Mythos feels like somebody smashed together a late night crime podcast, a horny anime parody and that weird urban legend subreddit you scroll on your phone when you should be sleeping, then sprinkled way too many tits on top and said “yeah, this is fine”. You pick if you’re playing as a guy or a girl right at the start, and it actually matters, not just in “pronoun changed, congrats” way. Some scenes twist a bit depending on your body, who stares at you, who you can seduce, whose hand “accidentally” lands on your ass in the train when the lights flicker and the supernatural stuff leaks through. There is this first big moment where you’re at Lisa’s memorial, staring at a photo of your ex who got murdered in some fucked up way nobody wants to explain, and two completely different types of people hit on you almost at the same time: a smug cop with that “I’m totally abusing my badge” vibe, and this soft spoken girl with huge tits spilling out of a tight uniform that should absolutely not be legal in a public place. The game doesn’t stop to tell you “this is a choice”. It just lets you go horny detective or horny victim or both and quietly tracks who you want to bend you over later.

Sex is not just “reward unlocked, here’s generic bouncing”. You’re running around this fake-modern city where vampires are landlords, tentacle things hang out in dark alleys like drunk ninjas and one busty elf professor keeps “tutoring” you after class, squeezing your thigh while talking about mythology like she isn’t about to slide under the desk and wrap her lips around you. There is a scene at a cheap business hotel during a “vacation” that is not really a vacation. You’re supposed to investigate, but instead you spend half the night pinned against the balcony railing by a frustrated MILF who is technically someone’s wife and technically not human and technically doesn’t give a fuck. She rides you slow while the neon signs below blink and you can choose if you pull out or let her take every drop and feel that messy creampie drip down her inner thighs while she laughs and calls you a good little snack. Later the same day, basically in the same clothes, the story casually throws you into this awful netorare-ish angle where you watch through a half open door as a different woman you got close to is getting pounded by some supernatural asshole with a cock way bigger than yours. The game lets you peek, or walk away, or join and turn it into harem chaos. If you stay hidden, you see her begging for more, getting titfucked until her face is glazed and you can’t decide if you hate her, hate yourself, or just want in. And that mood, that messy mix of comedy, jealousy, horror and “fuck it, let’s suck his balls too”, that’s pretty much Mythos all the way through, jumping between murder clues, meme jokes, romance sweetness, corruption temptations and stupidly hot tentacle scenes in the dark where you swear you’re still solving a case while something slimy is filling your ass and your mouth at the same time.

A husband, a stupid fight, and that sick feeling in your gut when you suddenly notice how short your own shadow looks next to another guy’s. That is basically where this story sits, grinning at you. You follow this poor bastard of a husband who starts the evening thinking he is “the man of the house” and ends up wondering if his wife is getting her pussy filled by somebody taller, thicker, and a lot more confident. The game plays like a teasing lecture about NTR, but not in a cold way. It is like a drunk friend whispering in your ear, “You see that guy talking to your wife? Yeah, that is how it starts.” The visuals sell that uneasy vibe: soft, slow camera-like cuts, those slightly too-long pauses on her lips when she smiles at someone else, her shirt clinging in all the right places, and his eyes squinting like he is trying not to imagine her on her knees, drool on another man’s shaft. The pace is not rushed, it pokes you. You get moments where almost nothing “big” happens, just small looks, off-hand comments, her phone lighting up with a message while she is in the shower and you are left staring at the screen, imagining every filthy word she might be reading.

There is a strong “PSA from hell” vibe, yeah, like some horny officer in a police comedy explaining step by step how your wife goes from “I would never cheat” to getting her ass slapped by a stranger in some cheap hotel on vacation. The husband is technically the male protagonist, but it never really feels like you are in control. You are more like a ghost stuck in his skull, dragged through his jealousy, his twisted fantasies, his humiliation. One scene that hit hard: he is sitting on the bed, replaying his argument with his wife, and his brain starts playing its own porn parody. Suddenly she is there in his mind, bent over the kitchen counter, big tits pressed on the cold surface, some smug bastard gripping her hips while she moans his name instead. The sounds get louder than his own thoughts. Little sticky lip noises, wet slaps, her breathy “harder” that he is not sure she ever said to him in real life. The game leans into that: you never know where reality stops and his corrupted imagination starts. Sometimes you see Sara in normal everyday clothes, then next transition she is in a tight uniform, unbuttoned just enough, or a cheap lingerie set that looks like it was bought for someone else’s eyes. You get flashes of oral, her cheeks hollowed around a thick cock, but it cuts away too soon, almost mocking you. And in the middle of all this, the tone suddenly slides into this weird humor, like a wink to those who know Konosuba jokes and tentacle memes, like the narrator is some half-drunk wiz giving you “NTR survival tips” while the real lesson is just: if you feel it happening, it probably started a long time ago, back when you ignored how she smiled at her “friend” a little too much. The game never holds your hand. It kind of laughs while you squirm.

Natsuki really should stop going on vacation. Every time this woman leaves her house, someone ends up buried deep inside her who is not her husband, and honestly, I respect the commitment to bad choices. This time it is supposed to be a fancy hotel date with Yoshihiko, grown up, classy, proper married couple stuff. Champagne, soft music, the kind of evening you post to Instagram with some fake quote about everlasting love, you know? Then they get shuffled into sharing a table with Tatsuki, this rich old gentleman with that polite smile that screams "I have ruined plenty of marriages and slept just fine after." The story just quietly slides from warm romance into that queasy, horny territory where you already know everything is about to go wrong, you just do not know how fast. Half the erotic tension is in the way the game makes you sit through all the little social details: knees brushing under the table, wine being poured a little too slowly, his hand resting a bit too near her thigh. It is not subtle, but in that good trashy drama way. Like watching a cheating wife JAV you know is scripted, but still yelling at the screen, "Girl, you are not coming back from this."

The game hits that sweet, nasty spot where you are not just watching Natsuki get corrupted, you are basically helping gravity pull her panties down. She sits there in her pretty wife uniform, acting polite, blushing when Tatsuki leans in too close, pretending to be shocked when his hand creeps up her leg under the tablecloth. And you get stuck in this loop of small choices, not big cinematic ones. Let her pull away, or let her freeze for a second longer. Let her pretend she did not notice his fingers brushing her inner thigh. Let her excuse herself to the bathroom, where of course the "gentleman" just happens to follow and pin her softly to the wall, whispering about how she tasted that summer, like he is remembering a favorite dessert instead of someone else’s wife. It is cruel in that slow way, where her wedding ring is always right there in the frame while she is getting her mouth stuffed or her legs pushed apart. She gives these little protests, especially at first, all "we cannot, I am married now, I love Yoshi" while her body is already grinding on his cock, her breasts bouncing out of her dress, nipples slipping free. There is one scene at the hotel room door that almost broke me: she tries to go back to her faithful husband, eyes wet, then turns around and walks back down the hall to Tatsuki’s room instead, like her feet just betrayed her. No big speech, no huge drama, just a quiet, horny surrender. Next shot, she is on all fours on his bed, ass up, wedding ring shining while he pumps her full and she moans his name instead of "husband." It is mean. It is hot. It is that kind of story where the second time she cheats feels worse and better at the same time, and you sit there, lonely, clicking through it all on your phone and wondering why fictional people get more intense sex than you ever did.