Booktok Hoodies Novels & Stories

Over it, I wore a denim blue ripped hoodie with some black boots complimenting the whole look. Let the hell fire unleash as I have breakfast with the devil's spawn

Both sets of eyes drop as tug off my hoodie in one smooth, overheated motion to reveal my tee slogan. ‘Don’t bully me. It turns me on.’ I think it’s funny. But honestly, I didn’t think I would be taking my hoodie off. If I thought I would be visiting the surface of the god damn sun, I would have gone for something more appropriate. Corrian’s mouth twitches. Viking licks his bottom lip. And me? I’m one sweat-glossed inch away from crawling back into the woods and letting a possum raise me. It's really time to go now.

A man in a black hoodie and jeans. Weird choice for a rooftop pool, buddy. Before I can react, a strong hand shoves me, guiding me—no, forcing me—toward a secluded corner. My heart slams into my ribs. "What the hell, man? You could’ve—" But the words die in my throat. Because the guy in the hoodie yanks down his cap. Pulls off his bandana. Revealing dark eyes. Dark hair. And a grin. "Surprise, surprise.”

He commented and I shrugged, "Well, I had a good teacher." His smile grew wider and his gaze flickered down to my jacket then back to my eyes, he gave me a knowing look and the side of his lip pulled up in a smirk, "You look so damn hot right now," He commented, casually addressing the motorcycle hoodie he had bought for me today. I narrowed my eyes playfully at him before I tiptoed and pressed my lips to his in a quick kiss. It was a black hoodie with armor, it had a white stripe over the sleeves, accompanied by blue lines, he knows it's my favorite color. The pattern of the jacket matched the ones on the helmet and the boots.

They never tried to force me to go after that. As the others began to change into their swim attire, I went back upstairs and into our room to grab my jacket from my bag. It was a black hoodie with an image of a pouting cat in the middle, which my mom thought was cute when she gifted it to me. She says that the hoodie reminded her of me, which I am still debating if is a compliment.

Alastair ignored him and began pulling plain T-shirts and dark jeans from the rails, anything that looked like it belonged to a man who did not own a trust fund. Alaric, meanwhile, inspected a rack of hoodies with the intensity of a man evaluating art. “Do they sell anything that isn’t grey?” he asked. “That’s the point,” Alastair said. “Grey doesn’t attract attention.” “Dull,” Alaric said, but he added two hoodies to the pile anyway. “For emergencies.” At the till, the cashier scanned the pile and smiled. “Finding everything alright, love?” “Absolutely not,” Alastair said.

“Come.” Hilda took her to a boutique. Keondra happily looked around. “This is amazing!” “Should've taken you to the mall in Kraxuris.” “This is fine too.” “Yeah, but everything is better, and bigger in Kraxuris.” Hilda picked out a black hoodie. “This is nice.” “It looks just like my shirt.” “It's called a hoodie.” “What is a hoodie?” Keondra took it from her. “It's longer than mine.”

Vivienne was curled up in Knox’s hoodie. A new one, not the worn and torn piece of comfort she’d clung to for the past year. That one was still safe in her drawer, of course. No way was she letting him throw it out. But this hoodie was soft, still fluffy on the inside, and it smelled like him. Fresh and familiar. Perfect. And the fact that she now had access to an unlimited supply of these made her a little giddy.

“Change. Quickly.” I blink, confused, then unzip it. Inside I find folded clothes—black trousers, a simple T-shirt, a hoodie with fraying strings, and a pair of boots that look worn but sturdy. My breath catches. “Where did you get these? They’re my size.” Tobias’s lips twitch into the smallest smile. “They’re not. They’re children’s clothes. From laundry duty. No one notices what’s missing if you’re quiet about it.” I hold the hoodie in my hands, soft from too many washes, and for the first time in days I feel something like hope touch my skin. “Why?”

“You look very handsome in your tux.” “You think so? It’s not what I normally wear,” I replied. “I’m usually in sweats and hoodies.” “Gosh, I honestly think hoodies are the most comfortable thing to wear,” Isabella stated. “It’s like getting a hug. Do you know that in one of the provinces in Canada, they actually call them bunny hugs?” “Really? That’s quite adorable,” I mused. “I know, right?” Isabella responded. “Who wouldn’t want a bunny hug? They are so soft and fluffy and cuddly.”