Tiktok Poet Novels & Stories

If she decides to submit it, she will do it secretly, no one should ever know about it. It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She threw herself back on her bed and finally have the rest of the night to stroll on Lee's Tik-Tok account. He's got over 10 thousand followers on Tik-Tok and thousands of likes on each of his posts. It was very impressive. He's a huge BTS fan, he danced to all of their choreography by heart. Most of his posts were side-by-side frames of himself dancing to BTS songs next to it. He nailed all the moves almost as if he was the 8th member of the group.

"I don't know, I like them." I smiled at his genuine beaming expression, "You can make a vlog of your time here, Dean. No one's gonna kill you for it and it'll be fun." "You think so?" "Sure." I nodded. "You can post it on tiktok too and-" "Oh, no, no, no, no, no." "What?" I laughed. "I don't even have a tiktok account." "Why not? Tiktok's fun." I examined his expression. "Wait, you're not one of those people who think TikTok is female, are you?"

With that, the tall, slender figure stood up, strutted out of the bar, and disappeared into the night. Parawee sat alone, drinking heavily for a long while until Methaya called and finally came to pick him up so he could rest. In the dead of night, Bellie created a burner account and uploaded a video to TikTok. She immediately boosted the post, sinking tens of thousands of baht into it to ensure maximum visibility. She was determined to publicly expose the identity of the woman dating the nation's biggest superstar, so everyone could watch the trainwreck unfold simultaneously. Photos of Kajarin in the hospital.

But I had underestimated how desperately people fight back when they have nothing left to lose. At 3 PM, I received a message from my lawyer. Lia had just posted a video on TikTok, and it already had a hundred thousand views. I opened the app and found her video. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face streaked with tears, as she sobbed to the camera.

Some were going live on I*******m, TikTok, and X, saying things like, “Guys, guess who showed up today? Billionaire Adrian's queen and you all know I don't have time for dull moments; we are connecting with her right away.” Maybe I would have had any problem with the whole thing if they were doing it decently and coded but we're just making a hell of noise everywhere and making a big deal out of nothing. This was one of the numerous reasons why I hated the spotlight, so much inconvenience. I kept smiling sheepishly at all the cameras put in front of me, I couldn't help but curse those ladies under my breath.

Then came the words. “I have been poisoning you.”

The damage was already done. I grabbed my own phone from the nightstand. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped it twice. T*****r. I*******m. TikTok. Reddit. Everywhere. The video was everywhere. "Celebrity Nate caught in alley hookup" "Singer gets dirty behind diner" "Who is the mystery woman?" The comments blurred together and made me sick. Who is she? He could do better. Probably a prostitute. They're both trash. Fuck! Fuck!!!!!!

“I’ll update you. Focus on healing what’s in front of you.” When the call ended, Amina leaned back, staring at herself in the salon mirror. Fresh braids glistened under the light, the stylist oiling her scalp. She lifted her phone, opened TikTok, and filmed a short clip, her smiling, swinging her braids, nails catching the light. She captioned it: Got my baby back. Within minutes, the comments flooded in. —“We need a YouTube channel for this love!” —“Omg start a YouTube, abeg!”

I did not know she wrote poetry or that so many people loved her like that. “There is a lot you don’t know about mate. She is awesome. You are just too dumb to see it.” ‘Shut it, Convel. She is not our mate anymore. Besides, I thought you were not speaking to me” “She will always be my mate. Now you shut it so I can hear my mate.” Yep, you guessed it. He blocked me again. ‘Trevor, I didn’t know your friend was a poet. She seems pretty popular here. The crowd loves her. Listen to them calling her name.”

Lennon understood the distinction by now. "Understood," he said. Meanwhile, across campus, Archer had posted a TikTok. He had been composing it since Roman's two-word reply that morning, which he had read forty-seven times across the course of the day and found a new thing in each time. The video was twelve seconds, just Archer looking at the camera, head tilted slightly, with a caption that read: “when you realize the most terrifying person you've ever met might actually like you back.” He had not tagged anyone. He didn't need to.