Smut

Where did you get that book? You shouldn't be reading such filthy smut.

The site is completely open to additions and corrections, twenty-four hours a day, but that means it's wide open to ideologues and vandals who deliberately post false information, unfounded accusations, and smut.

No one ever said smut was unprofitable.

She reached it soon after half-past two. She found its gloomy nineteenth-century façade, black with the smuts of ninety years, a little daunting, and mounted its broad steps in some trepidation. But she rang the bell hard and knocked firmly.

“You can rely on me!” Varya said, still more earnestly and enthusiastically, still leaning heavily on the counter, noticing briefly and forgetting at once that her bare elbow had crushed a stray smut from the Primus mender's booth.

“Do I have a smut on my nose, Mr. Donovan? You've been staring at me for a full minute. It's most disconcerting, you know.”

The semiology of smut remains fairly unchanging: pasties, thongs, fetishwear-lite, simulated masturbation with the most unlikely of objects.

It is no use to say, well, your anthrostate requires smut to be shielded, but your neighbor’s antrhostate^([sic]) says he can show anything anywhere. The neighbor’s behavior affects you, so you have to have the same rules.

He does not stand upon decency […] but will talk smut, though a priest and his mother be in the room.

If the petals of your garden dianthus (pinks) are stained brown, they too are victims of similar smut.