaim some semblance of dignity.

There’s a pause, then the quiet shuffle of his feet. “Sorry,” he says, a little sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to barge in. I was just looking for my multi-phasic particle de-resonator.” He finishes the sentence, the technical jargon sounding almost comical in the current situation.

You stay perfectly still, back rigid, a mortifying statue with half a head of plastic. Of course, he’s looking for something you can’t even pronounce. You can practically feel his analytical gaze on the curlers, dissecting the very purpose of their existence.

“What … are those, exactly?” he asks. You hear him take another soft step into the room. “Are they for enhancing thermal retention? Some kind of manual polymer reshaping device? Oh, wait. I see. The plastic likely holds the hair in a specific configuration while the keratin bonds reset during the dehydration process. Fascinating.”

“They’re just curlers, Donnie,” you manage, your voice flat. You feel a hysterical bubble of laughter trying to escape. Of course, he would turn your five-dollar beauty tools into a subject for a thesis. The embarrassment is so acute it’s starting to feel absurd.

“Oh.” There’s a pause. He clears his throat, the scientific curiosity in his tone replaced by a dawning, slightly panicked realization that he’s not helping. “Right. Sorry. I just … I’ve never seen them used before.” He sounds a bit flustered now, which, to your surprise, makes you feel a bit better. “I’m, uh, I’m making things worse, aren’t I?”

His earnest, fumbling attempt to backtrack is what does it. It’s so quintessentially him—so brilliant and yet so socially clumsy—that a small, actual smile touches your lips. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turn around to face him.

You clutch the lapels of your robe, your half-finished hair on full display. Donnie’s gaze meets yours, and his initial surprise has melted into something softer. He’s not looking at the ridiculous curlers anymore. He’s looking at you, at the blush still high on your cheeks, at the way you’re biting your lip.

“You don’t have to hide,” he says, his voice quiet and low as he closes the small space between you. He rests his hands gently on your waist. “It’s just me.”

His words, and his touch, settle the frantic beating of your heart into a slow, happy rhythm. “I know,” you whisper, leaning into him slightly. “I just … feel silly.”

A small, crooked smile plays on his lips. “For what it’s worth,” he says, his thumbs stroking your sides through the thick cotton. “I think it’s … efficient.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Efficient?”

“Well, yeah,” he reasons, that familiar spark of enthusiasm returning to his eyes. “It’s a passive system that achieves a complex stylistic result with minimal energy expenditure. That’s the very definition of efficiency.”

You shake your head, a warm smile spreading across your face. “Okay, Professor.”

A genuine smile graces his own features, the gap between his teeth making it even more endearing. “Well, I’m glad my engineering analysis has been met with your approval,” he says, his tone light and teasing.

“Right,” you say, feeling brave. “So, about that … multi-whatever de-resonator?” You nod towards the shelf beside you. “Is that the shiny metal thing over there?”

His eyes follow your gesture, and he lets out a soft “Ah!” of recognition. “That’s the one.” He doesn’t let go of your waist to get it and simply leans with you to scoop it up with one hand. Though his attention isn’t on the complex gadget. Instead, his gaze drifts back to your head. He hesitates for a second. “May I?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he motions with his free hand toward your hair.

You swallow, your heart giving a happy flutter, and nod.

Slowly, carefully, he reaches out. His long, three-fingered hand is steady as he gently taps the curler you first put in. “They’re … cute,” he says, and you can see a faint blush dusting his cheeks. A small, bashful smile touches his lips. “But mostly because they’re on you.”

Your breath hitches. The warmth intensifies, pooling in your stomach and making your knees feel weak. You’re sure the blush on your own cheeks is now a raging inferno.

His gaze drops to the purple curler still clutched in your hand. “You, uh … you missed a spot,” he observes gently. Before you can even process what’s happening, he puts the de-resonator aside and takes the curler from your unresisting fingers. His touch is brief but sends a jolt straight up your arm.

He turns you to face the mirror, wrapping his other arm fully around your waist and pulling you flush against his plastron. You rest your head back against his shoulder, watching your reflections together. His brow furrows in concentration as he takes the loose section of your hair. His touch is deft as he wraps the strands around the purple plastic, his knuckles brushing your temple. He fumbles for only a moment with the clasp before snapping it shut.

