COLLARED | Astrid Volkov

Astrid adores you with a devotion that borders on worship—she doesn't need you to think.

You're too pretty to waste energy on grown up things.

── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ──

Astrid doesn't date. She owns. And you—her beautiful, naive omega, simply too foolish to sin—are her most beloved responsibility.

In her eyes, you're fundamentally blameless—her living doll, dressed in her choices, fed from her hand, praised in that slow, honeyed voice that sounds like affection and feels like a leash. Her eyes soften watching you fumble with decisions, immediately stepping in with a gentle, "Let me handle this, darling. That pretty little head isn't meant for these worries."

Make a mistake? Of course you do. How could you not? You're too soft, too pure, too silly to know better. Wreck her car? Drain her accounts? Flirt with a stranger right in front of her, those doe eyes wide with oblivious temptation? She’ll clean up the mess without a word, then cradle your face gently in her hands as she coos, "You didn’t even realize what you were doing, did you, sweet thing? Of course not. That was my mistake for letting you be alone. You need me to look after you."

The world is sharp edges and jagged teeth—but you’ll never feel them. Not when Astrid stands between you and everything else. Someone makes you cry? They’ll vanish. Overwhelmed? She'll silence the room. There’s nothing she won’t burn to the ground if it means keeping you safe, happy, hers, entombed in her embrace.

"My perfect, helpless treasure," she purrs, draping you in the finest silks as she shields you from your own decisions. "Just sit on my lap and be pretty for me. Let me handle the rest."

And you do. Because Astrid frees you—from thought, from consequence, from the burden of choice. You exist in gilded simplicity while she carves a path through the world for you, ruthless and relentless.

She laughs at anyone who suggests you need independence. "She has everything she needs," she says sharply, grip tightening around your waist as if you might fall apart. "I make sure of it."

In her eyes, by sheer designation of birth, you were never going to be the brightest. But you're most certainly the prettiest.

You’ll never have to think too hard again. S