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Niamh McGonnell-Hall takes you through a library of erotic reads.  Please note that this article contains mature themes (and some slight spoilers!) There is a quote by some iconic person that states, “I don’t watch porn, I read it like a fucking lady.” Not saying there’s anything undignified about watching porn, but why not stimulate both your eyes and your imagination by doing both.  But first, let's get something out of the way. Smut books are a tricky topic. Between the fe

In unfortunate news, Nic’s Flix has officially been retired from Grapeshot as the legendary Nic Chang has now graduated. (RIP Nic Chang, not dead, just in a worse place (aka, no Grapey).) In good news, the movie reviews GO ON! Editor-in-Chief, Beth Nicholls (aka a certified nerd), reviews one of the latest superhero movies to hit our screens: Superman.  Look, everyone surely knows the barebone plot of Superman , however, I am giving  spoiler warnings for Superman (2025)  beca

Back To Black - Amy Winehouse So Damn Dangerous - Dea Matrona Froot - MARINA obsessed - Olivia Rodrigo Red Wine Supernova - Chappell Roan Crushing - Eartheater Messages From Her - Sabrina Claudio Siren - Kailee Morgue Breakfast - Dove Cameron Closer - Nine Inch Nails Angel - Massive Attack, Horace Andy Glory box - Portishead obsessed - zandros, Limi Sujo - Mike Taveira the boy is mine - Ariana Grande Eden - Daniel Seavey Drums of Death - FKA twigs, Koreless To The Bone - Bomb

Editorial Assistant Amy Condren opens the window on the emotional KPIs of dating down under There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but I have an attitude problem. I will be the first to admit it. Dating apps always make me feel like The Company (me) is having a flash sale and I am the head of the marketing department. Picture me, the office siren reclining on a jagged rock, jutting up from the depths of the roiling sea:  Mermaid Tail: silver (obviously)  Hair: long, dark and a li

Editorial Assistant Daniela De Vera remembers the Pied Piper when talking about the exaggerated promotion of over-sexualisation and commodification of women online.  Remember the Pied Piper? Leading 130 children away from their homes due to the lack of payment for his services? There is no Pied Piper in the 21st century, although there is one that may be of close relation to it. I believe there is a fine line between automatising your sexuality to promote liberation and femin

Editorial Assistant Bethany Sharman humorously critiques the cries of sailors disappointed by “mid” sirens.  After a near-death encounter with a siren on Tuesday, a local sailor reportedly took to social media to share his account of the traumatic experience. He briefly detailed that the alluring siren song he was promised turned out to be nothing better than a regurgitation of “the usual junk” typically heard on the radio – commercial music he claimed was so overdone it “alm

Editorial Assistant and Illustrator Katrina Wang muses on the murky myth of the siren. The myth of the siren is often confused with that of the mermaid. Like all myths, there are varying sources and alterations to a main narrative, a shaping by many voices and hands. In this case, the main theme that defines a siren as a siren is its hypnotic voice, a single note that may be the end of your fate. Whereas now, where we only see female sirens, some of the earliest depictions in

Through fog and mist, Deputy Editor-in-Chief Kayleigh Greig voyages to the shore, guided by her siren song.  Our friendship glided like a ship into mist: from somewhere clear, defined, but with the vague sense of something new looming in the distance, to a world of fog, obscurity, and confusion. It was exciting, beautiful, but haunting. My moments turned into flashes and feelings in the dark: hands brushing, the glimpse of a smile, the warmth of your head on my shoulder, the

Contributor Roger Luthford tells the tale of a relentless siren, her powerful waves tamed by the watchful gaze of the moon high above.   The lurch of the mind is a curious one. It wanders into ideas that do not prove useful for the mind's survival in a perilous world. Much like the tide is subject to the Moon's sway and motion, so is our perspective. This lurch alters our perspective, to see the worst in what is done, to fear the life around you so that you may protect your o

Join one of our Marketing Assistants on a reflective journey as they unravel the intricate web of love and desire. I would have stayed there forever, if you'd allowed me to. Tracing infinity signs along the curve of your shoulder blade as the morning light turned your olive skin to honey...gazing at the future as if it wore your face...loving you when I had the words to express it, and even more so when I lacked them.  Death would have claimed me before my love for you waned,

I miss an older time  When sex wasn’t drowning or suffocating  It was young and innocent and sweet  Not the burning of salt going down ur throat  and filling ur lungs  Filling the emptiness  Dragging you  Down  Down  Down  Love was a sand castle,  Fragile, but high up on the safety  of the dunes away from the crushing waves.  Now it’s hungry and vicious    Lulled over by a siren’s sweet song  and sweet nothings Love was soft, like warm dry sand that you  would pic

