fact or fiction
Learn the truth about common myths. Are they fact or fiction? In-depth explanations of the questions everyone asks and few know the answer to.
OMG, How Did I End Up There?. Content Warning.
I never thought I’d write this down, but after what happened last night, I can’t keep it inside anymore. My name’s Jess, I’m 24, and I live in this cramped two-bedroom apartment with my stepdad, Mark. He’s 48, built like a guy who still works construction even though he runs his own small contracting business now. Mom left when I was 17, and it’s just been us ever since. People always said we were too close, but they didn’t know the half of it.
By Chahat Kaurabout 3 hours ago in Filthy
Stranger In The Rain. Content Warning.
I never planned for it to happen. Not like that. Not with a complete stranger whose name I still don’t know. My name is Lila. I’m twenty-three, a freelance graphic designer who works from coffee shops and the tiny studio apartment I rent in downtown Seattle. That Friday night I’d been out with friends at a rooftop bar in Capitol Hill—laughing too loud, drinking tequila sunrises that tasted like summer and bad decisions. Around eleven the rain started, the kind that comes down in sheets and turns the city into a neon blur. Everyone else called Ubers and scattered. I stayed a little longer, chasing the buzz, until the bar kicked us out at closing.
By Chahat Kaurabout 4 hours ago in Filthy
Homecoming
The thing about a beach house is that you can smell the ocean even if you're far from it. It's funny seeing the leaves in the trees blow in the same wind that brings the smell of salt over to me. Before smelling the salt, I could pretend I was back on the opposite coast, living with roommates, not parents.
By Mary Magenta5 days ago in Filthy
The Can Can Girls
The Can Can Girls I remember that night clear as anything, not because it was grand, but because of the stir it caused, the kind that settled in a room and would not leave, no matter how people tried to laugh it off. The place was packed tight, chairs scraping, voices loud, smoke hanging low, and pints lined up like they meant business, every man already half gone before anything had even begun.
By George’s Girl 2026 12 days ago in Filthy
How Nervousness and Fear Affect Orgasms. AI-Generated.
It’s not something most people talk about openly, but emotional states—especially nervousness and fear—can have a powerful and sometimes surprising impact on sexual experiences, including orgasms. While we often think of arousal and climax as purely physical processes, they are deeply intertwined with the brain, emotions, and the body’s stress response. Understanding how fear and nervousness influence orgasms can help people better navigate their own experiences and improve both comfort and satisfaction.
By Timothy A Rowland16 days ago in Filthy
My Furry Yaoi Manga is out
I am happy to say my Manga is finally out; it is a milestone in my life, but as a first-time author trying to promote my first-ever published book, it is a lot harder than it looks. Sure, you can Google the how, the what, and the dos and don’ts. How many out there are having trouble selling your books? Well, I am writing this blog to tell you about my book and why I think you’ll enjoy it.
By stephanie borges2 months ago in Filthy
Queen's Knight
What I noticed most was the way his fingers held the microphone before he spoke. It was a firm grip, and he placed it into the position that he wanted without hesitation. After that, when his hands moved, I was captivated by his caressing of the notebook pages when he recited his poetry. Then his fingertips stroked the paper, and I caught my breath. No, no, he wasn't caressing them, I imagined it, wanted to think of him gently touching...me. Now, all four fingers on the mic stand, slightly splayed, his entire hand visible. Strong hands, and I knew he was speaking, pouring words over the audience, yet all I could see and feel was his hands. My own hand had been barely resting against my throat, and dropped to the front of my blouse, my thumb grazing my erect nipple. I bit back the moan, and held my breath, and his gaze rested on me as he ended the second poem. His face lit up, and he strode towards me, never breaking eye contact. My heart hammered, and I felt a rush of arousal when I saw the way he looked at me. The vibe washed over me like a tidal wave, but I told myself I must be projecting. I must. “You came,” he said, “just as you said you would.”
By LP Steinbeck4 months ago in Filthy
Humiliation Made Me Submissive . Content Warning.
October 28th (Later) The party was a dying animal. Its pulse, the music, had slowed to a thrumming, melancholic love song from a decade ago. The roar of a hundred conversations had dwindled to the low murmur of the last few stragglers, the clinking of bottles collected by the help, the weary groans of furniture being shifted. The air in the main hall was stale, a graveyard of spilled drinks, shattered papadum, and exhausted perfume.
By Chahat Kaur6 months ago in Filthy
