The heat sits on that tiny apartment like a wet towel you can’t shake off. It sticks to skin, to clothes, to Rei’s thin tank top when she bends over the sink, pretending she doesn’t feel your eyes on her ass. She’s supposed to be “aunt,” or “family friend,” or whatever label makes it less fucked up that every time she passes in the hallway your cock twitches. She moves slow, tired housewife kind of slow, but every curve on her body screams she knows exactly what she’s doing. Soft big tits that fight against cheap fabric, hips that fill the doorway, that slightly sad smile of a woman who’s been lonely way too long and pretends she’s okay with it. Except she isn’t. Not really.

Then the old man shows up. Claims to be your grandfather. Smells like cigarettes and sweat and something rotten. Sets his suitcase down like he just decided this is his house now. You want to laugh, but Rei’s face drains of color and Sora’s eyes narrow like a cat that spots a mouse. She’s the daughter, sharp tongue and short shorts, always with a game console in hand, pretending she doesn’t notice how her mom starts flinching whenever the old bastard “accidentally” brushes against her. You watch from the crack in your door as he starts touching Rei longer than needed, his wrinkled fingers on her waist, on her ass, talking about “helping with stress.” At first she stiffens, then she forces a smile, then she starts making excuses to be alone with him. For “adult talk.” You know that tone. Corruption doesn’t happen in one big step; it happens cup of tea by cup of tea, “thank you” by “it’s fine, just this once.”

The fucked up part is how the game lets you poke at this situation, not like a hero, but like a horny parasite. You’re not stopping anything. You’re deciding how much you want to see. You can sneak to the bathroom door and hear Rei choking on something that is not a cough. The wet noise of forced oral turning into desperate, hungry sucking, where her gagging shifts into little muffled moans she would never admit are real. Or you stay “loyal” and still end up spying through keyholes while she rides that old bastard, her big ass bouncing on his lap, tears in her eyes but her pussy creaming around him like it belongs there. Sometimes she resists and then folds, sometimes she looks like she’s almost enjoying the rough grip on her hair, the way he talks to her like property. Sometimes you even get pulled in, not as savior but as another man claiming a piece of her, sliding into her raw and leaving your cum deep inside, while her womb already full of someone else’s seed. Interracial mix of bodies and age and power, all wrapped in that cramped apartment where walls are thin and secrets thinner.

Sora’s the little devil in the corner, seeing everything, pretending she doesn’t care. She catches you peeking once, smirks, and the next time she “borrows” the old man’s wallet she demands he plays along. Trading games is not about consoles anymore. She comes back to your room with flushed cheeks and messed hair, chewing on gum that wasn’t hers before, and throws a wrapped bill on your bed like a joke. She teases you, spreads her legs just a bit too far when she sits on your chair, talks about how “grandpa” is disgusting while her eyes sparkle with something way darker. If you push, she might open those legs more, might ask what you’d pay for a peek, or for a taste, or for the chance to paint her face white while her mom moans in the next room on someone else’s cock. This whole summer turns into a slow, sweaty spiral where ownership is just a word men use when they shove their dick somewhere and leave it dripping. Who gets Rei in the end, who marks her womb, who Sora decides to toy with, who really controls the house… that all comes down to the tiny choices you click while your hand is already around your shaft, trying to decide if you want to feel guilty or just enjoy watching everything good rot from inside.

Diamond Memories is one of those messy, horny school VNs where you start thinking “ok, this is just boobs and jokes”, and then somehow you’re three scenes later watching a girl you actually like sucking off some random guy in a filthy alley behind the karaoke bar while her phone lights up with messages from her clueless boyfriend. The tone whiplash is kind of the charm. One minute you get goofy banter about exams and uniforms, next minute you’re staring at an AI-generated CG of a girl with huge tits kneeling between the thighs of a dude twice her size, her mascara running and her hand “accidentally” wrapped around a second cock coming in from the side. The art has that slightly uncanny AI thing going on if you zoom too much, but honestly it works for this. It feels like stolen porn pics mixed into a VN, which is funny and also kinda sleazy in the right way. Text is where it sells the scenes anyway. They actually let the teasing breathe: the slow hand sliding under the desk, the first time a shy girl gets groped on a crowded bus and freezes, then presses her thighs together instead of moving away. It’s not subtle, but the pacing of corruption is better than in half the “serious” NTR games on F95.