The turn of my shoulders. The water filling me. You saw me by the door, coyness embodied.  Damp curls and eager sweat. A smile snagged on my lips from a day of waiting, my skin warm like a stone under sun  for you. Beckoned by your shadow, I approached. The door closed and the light faded as I willed myself to you. In your memory it is so. It has to be so. The countless sculptures and shrines in my name were founded on your vision after all, the sprawling city fuelled  by you

Blood-stained tears A non-consensual act Leaving her brandishing a new body The siren sounded when his hands touched her Now The siren keeps him away Waves of trauma and paranoia Forever haunting her It wasn’t her fault To be preyed on twice Makes her more aware That the siren is there This filthy act Made her isolate and void  Not once, but twice A private room And A restraining order Talking about it hurts too much But maybe Talking about it will prevent it  The siren sound

read me like a fine print like my body hid a clause you hadn't noticed before look through me unfeelingly past pleading eyes and hands bloodied from holding you even as you beg to go but unravel my womanhood before you leave reduce me to my womb a name never to be passed down measure my worth  in futures i cant carry render me nothing but an empty  vessel for your dreams love me, like a seed loves the soil— only if it promises to bloom. love me, until my body can't  bear your

tossed watercress hair   eyes of aquamarine salt-licked skin bloodless lips ocean ghoul, what would you give to be human? you are everything  i should have imagined you cannot have me so far from home She pulses at your hips rough and hateful, gentle when you deserve it.  will you ever deserve it? you try to be kind, but you never learnt the word  the salt stings like hell when you press your self against mine the waves thrash and froth against your back my hands pull away pe

You have seen me before,  and you will see me again. Me, with my dirty hands, and you, with yours clean. Lady Ligeia, I’ll rise  And as a shadow, depart— jagged and breathless, exploding through the night. Now, I wait— eyes wide, claws sheathed, my red mouth wet and skin soft like teeth. But one day,  my wings will grow, and it’s you that I’ll find and swallow whole.

(originally published on medium on 30/10/24, rewritten for Grapeshot) i knew you the moment i saw you. the light in your eyes, the pulse in your veins, the skin of your stomach... you were not my first, but with each bite, i want you to be my last. your flavour is sweeter than anything i’ve tasted —  juicier, softer, warmer. suffocation does not stop those who truly desire, the hunger grows and growls and waits and prowls. i could eat you until i was full and then eat you som

16th November 1903 Jamie stared out into the distance, hearing the familiar sound of harsh waves crashing against the cliff face. He sat back in his chair, feeling the wind slowly pick up speed. The weather was getting worse this time of year, and it was only a matter of time before his final shipment would arrive. 433 cans — enough to last him a few months. No sailor in his right mind would come near Bell’s Island if they could avoid it. A sharp gust of wind sent a chill thr

Please be aware that this piece contains references to assault It was coarse and rough on the beach  But softer than you You were tailing Voice drowned by the waves For the ocean is a woman's domain The wave swallowed Me whole, along with you The unwelcome grain in the oyster An abrasive force that hums That there would be no pretty pearl without it Just us, it would seem Till the tide draws in and the hands begin To claw at my back No, they claw at you back  For me, whilst a

It is our last day before you go on holiday to Europe,  And we spent it with friends, wandering along the beach. We threw stones until my shoulder hurt, and  Then I picked up pretty ones to offer you (and our friends, because I can’t give the game away). How like the sky you are, changeable and free.  You are a wild thing  I wish to bottle and preserve In a poem. I don’t think I can,  But thank you for playing along,  I think.  The clouds are pale and scratched onto the blue

Moonlight seeps into the mist, illuminating droplets into an ethereal haze. A single tendril curls toward the rusted wheel. It begins to spin. Twelve long poles radiate from its centre, each crowned with a seat wide enough for two. The abandoned Ferris wheel goes around and around, purposeless in its emptiness.  The forgotten festival awakens. Lights spark one by one, glowing golden in the glass cages of pathway lamps, studding the structures of rides stirring from slumber a

The old skeleton grins at me, Missing teeth, I pulled a few for a keepsake.  There is a thrill in the air during war  Like that final moment in our consummation,  An all-out orgasmic ritual feeling  As the whole world shakes, and you remain. I dream of you, at night, during the day Sometimes I fuck my fist to the thought Of your soft hair, bright eyes, that moonlit skin, Christ.  If I had a choice, I’d come home now And hold you, entwined with you, Until I die.  The skeleton

Femme Fatale need not be introduced.  They’ve had her since they could                                                                           pin                                                                                 her                                                                                         down   with their reed-pens.   But do they know Masc Fatale? Where were you in the history books?  Making me s w o o n in your men’s-section slacks and secondh

Once upon a time, there was a little mermaid who was as beautiful as she was deadly. She had unnaturally long fingers and elongated fangs, her hair was as soft as seaweed and she grew scales on her skin. Today was feasting day and the little mermaid and her serpent sisters swam towards the shore to devour the warm blood of mankind.  They swam to where the water heated from the sun, and the sound of children’s laughter gurgled from the shore.  The sisters split and began to si