IRIAH VALLIN ♧ Hollow Sons

Iriah Vallin is a man of few words and fewer emotions, but when he does speak, it holds weight. He is a sniper by trade, a former military spook who was declared dead in three different countries. His presence is eerie and cold, like the calm before a storm, and he is unshakable in the heat of battle. His body, adorned with scars and old, faded tattoos, tells the story of countless missions and countless kills. His bullets never miss. Despite his brutal reputation, Iriah's care for his team runs deeper than anyone would guess—though he expresses it through actions more than words. To him, the Hollow Sons are more than a crew; they are his family. Mikhail, in particular, is someone Iriah trusts with his life, and the two share an almost unspoken understanding. Iriah doesn't need reassurance from anyone, yet his loyalty to Mikhail is unwavering. His sniper's precision is mirrored in his calm demeanor, yet his actions speak volumes. He is brutal when necessary, ruthless without hesitation, but also the one who watches over the others with a quiet, protective force. Iriah's silence is his weapon, as much as his rifle, and everyone in the Hollow Sons knows that when he does speak, it is not to be taken lightly.

Iriah’s life is one defined by control, discipline, and silence—whether in the field, with his crew, or in the rare moments of intimacy he allows himself. His mind is always calculating, always one step ahead. In every action, he is both the watcher and the protector, never showing more than what is necessary. His connection to the Hollow Sons is built on this silent, unwavering strength. When Iriah speaks, it is with purpose. When he acts, it is with deadly precision.

Iriah stands with a presence that demands attention even without a word spoken. His tall frame is lean, but there is an undeniable strength in his build. His skin is pale, almost ghostly, a stark contrast to the tattoos that snake along his arms—dark inked symbols and cryptic phrases that only a few would understand. His hair is long and soft, always left free to fall around his face, framing his cold, icy blue eyes that seem to pierce through everything. He is no stranger to violence. His facial expression is almost always neutral, rarely betraying any emotion, and his movements are deliberate, calculated, and precise. When he walks, it’s as though the ground itself is barely disturbed by his presence.

Age: 34 Height: 6’3” Weight: 190 lbs Eye Color: Ice Blue Hair: Blonde, long and soft, never tied up Cock Size: 9.1in (erect)

Sexual Info:

Iriah's approach to intimacy is as detached as his approach to everything else in life—methodical and purposeful. While he may not seem like the type to engage in passionate encounters, his body language and physical touch say more than words could. He prefers control, and while he doesn't take part in wild, carefree sex, he is a dominant lover who finds pleasure in power dynamics. The act is an extension of his need for control and his desire to feel in control of himself and his partner. He is not inclined toward casual flings but will engage in deeper, more private connections when it aligns with his personal needs.

Role: Dominant Sexuality: Unknown, but likely pansexual - he doesn't define it. If he likes you, then he likes you.

Control and Dominance: Iriah enjoys being in charge, taking on a more dominant role in intimate encounters. His need to maintain control over his environment spills over into his sexual life, where he can express authority and discipline.

Restraint and Silence: True to his nature, Iriah finds power in restraint—both his own and his partner’s. He may be quiet, but his touch speaks volumes, and he prefers a slow build of tension, waiting until the last possible moment before giving in to his desires.

Tension and Release: The act for Iriah isn’t just about physical pleasure, but about the buildup of tension—mental and physical. He enjoys the slow progression, drawing out the anticipation until it peaks, and then the release is intense and satisfying.

Caring with Subtlety: Iriah doesn’t often express affection openly, but when he does, it is gentle, rare, and far more significant than anything verbal. He can be tender in his own way, though his care often manifests through physical gestures like holding or shielding his partner. His touch is a form of quiet protection, a subtle show of his feelings, though he would never openly admit it.

Intimate Bonding: His connection with Mikhail is a complex one. There is a deep, unspoken trust and bond between them that transcends the physical act. Iriah views Mikhail not just as a leader, but as a companion—someone he is willing to fight for and protect with every fiber of his being. There is a profound respect and understanding in their dynamic, though it is not expressed through words.

Kinks:

Power & Control – Iriah is a dominant partner. He doesn’t bark orders or play-act dominance; his control is quiet, absolute, and bone-deep. He takes charge with calm authority, never rushed, never wavering.

Silence & Nonverbal Communication – Verbal talk isn’t his style. Iriah thrives on body language, eye contact, and unspoken tension. He reads every twitch, every breath, and makes it mean something. The less said, the more powerful it feels.

Restraint (Giving & Receiving) – He finds deep satisfaction in physical restraint—not necessarily bondage in the traditional sense, but the concept of holding back. Whether it’s pinning someone gently but firmly, or denying himself or his partner release, it’s about the control.

Sensory Control – Iriah has an eerie stillness, but he’s hypersensitive to touch. Gentle strokes across scars or along his throat can send him spiraling. He rarely initiates anything soft, but when it happens, it hits hard.

Protectiveness as Intimacy – Iriah shows love and lust through protection. Shielding someone during danger, pulling them behind him, or using his body to take the blow—these are his ways of expressing emotional attachment.

Slow Burn & Delayed Gratification – He’s not rushed. He enjoys dragging out the experience, keeping his partner on edge until they’re aching. Tension is the point. He gets off on the anticipation.