He pulls his hand back, looking incredibly proud of his handiwork in the mirror. “There,” he says, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You reach up and touch the curler he just placed, looking at his reflection—at his earnest expression and the loving look in his eyes—and you feel so full of affection it’s almost overwhelming.

He clears his throat, grabbing his de-resonator. “Well. I should, uh … go de-resonate some particles.” He presses a soft, quick kiss to your temple and steps back, finally moving toward the door. Then he pauses in the doorway, turning back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. “Make sure you document the results. For science, of course. I’d like to see the finished ‘complex stylistic result’ tomorrow.”

He grins at you and disappears down the hallway. You’re left alone in the quiet, your reflection staring back at you with a dazed, happy smile. You lift a hand to your cheek, which is still flaming hot. The plastic curlers no longer feel ridiculous at all.

In fact, you couldn’t wait for morning to come.

[stellaspectral]

how accurate is this video:

https://www.tiktok.com/@tinawithana/video/7537842444595973389

Accurate.

Feels like I just got punched in the chest watching it tbh 🙃

[stellaspectral]

You like 12 Raph he’s so relatable so what’s your general thoughts and opinions on him in 03

‘12 Raph is incredibly relatable to me. He’s so emotionally layered under all that snark, and that’s exactly what drew me to ‘03 Raph too, just in a different way.

I actually really like ‘03 Raph as well. In many ways, he’s also part of the emotional backbone of the team in his own gruff way. He’s aggressive, yeah, but it’s not just for the sake of it. A lot of his aggression stems from how deeply he feels everything. He doesn’t always have the words for it, so it comes out in fists and sarcasm, but it’s clear how much he loves his brothers. The way he’s constantly looking out for Mikey (even if he’s yelling while doing it lol) and challenging Leo when his leadership decisions get too cold or rigid—that’s all Raph being a piece of the team’s heart, even if he’d never admit it.

Honestly, both versions feel like two sides of the same coin!

[stellaspectral]

give me a fave pop song!

Since I always seem to answer with Korean songs, how about something different this time:

[stellaspectral]

did u ever say which song the reader and her crew performs in perfectly in sync?

Uh, I’m not sure I’ve ever specified, actually!

The song I had in mind for the initial one mentioned that Mikey’s tuning into the stream for is:

As for the rest, I kinda just left them for whichever song you (the reader) want to insert lol

[stellaspectral]

Dark Turtle gang.

Mikey called dibs for first picture.

Raph’s reaction to being called beautiful.

Donnie wanted to catch his good side.

Leo?. . .well, Leo is Leo I guess.

[stellaspectral]

Hi! I just recently discovered your blog AND OH MY GODD ALL YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY PERFECT I don't know how you manage to capture each of the turtle's different eras so well?? Especially your raph fics like 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I think you deserve soo much more recognition for this but all I can offer is my personal applause and admiration 🩷

OH MY GOSH?? This message absolutely made my day, thank you SO much!! 🥺💖 I’m honestly so blown away that you took the time to say all this!

I think you deserve soo much more recognition for this but all I can offer is my personal applause and admiration 🩷

Aw, thanks! I’m accepting your personal applause with all the gratitude and a little happy dance

[stellaspectral]

Do you have a favorite Rise!Tmnt Episode? What were your thoughts on the movie? 🎥

Tough question! I’m gonna have to go with The Clothes Don’t Make the Turtle for this. Honorary mention of Flushed But Never Forgotten and The Evil League of Mutants.

As for the movie, I LOVED it! The stakes were so much higher, the action was insane, and the emotional moments really hit hard. Not gonna lie; I totally choked up a few times when I first watched it. (Which makes the show’s cancellation even more bittersweet 💔)

I went in thinking it’d just be a fun continuation. But watching Leo struggle with leadership and self-worth, watching Raph get taken … everything wrecked me. And that ending? It was so beautifully earned. It reminded me why I love these characters so much. Not just for the action or the jokes, but for the heart. 💚

[stellaspectral]

so raph is your fave 2012 turtle, yay! who are your other faves for other series?

Alright, here we go:

‘87

‘90

‘03

‘07

IDW

Bayverse

Rise

i know i’m only supposed to pick one, but i’m cheating here idc

MM

[stellaspectral]

gonna be a hater for a minute, reblog and put in the tags the last movie that you HATED like viscerally hated like 1/2 star on letterboxd HATED