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adastra121 · 12 days ago

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Luneth the Reluctant Unnamed

I redesigned my Unnamed!MC, Luneth.

Pronouns: She/Her Birthday: October 24 Height: 5’4 (163 cm) Personality: Monotonous Mystic Likes: Swimming, summer rain, sunrises, dancing, playing the lyre, warm bread with honey, nature walks Dislikes: Dishonesty, the sound of an untuned instrument, crowded spaces, chalk, heights Fatal Flaw: Would go to any length to fulfill her destiny Other: She is a vegetarian. She doesn’t eat meat, but she does eat animal products like cheese and milk. Quote: “This path was never meant for me.”

More about her below:

Luneth is reserved, diligent, tenacious, seemingly unfazed and emotionless (but there is a great depth hiding under her icy surface).

She is very socially awkward, will probably make many social blunders throughout the game, but she does not care much about how others might perceive her. What matters most to her is her objective — why would she concern herself with the judgement of others?

Has a sharp, cold gaze that others may find intimidating, but that’s really just her neutral expression.

She tends to be straightforward and rather blunt with her words. She isn’t a very good liar and she knows that, so if she wants to keep a secret, she usually chooses not to speak on it.

She’s slow to warm up to others but she is fiercely loyal, protective, and devoted to those who have earned her trust.

She regards carrying out one’s duty with great importance. She would go to any lengths to fulfill her purpose, even to others' and her own detriment. She would destroy the world if she believed this was her destiny. Her own desires are nothing of importance — they are not meant to exist.

Despite appearing rather serious from her monotonous demeanour, Luneth can be quite playful. She enjoys utilizing her sense of humour when she wants to invoke joy in those she considers to be her friends. Unfortunately, it can be hard to tell when she is joking so her jokes rarely land. This is much to her disappointment.

She loves dance and music, as they offered a space for her to be herself. With her abilities, her hands, and her identity promised to serving the temple and the destiny they followed, she had very little ownership over her own person. Through her dance and her music, for a short moment in time, her body and her emotions are hers.

Luneth can play the lyre and the harp. She will probably learn the piano later on — I imagine she will continue learning new dances and instruments throughout the story and afterward.

She mainly dances contemporary. I'm debating on having her do aerial silks as well, mostly for the aesthetic parallel between the silks and her bandages, winding around her limbs. But where one represents a barrier, the other sets her free.

Luneth has a fear of heights, but she's also very disciplined, so every sunrise, she would practice her lyre or harp playing on the temple's platform overlooking the waterfall.

She is not a very empathetic person, mostly because of her sheltered and isolated upbringing under the Temple of Myst. But she does lend aid where she can. She may never understand why the traveller beside her in the caravan is crying — their tears serve them no purpose now, especially out in the Wastes — but she will share bread and water with them because an emotional outburst like that drains you of liquids and nutrients.

She’s a very practical prophet.

The Temple of Myst trained her to become the perfect vessel for her gift. She’s been raised to keep her emotions in check because they can affect her power, which needs to remain pure. Untainted.

Additionally, the priests told her she was to be an instrument of destiny. She must remain neutral, detached to carry out this duty. She is not a person, she must be more than that. She is more than that. She is the hand of enlightenment.

Actually, all the difficult training paid off, because now she can sense happenings in the present and the immediate future as effortlessly as blinking.

Like, you can be conversing with and walking beside her in a hallway and she’ll suddenly hold a hand out to catch a falling vase and set it back in place without missing a beat. Or if there’s a tripping hazard, she’ll smoothly navigate you around it.

I imagine a scenario where she and one of the LIs get into a fight with a bunch of enemies and she calmly says: “One behind the crates, two on the roof.” or “Duck.” or “Block left.”

She is not much of a fighter, but she’d be a perfect lookout or…what is the word for someone who has eyes on everything? Guide? Anyway, if she can communicate telepathically, she’ll be the voice in your head letting you know what to watch out for.

