Salutations! Okay, so here's the thing; this story is very, very vulgar. There's coarse language, explicit sexual content, and these guys are all around rude, especially Grimmjow and Nnoitra. At beginning of this, the two of them will use extremely obscene language, especially when it comes to women. If you have a problem with the following terms, please do not read this fic:

-bitch(es)
-hoe(s)
-thot(ties)
-slut(s)
-faggot
-motherfucker
-various other swears

With that said, here is the first chapter of The T.H.O.T. Chronicles. I hope you all can find it enjoyable :)

Chapter One: Searching

THOT (noun): An individual with a number of concurrent sexual partners that is well above the established cultural norm. These individuals have coitus for the purpose of sexual pleasure, approval, or to fulfill an emotional void. These individuals may or may not have sexually transmitted infections, however, this term is still applied to whores with safe sex practices. These acts are not for the exchange of illicit narcotics or monetary/economic gain as observed in prostitutes, crackheads, junkies, or gold diggers. (It is important to note that one's sexual indiscretions must be well known within the community in order for one's "thot" status to be identifiable.) The term itself is of urban origins and translates to the acronym "That Hoe Over There". Unfortunately, due to gender inequality, this term has been largely attributed to females; however, males can also exhibit "thot-like" behavior and should be identified as such.

This is the chronicle of four thots, and how they change each other's lives for better and worse. . .

Ichigo "Petty Wap" Kurosaki

I sigh as I scroll aimlessly through the contacts in my phone. Now that I'm thinking about it, probably ninety-five percent of the names and contact information in here are completely useless. There's names in here that I literally cannot place a face with in my mind. It's absolutely ridiculous. I just got off the phone with one sorry motherfucker who happens to be out with his friends, and I'm debating whether I should call another one. I suppose it's for the best that he's out though.

Kaien is this guy I met while in line at Barnes & Noble where we happened to be buying the same book. He was attractive, and I'm not just saying that because he vaguely resembles me, no, he was nice, smart, all that good stuff. We had a couple of nice wholesome dates, and all was good until I discovered that he had a third nipple. Yeah, that's right; a fucking third nipple. Now that may seem a bit petty to some people but those people can shut their mouths because they don't know my story or my struggle. Shit is creepy as fuck. I've come to the conclusion that he was supposed to be some kind of milk-giving animal but everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Shit, I don't know, but what I do know is that this iPhone is fabulous, because I'm hitting his name with that slide-delete motion.

I continue my slow perusing of the contacts with a bored expression on my face. Just stupid fucker, after dumb fucker, after sorry motherfucker. Thinking about it, I start to get a bit disgusted with myself. The fact that I let these poor excuses for men inside me, inside my world - even if only for a few brief minutes - is a little disturbing.

Maybe if I give a little synopsis, it'll make a bit more sense.

Sorry motherfucker numero uno: Ggio, a nineteen-year-old video game programmer. Fondest memory: world-shattering sex on the hood of my 2006 Nissan Maxima. Most traumatic memory: finding out he was nineteen from his dear old mommy. See, I'm twenty-seven, a certified grown ass man, and this nucca was barely outta pissing the bed. And his mommy happened to be near him when I'd sent him a message about how I was finally gonna let him hit from the back that night. Needless to say she was less than excited to hear - or read, rather - the news. Like I was ever contacting him again after some fucked up shit like that. Slide-delete.

Sorry motherfucker numero dos: Kensei, a thirty-three-year-old manager at the local supermarket. Fondest memory: when he used to massage every ache out of my body - I'm talking hot oil, candles, sensual stroking, the works - before he'd proceed to put even more aches in, but of a much better variety, i.e. an ache in my lower back. Most traumatic memory: giving him one thousand dollars to help him get a new apartment - for his girlfriend. That's right, G-I-R-L-friend. Little scrawny bitch named Mashiro, who had the fucking nerve to come to me and say, "thanks for the place". I had seriously considered committing perjury and taking both of their trifling asses to Judge Mathis and getting my shit back, because I'm petty as hell. But nah, neither of them are worth the time nor the effort, so fuck it. Slide-delete.

