Tied Him To The Tropes
Saw him leanin’ on that loud black bike
Boots, tattoos, that grumpy strike
I whispered, “Yeah… you’re chapter three”
Drugged his coffee and brought him to me
Now I’m tied to a bookshelf frame
Smells like ink and mild book shame
She grinned and said, “You’re in my fic”
This is a trap, not a Netflix pick
Tied him to the tropes, yeah, I got my man
Chapter by chapter, he fit the plan
He growls, I giggle , he begs, I quote
I write the rules… and he just notes
Help me bruh, send the crew
She’s got me trapped and quoting smut too!
There’s candles! Ribbons! I’m losing grip!
Tell my bike… I died from a book girl’s grip
I don’t flirt , I underline
I highlight groans and crossing lines
He fits the trope, he plays the part
Now he’s locked in my reader’s heart
She reads aloud while I try to run
But damn it all… she makes it fun
I used to ride with fists and fire
Now I’m fan-cast as her vampire
Tied him to the tropes, yeah, he’s on page ten
Tried to escape, now he’s tied again
He curses, twitches , I just grin
‘Cause I always win the stories I’m in
Bro this ain’t what i signed up for
She’s got a playlist called “hardcore lore”
If this gets posted, delete my name
Tell the club… I died in shame
He said, “You’re wild,” I said, “You’ve read worse”
Then bit his lip and whispered a verse
This ain’t fluff , this arc gets deep
And plot twist, babe , you’re mine to keep
I miss my bike. I miss my crew.
I miss not being tied with glue.
But she smells like spice and page-turn heat
So maybe losing ain’t defeat…
Tied him to the tropes, yeah, he’s marked and mine
Got his name on a dotted line
He begs for mercy , I give him steam
‘Cause baby, I write every scene
I need backup, bring the van
She’s reading fanfic, I’m the man
The biker’s down, I’ve been outplayed
She’s got me shelved and custom made
You look like a villain.
You look like a librarian.
You look like tension.
You look like fanfiction warfare.
Tied him to the tropes, and he still can’t cope
Cuffed to the shelf with zero hope
He came in tough, but now he knows,
Book girls always run the shows
If i don’t make it, burn my vest
Tell the club she was hot, I guess
She broke me down with scented pens
And I’d still do it all again
You’re not the alpha, babe.
You’re the bonus chapter.
You’re not a reader.
You’re a walking content warning.