Quiet main guy with anger issues and a messy past, whole town calling him a killer, comes crawling back home with this crazy mix of guilt and “fuck you all” energy. That’s the mood. You’re not some heroic knight, you’re the dude who got his life ripped apart and now you’re choosing if people get punished, forgiven, or fucked stupid on the way to their doom. Sometimes all three at once. One second you’re watching from the shadows like a creep, peeking through doors, catching your “perfect” milf aunt fingering herself over some drama nonsense, next second you’re deciding if you just watch or walk in, grab her by the hair, and make her choke on your cock while she begs you to forgive the family. The game is very much: “Are you here for justice, or are you here to ruin everyone and cum inside them while they cry?” and the answer is usually yes.

You get this weird mix of romance and pure filth that kinda shouldn’t work, but somehow does. Like, the shy “good girl” who defended you when the others called you a monster? She’s technically off limits, yeah? Childhood crush, still virgin, still looking at you with those soft eyes. You can be gentle, take her first time slow, kiss her forehead, let her ride you while she shakes and clings to you like you’re the only safe thing left in the world. Or you just pin her down, hand over her mouth so the others in the house don’t hear, push into her tight pussy while she whimpers under you, and finish with a deep creampie she didn’t really agree to. The game doesn’t flinch. Sleep sex too, if you’re that kind of bastard: sneaking into her room when she’s out cold, pulling her panties aside, slowly sliding in while she’s half dreaming, half moaning your name, and you’re sitting there deciding if that’s “love” or just you using her like a toy. And yes, it actually animates those moments, hips moving, tits bouncing, your load spilling back out when you’re done. It’s dirty, in a way that feels personal, not just porn noise.

The power stuff hits hard because everyone tried to control you, so now you get to flip it. There are scenes where the same woman that lied about you is on her knees licking your feet, kissing your toes, trying to convince you she’s loyal while you rest your cock on her face like she’s furniture. Sometimes you go full male dom, handprints on asses, spanking until they cry, forcing them to jerk you off with shaky hands, or wrapping their tits around you for a messy titjob that ends all over their face while they call you “sir” with mascara running. Other times, you get trapped in their games. One of the older women can straight up ride your face and balls at the same time, pinning you down, making you cum on command like she’s the judge now, and you’re the poor bastard on trial. There’s even this moment where a woman spits on your cock, strokes you slow with her feet, teasing you for being so easy to control, and you’re just stuck watching your own precum drip on her soles. Interracial stuff shows up too, like the darker-skinned girl who talks big, then melts when you push her against a wall and pump her full, promising you’ll “ruin every hole” next time. And yes, expect spying on showers, catching them touching themselves, ending in more harem chaos than any serious revenge story should have. If you want every spicy scene to actually hit, don’t skip dialog, don’t rush. Let them talk, let the guilt and hate simmer, then when the clothes come off, fuck them like you’re settling an old score, not just clearing a gallery.

This one feels like someone took a horny fashion week, locked it inside a demon brothel and then said “ok, now make it emotional but still fuck a lot.” The House itself is basically a luxury showroom where every corridor feels like a backstage runway right before the models go out, except the models are demons and humans trying to fuck their way to a Hall of Fame. I’m a lingerie designer by job, so I notice stupid things first. The first time you meet one of the girls, the way her outfit tells you exactly who she is before she speaks really hit me. Lace that looks innocent from far, but closer you see it barely hides anything. Straps that look decorative, but they sit exactly where a hand would grab during sex. Superpowers here are not just some menu choice, they feel like extra accessories on a body. Power is styled, not only written. You’re a demon with memories locked away and somehow the story still wants you to care about feelings while also asking you “ok, which pussy do you want tonight?” It should not work, but it kind of does. Or it doesn’t. I can’t decide.

The whole “performer” angle makes the sex feel like a show you’re also directing, not only watching. There’s a moment where one girl is trying so hard to impress you that she holds her pose longer than is actually sexy, like a model freezing for a bad photographer. She keeps her legs open, panting, waiting for your next choice, and there’s this tiny second where you see her doubt slip through the dirty talk. That tiny second is weirdly hotter than the actual vaginal sex that follows. Speaking of that, the game is not shy. Penetration is treated like something serious, not “and then dick goes in, fade to black.” You pick how you approach, how rough, how soft, and her reaction is not just one repeated moan file in your mind. She complains, she teases, she even gets annoyed at you once for stopping halfway and I liked that a lot. No, actually I hated it, because I had to reload to see another option and the menu font is too damn small and now I am angry again. Anyway. The House is all about “who pushes which button” and sometimes that is literal: there are choices that feel like pressing a nipple, or sliding two fingers between lace and skin. The game pretends to care about your mission to save someone important, but every time a girl leans in, whispers in your ear, offers you her throat and her thighs, the whole grand destiny thing disappears like last season’s collection. Which is fine. Or not. I actually forgot to talk about the harem side, but you already know what that means. You start thinking “I’ll stay loyal to this one broken, beautiful demon” and two scenes later you are balls deep in someone else, promising her she is special too. And the thing is, the House believes you. That’s what sticks after closing the tab: all these women styled like living lingerie, each one trying to be your favorite outfit, while you pretend you’re choosing with your heart and not with your cock.