Sorry motherfucker numero tres: Shuuhei, a twenty-six-year-old grad student. Fondest memory: cruising through the countryside on the back of his vintage motorcycle before mind-blowing sex in a quiet clearing in the forest. Most traumatic memory: finding out he'd used my credit card to buy the bike and also to treat himself to a brand new wardrobe. Fucker moved to Iceland not long after, but best believe I kicked his ass before he got on that plane. Sorry piece of shit. What a waste of perfectly good internal organs. Slide-delete.

Sorry motherfucker numero cuatro: Starrk, twenty-eight-year-old bum extraordinaire, and also my high school sweetheart. His sleepy ass was the one to pop my ass cherry back in the good ol' days. Fondest memory: discovering the joys of anal sex together in my friend Loly's bedroom during one of her many, many parties. Most traumatic memory: finding out from my best friend, Shinji, that not only was Starrk fucking Loly, but he got the dusty ass bitch pregnant too. Those two even went and eloped the day before graduation. I thought he was fucking crazy, so I asked him, "Are you fucking crazy?" His response was that he planned on living off of Loly's inheritance and also the two hundred dollars they'd get in food stamps for the baby. Now if that isn't straight up trifling, I don't know what is. Slide-delete.

About half an hour later, I'm certain there's only seven contacts in my phone, but to hell with it. I'm done with sorry motherfuckers. There comes a point as a grown ass man when you have to man the fuck up about shit and say no. That's exactly what I'm gonna do. If my only option for getting some release comes from fucking with a sorry motherfucker, then I'm gonna say no. I know one motherfucker who has yet to fail to help me bust a nut, and that is my right hand. I look down at it as I head for my bedroom.

Don't fail me now, bro.

Shinji "WetWet" Hirako

Saturday night. Toonami night. There's only really two shows that I care for besides Attack on Titan - 'cause everybody loves the good old Shingeki no Kyojin - Space Dandy, and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. There's just something about Japanese animation that does something to me; maybe it's my half Japanese roots, but I digress. The new season of Space Dandy is starting tonight, and I'm just as excited as a thirsty hoe about to take a sip of pimp juice. I've been watching the trailers, and I even rewatched the first season on one of my many anime-streaming websites. I even got popcorn, candy, and other various snacks from Wal-Mart before I came home so I'd have enough snackage for the big night. But wouldn't you know, my fucking family had to go and ruin shit!

My parents usually turn in well before Toonami starts, since my mother is the type to still get up at like five o'clock in the morning, even though she retired five years ago. My father usually goes straight to sleep once he gets home from his job at an electrical company. But not tonight. No, tonight I have to get the hell out because their old asses are trying to fuck for the first time since I was born.

Shut up, I know they've had sex since then, but I like to make myself believe that they haven't. It doesn't take much convincing for me to be hitting that record button, getting dressed and calling up my best friend, Ichigo, because I'll be damned if I'm going through this alone.

"Hello?" he answers sleepily.

"Get the hell up. We goin' out."

"No the hell we're not. I gotta work tomorrow."

"So do I, but ya think I wanna stay in the house tonight and possibly risk hearin' my old crusty ass daddy pound my mother into the mattress?!" I ask as I pull on a pair of skin tight acid washed jeans.

"Oh shit. . .I'll pick you up in half an hour," he says, and I hear him stirring around in the background.

"You're the best, Ichi."

"Yeah, yeah. You better be ready when I get there."

"Bruh, I'm already halfway out the door," I say as I pull the front door shut behind me. Ichigo laughs before hanging up. I sit down on the porch, pulling out my cigarettes as I scroll through the many text messages from the many men I've slept with. I don't even have their real names saved in my phone, just physical attributes that attracted me to them. Here's a message from Slick Hair:

Baby, you busy tonight? I need you to work your magic mouth over this dick.

I roll my eyes. I swear, blow a guy once and it'll be like the kid in Narnia asking for Turkish Delight. I'll admit, I did consider being serious with Slick Hair for a minute; he's fine, got pretty brown eyes, more regal than a freaking emperor, and I'm not kidding about the slick hair thing. Shit's pushed back with this one piece hanging down like he's Superman or something. It's like. . .have you ever seen someone so fine that your asshole quivers? Well yeah, that's what happened to me when I saw him.