Some abilities she might have, depending on how the Unnamed origin plays out (I've played around with them because I thought they would be interesting): Clairvoyance, psychometry, spirit mediumship, telepathy.

Luneth is oblivious when it comes to innuendo. So yeah…none of Vere’s jokes landed. She just wanted her room key back.

Vere: “Don't tell me Leander already snuck out to get his knob slobbered out back.” Luneth: “Kuras is a doctor. He would not put his mouth on an unclean doorknob, it would be unhygienic.” Ais: “…I see you’ve got no comment on the dove.”

Does not understand why Leander blushes so often — is he sick? That would explain the dark circles. He should not offer to allow people to touch him if he's sick. Or perhaps he just needs to keep off the ale for a while.

She genuinely considered tying Leander up for their safety, completely unaware of the sexual connotations around it. Did not know why he was so flustered about it.

She gets frustrated sometimes. Things would be easier if people just said what they mean — but here she is, in the city of secrets.

Her entire life, she has trained for one purpose — to serve the Myst with her gift and bring enlightenment to the lost. Her path has always been clear. Now, understanding that it had all been a lie, she is thrown into the unknown.

She must discover the truth of who she is, where these destructive powers came from. And perhaps she’ll find out who she is outside of the temple.

Her MBTI is ISTJ

Her zodiac sign is Scorpio

Her enneagram is 1w9

Here is her full new design:

Woohoo! She is the MC of mine who's free of the waist sash! XD I took some loose inspiration from art nouveau architecture for her design — I felt that the flowy, but structured, designs suited her character. I was considering giving her more of a gown silhouette, but I thought this would allow her more movement for her dance style, which is mostly contemporary. And Kuras probably wanted to give her something a bit more practical to navigate the city. I might draw her in the gown version later, though! I would like to draw her in more gowns in general — I think she looks very beautiful and elegant in them.

Some songs I associate with her:

"Daughter of the Moon" by Adriana Figueroa This is the song I think of as her backstory theme. I attribute it to the creation of Luneth's character. Her backstory came clear to mind when listening to this song. A lone temple atop a waterfall, an isolated priestess among the blue waterlilies. It's an original song based off of a character who ends up sacrificing her life for others, but with Luneth, I imagined someone — the visiting mage — that refused to let her make that sacrifice and, instead, destroyed themself so that she would finally be free. So, instead of her life being the sacrifice sung about at the end, it is her love.

"All the King's Horses" by Karmina Her character theme. Could probably be a direct continuation of the previous song. Right after the visiting mage destroys her temple.

"notre dame" by Paris Paloma A bit of insight into her experience in the temple, forged into an instrument of destiny. She may be held with great importance as the hand of enlightenment, but the pedestal can be as lonely as the high bell tower.

"Journey" by Aphrodite Patoulidou and Theodore Koumartzis Lyre playing and singing voice reference.

"The Calling" by The Amazing Devil Her story theme. I imagine you can hear the echoes of the visiting mage, encouraging her to be more than what everyone has insisted was her destiny. She can be more than destiny. She can be a person.

“Manike” by Jubin Nautiyal, Surya Ragunaathan, and Yohani Her love theme. I can imagine her dancing a duet to this song.

“Quixotic” by Seo Jayeong Her battle theme. Most of the songs I associate with her build up, like the music is rising with her.