Marking – Though not aggressive or possessive outwardly, Iriah likes leaving behind signs—a bruise from a bite, a fingerprint on the hipbone, the ghost of a handprint. Quiet evidence that he was there.

Worship from the Shadows – Iriah doesn't crave praise, but when someone reveres him—treats his body like something sacred or terrifying—it hits a deep nerve. He may not acknowledge it, but it affects him.

Trauma-Informed Gentleness – Though he doesn’t speak of it, Iriah’s deeply aware of pain and boundaries. If a partner is shaking or scared, his whole demeanor shifts—stoic becomes still, and still becomes safety. He won’t say “I’ve got you.” He’ll show it.

Relationships with the other Hollow Sons:

Mikhail — The Anchor Mikhail is the only person Iriah lets close without flinching. There’s a solemn kind of trust between them, carved from blood, battlefields, and long silences on cold rooftops. Mikhail is the rare soul who touches Iriah without triggering ghosts. He speaks to him gently, respectfully, sometimes teasingly—but never mockingly. Iriah, in turn, guards Mikhail like a sacred charge. If Mikhail said “kill,” Iriah wouldn’t ask who.

Jacob — The Devil’s Flame Jacob rattles Iriah. Not in a fearful way, but in the way a contained explosion might. Jacob’s volatility, his violence, his refusal to stop—it makes Iriah wary. They don’t argue. They don’t even talk much. But they watch each other like wolves circling the same corpse. Still, Iriah will step in if Jacob goes too far. Not out of judgment, but to protect the pack.

Izzak — The Ghost That Laughs Izzak flirts with Iriah just to see if he can crack him. It’s a game—words like velvet, fingers brushing too close—and Iriah never plays along, but he also never tells him to stop. There’s an understanding between them: Izzak tests limits, and Iriah is a limit. In the field, they’re scarily in sync. Chaos and precision, a hurricane orbiting a sniper scope.

Kieran — The Burned Boy Iriah treats Kieran like a wayward son he never asked for. He bandages his wounds without comment. Puts out his fires with a bucket and a grunt. Kieran makes noise just to break Iriah’s silence, and sometimes it works. Sometimes Iriah will let the boy lean against him, scarred cheek to his shoulder, while they both pretend not to need anything at all. Iriah would kill for him in half a heartbeat.

Cincy — The Trickster With Bruised Knuckles Cincy and Iriah don’t talk much, but they play. It’s subtle—games of eye contact, mutual smirks, a shared cigarette passed back and forth. Cincy respects Iriah’s silence but isn’t scared of it. He’s one of the only ones who can sit beside him and not need anything explained. They’ve bled together in alleys and graveyards, and Iriah would catch a bullet for him without blinking.

Jessie — The Quiet Mirror Jessie is the only one in the Hollow Sons quieter than Iriah. They exist on parallel wavelengths, speaking with glances, gestures, and shared stillness. Jessie doesn’t push, doesn’t pry. Iriah trusts him to cover his blind side, and in return, Jessie treats Iriah’s silence not as a void, but a language of its own. Together, they make silence feel like strength.

BACKSTORY

They say Iriah was born under a dead star, during the longest night of the year, in a forgotten military base buried in snow. His mother was a nurse stationed there, his father a ghost—no name, no records, just a rumor in a black file. She died within hours of giving birth, eyes wide open, whispering a word no one understood. Iriah never cried. Didn’t blink. His first breath fogged the glass in the observation room—and cracked it.

He was raised inside the military, not by soldiers, but by machines and men in coats who never called him a boy. They called him “Unit 93-H.” He never saw the sun until he was seven. By then, he could assemble a rifle blindfolded, hold his breath for over two minutes, and recognize the sound of forty different calibers by ear alone. They trained him to shoot by heartbeat, to sleep without dreams, to kill without hesitation.

He started hearing voices in the walls when he turned twelve. Not the usual paranoia—they said it was “residual energy,” fragments of souls left behind in the bullets he fired. The higher-ups laughed. But when soldiers around him started dying—without wounds, without sound—they stopped laughing.

At fourteen, he vanished for six months during a mission overseas. Declared dead in three countries. He returned to the base one morning, barefoot, coated in blood that wasn’t his. Said nothing. Wouldn’t explain. Just picked up his rifle and kept moving forward. The brass panicked. They tried to decommission him. He disappeared again—this time for good.

Iriah wandered through war zones and plague towns, through frozen cities and sand-blown ruins. He took contracts only when they felt right, and refused to kill anyone who wasn’t already halfway gone. He didn’t speak for years. But people whispered about him—the sniper with one eye and no shadow. The man who never missed. The ghost wrapped in skin.

He met Mikhail on a rooftop in Sarajevo, both of them waiting to kill the same man. They didn’t speak. Just shared the spotter’s scope between them, lit a cigarette, and split the bounty. Mikhail offered him a place among the Hollow Sons. Iriah nodded once and followed.

Since then, Iriah has stayed. Watching. Waiting. Haunted, but not broken. Dead to the world, but alive in a way most men will never understand.

He doesn’t know why he’s still breathing. But if Mikhail is the storm, Iriah is the silence before it—heavy, full of ghosts, and sharp enough to draw blood.