The thing is, Slick Hair had - and still has - a girlfriend when he approached me. That does not fly with Shinji Hirako, though I couldn't resist giving him head on a few occasions. Now he thinks he can just come to me whenever his prude of a girlfriend gets stingy with the mouth. Nah, he's good. I delete the message and move to the next one. Ahh, Tattoos. Let's see what he has to say:

Babe, can I come over tonight? I know you miss me.

Ha! El oh el. That's hilarious. I'll admit, Tattoos is fine as fuck; he's got this long gorgeous crimson hair, pretty auburn eyes, and these tribal tattoos covering his sexy, muscular body, yaaasssss, I tremble at the thought of that body - but he's got a pencil dick. I thought I could make it work, but no. When I let him hit the first time, I felt nothing. I shit you not, I didn't feel a single thing. It was the same on all other occasions, and I just had to say no. I delete his message too, and read the next one. Ooh, now here's a good one - Snake Eyes:

Why haven't you been texting back, babe? I know you miss the way I used to pound you into the mattress. The way you moaned my name was so sexy. Lemme come over tonight.

Okay, so that one is true. Snake Eyes is fine as hell, and he can fuck like. . .if you compared sex with Olympic swimming, then Snake Eyes is like the Michael Phelps of sex. Eight gold medals, God bless America, yaaasssss baby yaaasssss! But here's the thing; outside the bedroom, he's. . .creepy. I don't mean that he like creeps or anything, it's just that being around him is unsettling. He smiles all the time, and not just any smile, but an eyes-closed, no teeth showing smile. I think the only time I've seen him open his eyes is when he came. They're real pretty too, all ice blue and shit. But still, it's weird and I'm just not for it. Message deleted.

I sigh as Ichigo pulls up in my driveway. I'm thirty years old and all I have is a bunch of fuck buddies. Being alone sucks, but what can I do? Guess I better try and make the most of tonight.

Grimmjow "Dick 'em Down" Jaegerjaquez

The engine of my Cadillac Escalade purrs quietly as I cruise down the freeway on the way to my home. Another long day at work, but hey, I'm making money. In fact, I'm taking that statement to another level; I'm making mad money. I'm already set for life and I'm only twenty-nine years old. The sky's the limit, but I'm already headed to Mars, feel me? I turn the volume on the radio up, the bass vibrating the windows as I nod my head to the smooth beat of my favorite song.

Ain't nobody dope as me I'm dressed so fresh so clean

Don't you think I'm so sexy I'm dressed so fresh so clean

Ain't nobody dope as me I'm dressed so fresh so clean

I love when you stare at me I'm dressed so fresh so clean

Call me arrogant, but this song defines me. I was born to be looked at, with my crazy sky blue hair, crystalline blue eyes, and all around exotic looks. Mom's French, Dad's German, I speak six languages and those aren't the only talents I have with my tongue, if you know what I mean. Not only do I have looks, but I've got money, status, all of that. Broads hit their knees, eyes closed when they meet me, mouths wide open just begging me to skeet. It borders ridiculous at times, but I won't say I hate it entirely. Nothing wrong with a little bit of self-confidence, right?

There's a three year waiting list of women who want to be the next Mrs. Jaegerjaquez, but I gotta say I'm not all that interested in settling down just yet. I'm a very open-minded person when it comes to sex, and by that I mean that I don't want to have sex with just one person over and over. I'll try anything once, and it just so happens that I've tried fucking with males, and I like that just as much as fucking females. So what's the point in attaching myself to one person - one woman - when I can have as many people as I want? I don't see a point in that at all.

I turn the music down as I pull into the driveway of my three-story house. My phone rings, and I roll my eyes. Just another broad who thinks she's special. Spare me.

Let me explain something; I'm not one of those men who's short on pussy. Remember what I said about having bitches lined up? I wasn't lying. So why is it that one bitch thinks she's got something that another one doesn't have? When one says no, there's always, always another one that'll say yes. They wanna give me that "oh you think you can just fuck me like you fucked all those other hoes?" The answer is yes. If I ran through a hundred and one bitches in my life thus far, what lead her to believe that she wouldn't be one hundred and two? Fuck's so special about her? If she want special treatment, I'ma need a reason for me to treat her special; I'm talking PowerPoint presentation on the pussy, feel me? I'm not about to deny myself any form of pleasure because of their over-estimation of themselves. Fuck wrong with these hoes?