What I really liked is the multiple protagonist angle. You bounce around the four girls, and sometimes you realize only later that the guy who was so “nice” in one route is the same asshole lining up a cheap group sex deal with her behind her back in another. There is a school setting, yeah, but the story spends more time outside than I expected: cheap hotels, love hotels, back seats, the usual. One girl’s arc goes from innocent masturbation in her room, trying to copy what she watched on some shitty Pornhub clone, to doing a paid titfuck for an older man she met in a chat app. The shift is believable enough that it stings a bit, especially if you played her “pure” path first. Humor is just dirty and juvenile in a good way. Characters crack jokes about interracial porn tags, the size difference, even the fact that one guy is clearly modeled after those meme stepbro actors. And then that same scene turns halfway serious when she realizes she kind of likes having two cocks fighting for the inside of her mouth. If you came for romantic VN fluff, you picked the wrong door. Cheating is not a side flavor here, it’s practically the main meal. There are moments where the boyfriend is just a text bubble on the screen, sending heart emojis, while the girl is pinned against a locker getting fucked raw, trying not to moan too loud. The game doesn’t pretend it’s “morally complicated”, it just lets shit happen and you sit there with your dick in your hand feeling way more conflicted than the characters. I wish the UI for choosing scenes was less clunky, but whatever, I keep going back to that one classroom blowjob scene where the teacher almost walks in and she pulls off his cock at the last second, cum splashing on her notebook with her math homework. I still laugh at that. And yeah, it stains the page and the next time you see the notebook, it’s still there. Little detail, totally unnecessary, but that’s the kind of thing that makes this whole trashy package stick in your head.

Void Club looks like something tossed together by a horny accountant who got bored in Excel and accidentally created a brothel in space, and I kinda respect that. You’re just this dude, “manager”, trying to keep a weird multidimensional strip club from going broke while a crazy Master drags more girls from random universes into your lap. One moment you’re checking numbers, next moment there’s a stacked alien milf with glowing eyes in your office, asking where she has to stand so customers can drool on her tits. It’s this mix of menu clicking and “oops I’m fucking her on the couch instead of adjusting prices” that makes the whole thing feel like a porn version of those idle mobile management games I pretend I don’t play on the toilet. Honestly it’s like using Google Sheets, but your reward is a creampie instead of a chart.

The game really pushes that “club manager who can’t keep his dick in his pants” vibe. You look at girl stats, set them to work, watch the cash crawl up, and in between you’re calling them to private rooms and deciding if you just grope their ass or go straight to throat-fucking. Some scenes are surprisingly soft, like slow teasing, sucking, the girl blushing while you finger her under the desk. Then suddenly there’s a monster girl with horns riding you like she’s trying to crush your pelvis, and you’re thinking “yeah ok, I guess HR doesn’t exist in this universe.” The sleep sex parts are fucked up in a way that fans of darker stuff will enjoy: sneaking into a girl’s room after closing time, her breathing slow, panties half off, you sliding in while she moans in her sleep and doesn’t fully wake. The game doesn’t moralize it, it just goes “here, you wanted this” and lets you nut in a passed-out babe. Felt wrong, kept doing it anyway. Also there’s group scenes where you line up girls like a buffet, switch holes, watch cum drip while your money counter still sits there like it’s totally normal.