MC drags his ass back from college, broke, horny, kinda full of himself, and walks into this house where everybody pretends nothing is weird while absolutely everything is horny as hell. You’ve seen that whole “landlady and roommates” thing a thousand times, yeah, but here it’s your grandma’s classy friend stealing the spotlight like some milf-gilf hybrid that knows exactly how much power she has over a dumb young guy. She acts all gentle and wholesome, offering tea, asking about your grades, patting your cheek, then a bit longer hand on your shoulder, leaning too close, soft perfume in your face while her tits accidentally press on your arm. That kind of “oops” that is not an oops at all. And the game lives in that slow grind from cozy cuddling on the couch to “oh shit, I’ve got my dick in my grandmother’s friend while everyone else is asleep in the same house”.

What hits different here is how it mixes the cuddly romance vibe with some pretty filthy stuff without even blinking. One moment she’s tucking you in, stroking your hair, you get that sweet almost vanilla kiss, and ten minutes later she’s on her knees doing this lazy, teasing blowjob while scolding you for staring at her big ass every morning. And it keeps going deeper: anal, rimming, spit, sloppy handjobs under a blanket while the TV is on, titjobs where she’s laughing because you finish too fast, then making you do it again. There’s this whole thing with her “training” you, switching between femdom and fake innocence, calling you a good boy then turning around and letting you slam her from behind with this messy creampie that actually matters for the story. Pregnancy hints sneak in, those late-night scenes where she presses your hand against her belly and casually drops “What if I kept your seed inside me?” like that’s just small talk. Add in twins visiting, the neighbor with milf energy, a shy virgin girl from next door, and suddenly you’re juggling a harem where everyone sort of knows something is off but nobody wants to say it out loud. So you get group shower scenes where someone “helps” wash your dick, spanking games in the living room when nobody’s home, cosplay nights where she’s dressed like a strict teacher and you end up licking her pussy clean as punishment, and even weirdly tender footjob moments where she uses her toes and just smiles, telling you to relax. The game goes hard on urination and squirting if you push those paths, the kind of stuff where she sits on your face and just lets go, then acts like it was a totally normal “massage”. You get pegged if you’re into that, or you turn it around and go full maledom, choking and groping, bending her over the kitchen counter while the kettle is still boiling. Somehow, in between all the bdsm gear, toys shoved in all the places, lesbian side fun in the guest room, and her worshiping your cock like it’s some holy relic, it still keeps looping back to this weirdly warm romance where you two cuddle after ruining the sheets and talk about nothing in particular like the whole house isn’t one big slow-burning cheating festival.

College spits you back out, you drag your suitcase up the old familiar stairs, and the first thing that hits you is that weird mix of nostalgia and horny frustration. You’re supposed to be the “grown up” version of yourself now, but the house still smells like coffee, furniture polish and that floral perfume your grandma’s friend wears. She’s the one waiting inside. Not some generic landlady with rented room rules, but this older woman who clearly remembers you as “such a cute kid” and now can’t stop staring at the outline in your jeans when you stretch. The game leans hard into that shift, that strange moment where polite family-adjacent small talk slowly, painfully tilts into something that should probably be illegal in five different ways. It does not rush. It pokes at you. Constantly. Morning wood scenes, shower doors that never really close, “accidental” brushing of her tits against your back when she squeezes behind you in the tiny kitchen. You’re not being told “this is a porn game, go click sex.” You’re stuck in that half-realistic, half-fantasy zone where you creep around the hallway at night, phone screen low, pretending you’re going to the bathroom while you secretly hope to catch her bent over the washing machine again.

What hits hardest is how much of the actual play is just you existing in this cramped domestic space with people who all want something from you. Some want comfort, some want cock, some pretend they don’t want either. You spend a lot of time in small interactions: a hand on your thigh lingering just a bit too long during a movie, toes sliding up your calf under the table, a “help me with this zipper” that clearly doesn’t need help. One scene that stuck with me was when you’re on the couch with her, late, both tipsy, and she falls asleep half on your lap. Your hand ends up resting on her ass almost by accident. You can pull away like a good little boy, or you can let your fingers sink in a bit, feel that heavy warmth, smell her skin. If you push your luck she doesn’t jump, she sighs, like she’s been waiting for this exact mistake. It’s slow burn, but when it finally snaps, the game is not shy. You go from stolen glances to her on her knees, spit on your cock, mumbling how long she waited to taste you. There’s worship here, a lot of it. Your body is treated like a toy and a shrine at the same time: cock kissing, balls cradled, her laughing while she edges you with lazy strokes and then scolding you for almost cumming on her face without permission. At some point you realize half the house has their own angle on you, from the sweet virgin type who just wants cuddles and suddenly finds herself riding you until she squirts on your stomach, to the pushy one who uses your face like a seat and then pretends it never happened at breakfast. There is some goofy stuff too, like a cosplay night that starts as a silly joke and ends with you in handcuffs, her in a way-too-tight outfit, using a toy on herself while you’re forced to watch until she lets you join. The writing swings between affectionate and filthy in a way that feels messy, a bit clumsy, but honest. Sometimes the pacing drags and you’ll click through way too many “good morning” scenes for one butt squeeze, and a couple of side characters feel like they exist only to feed your dick without much personality. But then there is this tiny quiet moment where one of them curls up against your chest after a crazy group scene, tracing circles on your skin, whispering that she hopes you don’t leave again, and you realize the game is not only about fucking every hole in reach. It pretends to be just cheap smut, then throws in pregnancy talks, jealousy, cheating, a weirdly wholesome cuddle after you have her bent over the sink for anal. It’s messy, horny, a bit wrong, and strangely cozy in a way that will probably say something about your brain you didn’t want to know.