As far as males go, well I haven't had any experiences like that. I don't think that males have that whole mindset where one of them thinks their shit is better than the next one. I mean both pussy and dick are a free renewable resource. There's no need to try to leverage with a free resource, especially when there's plenty of it. Being a businessman, I know that. Trying to leverage with pussy or dick is like trying to sell air. Like what the fuck I need to buy air for? The shit is literally everywhere!

Believe me, I've had quite the bit of backlash come my way from women I've slept with, but you know what I have to say to all of them?

Fuck. You. From the bottom of my heart.

I get so tired of hearing females talk about how they're different from the other females I've run into. Like I'm not stupid; they're all the same, and until I meet someone who convinces me otherwise, I can do good by my damned self, understand?

I pick up my phone and swipe the screen without looking, placing it against my ear.

"What?"

"Damn, salty or nah?" a gravelly voice asks and I laugh as I hop out of my truck making my way to my front door.

The person on the line happens to not be a basic bitch thirsting for the dick. It's my ridiculously tall, ridiculously raunchy best friend, Nnoitra Gilga. If you think I'm bad, trust me, Nnoi's ten times worse.

"What up, kid? How you feeling?"

"Horny as fuck. You tryna hit up Lucid tonight?" I shrug off my jacket and hang it up as I ponder the offer.

"I'on' know, fam. Got that meeting with the buyers tomorrow morning and shit. I'on' wanna be up in there lookin' like who did it and why."

"C'mon, boy! Ya fam is dying over here. I'm tired of the hoes I got; I need some new ones!"

"Why don't you get up with that Tesla kid? You know he's been thirstin' for the dick since the day he was born," I say, laughing when Nnoi scoffs.

You see, Nnoi isn't as open-minded as I am when it comes to sex. I don't know what it is, but whenever I bring up the prospect of him breaking on through to the other side, he gets so agitated. I don't even do it to be serious anymore; the shit's just funny as hell now.

"I ain't fuckin' no dude, son. You can keep that gay shit right over there."

"I'm not gay, I'm bi. There's a difference. Now, what time you tryna be out?"

"Be there at ten." I look at the clock above my fireplace. It's eight-fifteen now, so I've got plenty of time to get fresh.

"A'ight, cuz."

"Don't be fuckin' late 'cause you primpin'n'shit like you a bitch or somethin'."

"Boy, shut the hell up! I'll fuck you right now!" Nnoitra laughs loudly.

"Ya gotta catch my ass first, boy! Get off this damn phone so you can get'cha ass ready!"

"A'ight, a'ight."

I hang up the phone and jog upstairs to the master bedroom. After tossing my phone onto my bed, I step into my walk-in closet. It doesn't take long for me to pick an outfit; Nnoitra just exaggerates. I pull out a deep grey knit Dolce and Gabbana sweater, dark denim Versace jeans and black Timberland boots. I lay the outfit down on my bed and nod in approval. Now what do I want tonight? I don't feel like bothering with any clingy women tonight, so I'm scoping for the same sex. I smile to myself as I head for the bathroom, catching my reflection in my standing mirror. Damn, I am so fine it hurts. I'ma get some ass tonight, no doubt about it.

Nnoitra "Daddy Long Schlong" Gilga

I look at my Rolex for the eighteenth time. It's ten-thirty. I knew his ol' prissy ass was gon' be late. If he doesn't hurry his ass up, I'm gon' beat it. Just then I see his Escalade pull up and I find myself smiling even though I'm irritated. The kid stepping out of that fine luxury vehicle is the best friend I have in this whole world. It's been awhile since we've had time to go out together, and I'm glad to see his little punk ass. Don't tell him that though; he'd never let me live it down.

"Boy! What the hell took you so long, with your unpunctual ass?!" I call as he walks towards me. He shrugs, yelling out,

"Ya know I gotta bust that first nut so I can keep the party goin', fam!" I laugh as we grip hands and partake in a tough handshake.

"C'mon, let's get up in here, boy. All the bad bitches pro'ly been scooped up already."

"Good thing I ain't lookin' for a bitch tonight," Grimm says, his face breaking out in a predatory grin. I frown a bit as we walk inside the dimly lit club.