#touchstarved #red spring studio #touchstarved game #touchstarvedgame #touchstarved oc #luneth the unnamed #luneth the reluctant unnamed #my oc #myoc #oh luneth. meant to be a guide forced to be the heroine #but she’s a fun heroine!#you can still probably tell who kuras's favourite patient was out of my mcs #luneth's outfit looks like stained glass and alon's pants have patches XD #hm I'll probably have to redraw her chibi. ooh. her and jin's.#but I'm going to be redesigning other ocs first! :P #I love luneth. she's such a fun character to write.#fun fact: luneth is also tied to my hound mc alon. who is my fail run mc.#the idea is that alon experiences all the bad ends. those become luneth's visions.#they guide her to make the right choices and get the golden endings for all the routes.#visions of another person who isn't her but is also too much like her in circumstance for luneth to ignore.#she keeps seeing them fall or die or fail in so many different ways. a stranger who doesn't know her — but is saving her.#they're saving her and they aren't even aware. and even if she wanted to save them — she does not. she was not meant to want things #she can only watch.#so she will watch. and listen. and she will be the evidence of this stranger's mark on the world even if it is not their own.#she cannot save them but she will remember them and ensure their suffering was not in vain #luneth and alon are interesting characters to play off one another.

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eridianfic · 1 month ago

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✧put me to work✧

you help Leander collect himself when he returns to the Wick after a long night of who-knows-what

Pairing: Leander x Fem!MC Length: ~3,000 words Tags: femdom, porn without plot, power dynamics, piv sex, woman on top, female mc, sub!leander, grinding, creampie, assume Leander uses magic off screen as birth control bc I didn't want to write that part, no beta a/n: written for the discord fic exchange. simple+ quick pwp:) title references this song. You can read this fic on Ao3 here

“Getting ready for bed all by yourself, beautiful?”

The words sink in the air, threadbare and weak instead of in Leander’s usual velvety voice. All the charm he can muster is in that one sentence. You know right away that it’s going to be one of those nights. One of the nights where his eyes carry that leaden, dead look to them. A night where he nearly staggers through the door to your room, more than just exhaustion draining him. A night where the only thing that can bring him back to himself - put him back together, piece by piece - is you, taking him apart first.

So you don’t ask him what happened, or how he is. There’s not much point to it. You learned that quickly after enduring a litany of excuses and subtle attempts at misdirection each time you’ve tried before. Instead, you cross over to the door frame that he leans so heavily against, hair falling across his face, and yank him forwards, shutting the door behind him and turning the lock with a click. The din of the bar below fades as it closes.

“You came to me for a reason, didn’t you?”

He nods, his breath ragged. His eyes are downcast, shadows beneath them a dark purple. He shrugs his coat onto the floor with a roll of his shoulders.

You reach up and slide your hand across the raised scar on his neck and through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. You scratch your nails along his scalp lightly. “What do you need?”

But your words don’t seem to reach him, and he gives no response other than shuddering slightly in your grip. You sigh in mock exasperation. “As much as we work on this, you still need a reminder, hm?”

Raising your hand a little further to tangle in the longer hair at the crown of his head, you form your hand into a fist and yank, bringing Leander stumbling to his knees before you with a groan. His hand closes around your wrist in surprise. Normally he’s a little more with it than this.

There’s always a thrill that runs through you when he’s at your feet. To have someone who is so strong and powerful beneath you, desperate for your touch. But it’s paired with concern - a care for him that he struggles to accept outside of these quiet, secretive moments you share in private.

You loosen your grip and push his hair back from his face, hand gentle. He gazes up at you from his position kneeling on the floor, green eyes unfocused. Your other hand comes to cradle his cheek, thumb resting on the gaunt of this cheekbone. His hand still encircles your wrist, but his grasp is loose now. There’s a moment where you both breathe together, his breaths shuddering and yours controlled as you hold his head in your hands. He leans into your grasp. That feeling of his cheek against your fingertips, something you've only shared with him, still makes your heart pound and your face flush. The strands of his hair feel so silky between your fingers.

“Let’s try again,” you whisper, regarding him evenly. “What do you need?”

“…you,” he breathes, voice not much more than a sigh. There’s something still so far away in his eyes, as if unimaginable horrors are what he sees when he looks at you, rather than your searching gaze. As if he has sank to the bottom of a lake and you’re the light from the surface, a barely perceptible twinkling.