Management side is simple, but it scratches that brain itch. You look at demand, throw different girls at different jobs, tweak prices a little, and slowly the club stops being a dump. Sometimes you’re forced to actually think, like “do I send the thick milf with big tits to VIP and keep her for my own cock later, or make her grind at the bar to pull in more clients?” Of course, I clicked “keep her for myself” way more than I should, then wondered why my balance was trash. There is this annoying thing where you feel like you’re stuck waiting for enough cash to unlock stuff, and at some point I tabbed out, opened Telegram, answered messages, scrolled TikTok, then tabbed back and nothing really changed except one new scene. But when the new girls show up through that void gate, it feels kinda fun, like gacha, only instead of a cute PNG you get a monster girl sitting on your face. The animation is janky at times, but honestly I liked it more because of that. It feels dirty, like something you’d hide between 50 Chrome tabs. Had one moment where I was juggling three girls in the roster, checking who is tired, who needs a break, then somehow I ended up watching the milf give sloppy wet head on a couch while another girl pretended to clean tables behind us. That mix of fake “work” and porn made me feel like I was managing a very stupid but very hot little universe. And yeah, some UIs pissed me off, one button is just slightly off to the side and I kept misclicking it and starting the wrong event, but whatever, I still stayed long enough to breed half the staff.

Epifania looks like some luxury fashion week gone rotten in the sexiest way. Neon on wet concrete, everyone pretending to be high class while they’re literally lining up for a hole in the wall. You arrive as this nobody with big hunger and zero connections, just you and this building that looks like an abandoned outlet store someone forgot to bulldoze. Then that Devil Investor shows up, all smug and perfectly dressed, like the kind of client who sits front row at a fetish runway show and buys the entire collection with one bored click. She doesn’t ask if you want in. She just throws you the mission: turn this wreck into the most profitable and depraved brothel in the city. And suddenly you’re balancing spreadsheets and cumshots in the same breath, which, honestly, feels familiar to anyone who tried to run an Etsy store while doomscrolling Pornhub.

First thing that caught my designer brain: the girls are not copy-paste dolls. You start “training” them and it feels weirdly like fitting models for a very, very illegal lingerie line. You watch them change from shy little things clinging to basic underwear into total predators who know exactly how to use lace, heels, and a dripping mouth. Some are sweet mom-types with soft tummies and milk-heavy breasts, the kind you’d shoot for an expensive maternity fetish catalog. You push them into public booths where strangers use them like shared accessories. That whole gloryhole section? It’s like designing a collection where the face is irrelevant, only the silhouette of thighs and tits matters. I hated how it turned me on. I loved how it turned me on. It’s messy like that. One night I focused on a single “pure” girl, double-checking her stats on my phone between Instagram stories, trying to keep her first time special then casually booking her into a gangbang room right after because the numbers looked good. The game doesn’t guilt-trip you. It just quietly asks: more clients or more conscience? And you already know the answer, you capitalist slut.

The management part is sneaky. You think it’s just clicking upgrades, then you realize you’re planning who gets which kink like you’re coordinating outfits for a runway lineup: anal queen here, bondage star there, the tall milf with heavy lactation in the VIP lounge that smells like perfume and sweat. There’s this weird thrill watching your building go from dusty warehouse to multi-floor pleasure machine, with private rooms, voyeur windows, and that one office where you handle “contracts” with potential corporate partners who want their own harem branch. I kept pausing, thinking how I’d design actual lingerie sets for them: soft leather harnesses for the submissive accountant type, transparent body stocking for the market manipulator who ruins competitors while taking a footjob on her desk. At one point I was negotiating prices for public use sessions on one screen and sketching a crotchless bodysuit in Procreate on the other, and it all just blended. The game lets you push the girls into pregnancy deals like they’re limited edition drops, fill them up, send them back out, watch clients line up for that. It’s fucked up. It’s hot. I still wish the interface didn’t hide some details in tiny menus like some cheap fast-fashion site, but then I catch myself zooming in on a courtesan getting her ass filled and I forget what I was annoyed about. Anyway, the city doesn’t care. You start with nothing, you end with a building full of moaning, swollen, used bodies and a bank account that keeps climbing every time someone walks through your doors. It feels like running a fashion brand where the models never leave the show, they just keep getting fucked harder behind the curtain.