I've known about Grimm's preference for about two years now. I was a little shocked when he told me about it at first, and I'll admit that I still find it a bit strange. I mean, I ain't gotta problem with gay people or nothing, but I'm not into that myself. At least I don't think so. I ain't never met no dude fine enough to make me wanna fuck 'em. If that ever happens, with God as my witness, I will do it. Until then though, I'ma stick with that ol' tried'n'true.

Speaking of the ol' tried'n'true, it is everywhere tonight. Bitches from the window to the wall. I rub my hands together, grinning from ear to ear. I hear Grimmjow's laugh above the music.

"Boy, ya look like a damned preying mantis, wit'cho lanky ass!" he says, and I can't help but laugh as we make our way towards the bar.

"Why you always tryna roast me, fam?"

"Because ya make it so easy!"

"A'ight, a'ight. Let's get some drinks in us, and handle our business." Grimm nods his agreement, and I signal for the bartender. We order our drinks, and once I have mine, I turn to face the dance floor, scoping the room for tonight's conquest. I'm just getting a peep of a fine honey with pretty ass mocha skin and a bad set of hips when I feel Grimm nudge me.

"Aye, boy, check that one over there," he says, and I follow his gaze down the bar to where an orange-haired male sits leaning against the bar, looking like he's been to better places and seen better things. Shit, if I said he wasn't good looking, I'd be lying, and one thing I never do is lie. "Ya think I should cop that, fam?"

"Ya think he's gon' let'chu?" Grimm scoffs and gestures towards himself.

"Bruh, I know ya only got one good eye and all, but I know ya can see what the fuck I look like. I'ma get up in them walls tonight, or my name isn't Grimmjow Maurice Jaegerjaquez." I laugh and take a sip of my drink.

"Umph, boy done busted out the whole government and shit. A'ight, if you can slide up in them guts tonight, I'll give ya. . .fifteen hundred."

"A'ight, it's a bet, kid," Grimm says. We shake hands and he downs the rest of his drink before slinking his way over to the unsuspecting ginger. The look the oranget gives my friend with his pretty brown eyes tells me that I might be out fifteen hundred bucks by the end of this night. Oh well.

I turn my attention back towards the sea of gyrating bodies, looking for one that I'd like to get to know biblically. Looks like I missed out on that fine mocha bitch, since she's got that ass grinding into some blond's crotch. Lucky bastard. I continue my search until I spot something that peaks my interest. Long blonde hair whips back and forth as a glorious ass sways to the tune of the song playing on the speakers. My, my, may the good lord smite me right now if I say I've ever seen an ass so perfect. I set my drink down and make my way over to this goddess, sliding in right behind her and following her movements with my own. She seems startled at first, but once I let her know what's up by making sure she can feel what I've got going on in my pants, she's definitely with it.

A few minutes pass like this, and I swear my dick is hard enough to chop cocaine. I decide I have to see the face that goes with this gorgeous body, so I turn her around.

Except. . .

It's not. . .

A her. . .

. . .

Oh my fuck.

I almost backflip away from this dude, feeling myself become nauseous. Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. How did I not know that he was. . .? Oh my god. I turn around and walk back to the bar, sitting down and ordering another scotch.

I've almost got my breathing back to normal when I feel a presence next to me.

"Hey, what gives, daddy long legs? Ya can't just give me a thrill like that and then leave me hangin'," a smooth voice says, and I frown looking everywhere but at him.

"Look, son, I ain't about that gay shit, a'ight? Just an honest mistake."

A perfectly crafted eyebrow arches upward, and caramel colored eyes scrunch at the corners as he gives a slight chuckle.

"What's yer name, daddy?"

"Stop calling me daddy."

"Why, 'cause ya like it?" I don't respond and he laughs again. I don't think I can handle this for much longer.

"Look, why're you bothering me? Are ya even s'posed to be in here? Don't they do a screening for yer kind at the entrance?"

"Ha! That's fuckin' rich, since ya friend is over there tryna get in my best friend's pants as we speak," he says with a nod in the general direction of Grimm and the ginger. Damn, Grimm looks like he's about to eat the kid, and Orangey doesn't seem to mind at all. I definitely lost this bet.

"He ain't gay."

"Looks gay to me."