You shake your head, expression hardening. “I’m right here.” You slide your hand out of his hair and let his head slump forwards. The curtain of Leander’s hair casts a shadow over his face. His hand drops from your wrist to hang limply at his side.

You exhale and lift your stocking-clad foot from the floor, tracing it along the inner part of his thigh. He shifts his weight, adjusting in response to your touch. You shove the ball of your foot into his leg at the knee, kicking it out further to widen his stance.

“I'm pleased you’ve come to me. That you trust me enough to see you like this. But for me to help you, I need more.”

There's no response from him except for the steady rise of his back as he breathes. And a rosy flush that begins to color his cheeks and creep down his neck. You press onwards, lifting your foot and placing it at the apex of his thighs. The leather of his pants is smooth beneath your sole. As you slide your foot up and down his hardening length, he groans lowly, air hissing through clenched teeth. “You want to get off just like this?” you taunt, rubbing against him. “Rutting against my foot because you’re too mindless to ask for anything more?”

Leander exhales harshly, taking one hand and placing it behind him, sitting further back on his heels and canting his hips upwards towards you. His hips rock softly, jutting into the firm pressure that you give him. Just as he begins to gain momentum, to grind unabashedly upwards towards you, you step away, leaving his hips stuttering against the air.

Your eyes meet and there’s a glimmer of himself. A look in his eyes that you recognize, instead of the lost man who walked through your door. Not the bravado-filled leader that Eridia knows him as, no. But the flushing, eager to please man that you’re lucky to call your own.

“C’mon, boy,” you coo, watching the hungry desperation that flits across his face. “Speak.”

Leander shudders. “Hurt me. Use me.” He swallows, collecting himself for a moment. Stills his rutting hips that grind uselessly upwards. “Put me to work. Please.”

You slide your palm against the hot surface of his flushed cheek once again and smile. “Now, was that so hard?” You push his hair out of his face again, affection zipping through you as it immediately slips forwards to cover his eyes. “Take my clothes off for me.”

You cross the room to stand beside your bed, waiting for him. He rises unsteadily from the floor, staggering to his feet as he follows. You can see the proud outline of him jutting stiffly through the material of his pants. Leander looms over you and it might be imposing if it wasn’t for the bashful pink that colors his face and the subservient way he casts his eyes to the ground. He reaches for the bottom of your sweater and lifts it up, careful not to tug as it goes over your head. His hands are so gentle. One comes to rest on the bare skin of your hip bone, as if asking for permission. You nod and he continues, bending as he unbuttons your pants and pushes them to the floor. When you shift your weight to step out of them, you can feel the slick slide, wetness already pooling in your underwear. He pauses for a moment when he’s at your feet once again, face in front of your groin. Sways towards you like he can smell your arousal. It’s clear how badly he wants you. How he wants to rip your panties off and press his face in your mound. One hand closes around your ankle in supplication. “Let me taste you,” he pants, lips pink where he’s bitten them.

“Not tonight.” You press your fingers under his chin and bring him to his feet. As you stand before him in your underwear, chill and arousal hardening your nipples, Leander watches you like a drowning man. Like standing still in obedience takes all of his control. His eyes dart over your form, flitting from your face to your breasts and the curve of your waist. “So good for me.”

A smile softens the panting line of his mouth into an arc. He drinks in the praise, eyes dark. Adorable. You pull him closer, feeling the muscles at the small of his back tense as you step into him. Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him, his shoulders curling in as he bends to meet you. It’s a hungry, claiming thing. A kiss where your mouth slides hotly over the slick span of his lips, desperate and biting. There’s a burning emptiness within you, yearning to be filled. Your hand slides further up onto the broad stretch of his back, tongue and teeth messy and panting into his mouth. Your nails claw against his skin and he whines, pulling on your hips and pressing his groin into your waist. Taking what you’ll give him. Trailing away from his mouth, you press heated kisses into the sharp line of his jaw, following the scar as it snakes down his neck.

“Your turn.” You lift the hem of his shirt and he does the rest, undoing belts quickly with fumbling hands. The broad expanse of his chest ripples as he yanks his shirt over his head, muscles firm. He shoves his pants and underwear down, kicking off his shoes with the rest of his clothes. His gloves follow, almost as an afterthought. His cock stands stiffly against his stomach, the head red with desire, and you ache.

“Please,” he breathes, jade-colored eyes fixed on your impassive face. “I need you, I need you so badly. Let me touch you, I’ll make you feel so good, let me, please-”

Despite the way he begs, he keeps a respectful distance, waiting for your command like a dog called to heel. “We’ll see,” you say, and you press your hand into the firm muscle of his chest, steering him backwards until the backs of his knees meet the side of the bed and shoving him down. He drinks you in as you pull off your bra and panties, tossing them to the side. There’s no question about how badly he wants you. He tosses his head back against the mattress, jaw clenched as he waits. Like looking at you is almost overwhelming. “Let me make use of you. Hands under your back.”

Leander places his hands beneath the small of his back, palms open and flat against the mattress. His cock bobs against his abs as he shifts. You crawl across the bed to hover over him and spread yourself open, sitting along the flat side of his length. You won’t let him fuck you, not yet. The skin of his thighs is soft beneath yours. His shoulders tense and he makes a choked noise as you rub against him, wetness letting you slide easily. “The way you feel, let me touch you, please, please, ngh-” You ignore him, grinding against him steadily. Your thighs ache with the stretch of spreading around the width of his legs and you hum, enjoying the feeling of him beneath you. The slick from you spreads across his throbbing cock, wet sounds from your body matching his punched-out breaths. You place your hands on the taut muscles of his pecs, nails biting into his flesh as you lean against him for leverage. The new angle allows you to rub your clit against the head of his cock, and your stomach jerks as the motion sends burning waves of pleasure through you. It’s so easy to close your eyes and use him just as you promised, to enjoy the sweet friction of him beneath you. But it’s better to watch as he struggles so valiantly to contain himself, mumbling promises. How he restricts himself because it’s what you want when he could so easily toss you down into the sheets and have his way with you. To watch how he looks at you with desperation, pleading with his eyes that you’ll have mercy and allow him to do more. If you choose to let him.

Leander is losing himself in the sensation, hands balled in fists beneath him and eyes closed, abs twitching as each grinding slide presses against the head of his cock. “L-Let me fuck you, let me eat you out, anything, I can do it, I’ll be good for you, please, this is so much,” he gasps, senseless with desire. “You’re already good for me,” you pant. “I thought you wanted to be used?” “I-I, ngh, didn’t know what - what I was asking for,” he mutters, and you huff out a breath of laughter. He’s coming back to himself. Though he keeps his hands behind his back, he starts to roll his hips, matching your grinding rhythm. You can feel the strong flex of his thighs as he drives upwards. And the heat of it, the burning ache of it that rolls through your groin like soft flames licking against your skin, builds into a roar. Until your muscles are tense, pulled into a tight line as you chase your release, both of your hips snapping against each other. Only a few more searing rolls are enough for you to peak, shuddering against him, legs clamped around the tense muscles of his waist. You let your weight rest on the flat plane of Leander’s abs, giving yourself a moment for the fluttering sprint of your heart to calm.

“You’re so well behaved!” you say, voice a little too fucked-out to be as sacharine as you intended. His hands are still behind his back but he’s tense, muscles in his forearms working as he struggles to hold still. A flush has spread down from his face to his chest and sweat beads at his hairline, shining faintly in the lantern light. His body shudders, hips jerking upwards in little involuntary motions.

“And you’re - you’re evil,” he states, but there’s no venom in it. “And gorgeous. Please, please, I’m going insane-”

There’s no way you’d make him wait for too long, not when your release hasn’t touched the yearning emptiness in you. The one that aches for him to split you open and fill you. “I don’t know,” you stall, watching the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Convince me.”