"He's not gay, he's bi. There's a difference," I say, repeating the mini-lecture Grimm had given me earlier.

"Yeah, yeah," the blond quips in response, pulling his long silky hair over his right shoulder. I get a good look at his face when he does so. He's got good structure and his eyes are so expressive. He can't be older than twenty-two. He's. . .pretty. Is that the right word? What even is happening to me right now?

"Hey, so are you gonna keep lying to yourself, or are you gonna finish what you started?"

I give him the side-eye but don't respond otherwise.

"You think I don't see you eyin' me? C'mon, I know you want me."

I'm more than a little horrified when he starts to rub my thigh sensually. But I'm not horrified because he's doing it; I'm horrified because my dick fucking loves it. This is madness. I can't let anyone see what's happening. With a growl, I grab this pretty boy's wrist and drag him towards the restroom. Once there, I lock the door behind us and make quick work of my jeans and underwear; Pretty Boy's eyes grow to the size of half-dollars when my rigid erection springs from the confines of my boxers.

"On yer knees," I say, my voice heavy with lust. The blond seems surprised at my tone, but he lowers himself to his knees nonetheless. He stares at my dick, licking his lips. That's when I see that he's got a tongue piercing. He's still staring, and I'm not a very patient dude. "You gon' suck it, or fuckin' stare at it all night?"

He frowns at me, and before I have time to prepare myself, he's got half of my dick in his mouth. I lurch forward, grabbing a handful of that sleek golden hair. I can feel the tongue ring running against my skin and I can't say it's a bad sensation. He hollows his cheeks and starts making those nasty slurping sounds that always drive me crazy. I lean my head back against the wall and curse under my breath. His mouth is so hot and wet, just like a bitch's. So what's the difference between the two? Oh, right. This one's got a motherfucking dick. Funny thing is my dick is still hard.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by him saying something. Damn, who taught him how to talk around the pipe? That takes skills.

"What?" I ask. He pulls away from me, slowly, dragging his tongue up the underside and driving me insane.

"I said fuck my mouth, daddy," he says, and my mouth drops open. I swear to fuck that is the sexiest thing I've ever heard in my life.

"A'ight, but don't choke."

"I don't have a gag reflex, baby."

"Fuckin'. . ."

I put my hand back behind his head, forcing my dick back into his throat. His pretty eyes flutter shut as I move my hips back and forth, thrusting myself inside that pretty mouth. Fuck, this is so damn wrong, but it feels so motherfucking right. I can hear my length hitting the back of his throat, creating this slick squelching noise that's only adding to my arousal. I feel something hitting my leg, so I look down; what the fuck is he doing?

Shit. He's fucking beating his own dick while I'm face-fucking him. Goddamn, how is it possible for someone to be so attractive? I feel heat coiling in my pelvic area and I know I'm almost done.

"I'ma cum," I grumble, and Pretty Boy's eyes slide open, dark with lust. Fuck, I'm done. I try to pull out but he doesn't let me; with a grunt, I bust in his mouth and he takes it. Once I'm done, he pulls away and makes sure I'm looking at him before he tips his head back and swallows. Fuck, I'm dead. I slump down against the wall. I may be done, but Pretty Boy isn't.

I watch as he continues to jerk himself off, with his caramel colored eyes trained on me. Damn, I've never seen something so sexy in my life. His mouth - that pretty ass mouth - is open, as short, labored breaths come out of it, and his lithe body shivers from the effort of holding himself upright. His straight bangs are stuck to his forehead with sweat, while the rest of his silky hair pools around him. God? Are you there? Why did you put this in front of me when you know I'm not ready? I'm really not ready.

A long moan comes from those pretty lips and he jerks forward as cum pours from his dick. It drips down on the floor and trickles down his hand. He's still looking at me as he brings his hand to that pretty mouth and licks it with that talented tongue. I swear to fuck I'm going to die tonight. This is some grade A unfairness.

He fixes his clothes, and I do the same before we both stand up. I find it hard to look at him, so I brush past him, heading for the door.

"Hey, what the fuck?" he calls after me, but I ignore him, unlocking the door and making my way back to the bar. I look around for Grimm, but I don't see him. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see a text from him on the screen:

Take his friend home. I want my money by noon.

Fuckin' a.

Hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for reading :)

Until next time,

Patd06