“I want you, only you. There’s - there’s no one else that makes me feel like this, t-that makes me hard like this, please, from the moment I saw you, th-the way you touch me, I’m so close already, you’re so fucking-”

Your hand slides down to press against his length and he hisses, breath coming from clenched teeth. “Ngh, I- I need more, I’ve been so good, please, pleasepleaseplease-”

With that, you decide he’s earned it. Or maybe you’re just eager to feel the stretch of him pressing into you. You rise onto your knees and grasp him, pressing the head of his cock to your aching entrance. His pleas give way to a breathy whine as you slowly bottom out, stretched around his length. You take a moment to adjust, circling your hips gently. “I don’t know,” you remark, reaching down and feeling the slick place you stretch taut around him. Press delicately on your clit, so sensitive still that it almost hurts. “I’m pretty tired.”

His look of outrage is enough to make you giggle. His half-lidded eyes open wide in accusation, but you soothe him with a hand on his sternum. “Let’s flip over. I’ll give you a chance to prove your worth.”

It’s as if Leander’s been waiting for you to say the word this entire time. And maybe he has. In a blink, you’re on your back and he’s above you, a strongly muscled arm braced by the side of your head. His other hand slides up the back of your thigh, pulling your knee around his waist. He sinks into you and it feels so different when he’s the one who does it. When he’s the one pressing in so deeply that you can feel it in your stomach. It tears a shuddering moan from you, your voice trembling just like your legs that wrap around him and pull him in closer. You feel all of him as he crowds in close around you, like he can climb within you somehow, blur the borders of where you end and he begins. The fire within your skin isn’t the gentle flame from before. It’s a white hot ache, heat and pleasure blurring into one scorching sensation. As he grinds his hips so sweetly, breath soft against your skin, you know it. How badly he tries to prove that he deserves to be yours.

The composure you’ve kept this whole time is lost and your hands skip from place to place, grasping the sheets, the taut line of his snapping hips, the rigid column of his arm.

Your gasps are punched out with each searing thrust. “J-just like, like that, fuck Leander-” and he can’t reply, jaw tense as he drives into you. It’s been so much, how you’ve teased him and teased him and it’s built into a momentum that’s now unstoppable, the relentless pull of his pleasure crashing forward until he’s drunk with it, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open as his hips pound against yours. You keen, swept along with him. The way his cock strokes through you, the way his hips drag against your clit, the way his chest flexes as you lie within the cage of his arms. It doesn’t take much more for him to come. Leander’s hips stutter, rhythm faltering as he presses further, impossibly deep, the force of it grinding the material of the sheets harshly against your back. He falls to his elbows, shaking. Aftershocks spin through him, and he twitches where he’s buried deep within you, face bowed into the side of your neck. Your hand falls to his shoulder, tracing along the raised lines of the scar that crosses it.

“The things you do to me,” he groans in your ear, still breathless from his release. “That was just what I needed.”

Both of you gasp from the sensation of him pulling out, his release dripping onto the sheets. He flops onto his back next to you, arm slung above his head. You trail your fingers down your stomach to the place where you still burn, your own climax paused but not halted, still aching.

“We’re not done yet,” you murmur. “You’ve gotten me all worked up again.”

He tilts his head towards you, shadows dark under his eyes. “I’ve given you everything I can muster up at the moment,” he protests.

“You can give me more, and you will.” you say firmly, unsteadily rising back onto your knees and crawling over to him. “Don’t worry, I’m very patient. Didn’t you promise to be ever-so good for me?”

His hands come to rest on your hips once more, amused resignation curling his lips into a smirk. “At your service.”

#touchstarved game #touchstarved fic #leander #touchstarved leander #red spring studio #touchstarved #leander x reader #leander x mc #tbh I normally write gender neutral reader so this was my first fic where I gendered them(based on my giftee's gender)

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