Kate Adler looks like the kind of woman you cross the street for, not because she’s scary, but because you know she’d read every dirty thought in your head and file it away like evidence. The game just throws you into this huge, sweaty, sleepless city where everything feels a bit wrong, like the whole place smells of perfume, gun oil and cheap disinfectant. One second you’re zooming in on some grainy club camera feed, trying to match faces, and two clicks later you’re watching that same guy rail some VIP slut in a back room while Kate acts all professional and still clearly getting turned on. She pretends she doesn’t care, you don’t pretend anything. The whole thing plays like a visual novel that forgot how to be polite. You bounce between interrogations, tailing people, reading all these messages full of lies, and then suddenly you’re choosing if Kate lets someone bend her over a balcony in those stupidly tight jeans. The pacing is weird in a good way. Some scenes are slow, like late night Netflix scrolling where you tell yourself “just one more,” then out of nowhere the story slaps you with missing girls, fake passports, and this high-society sex club that tries way too hard to look exclusive and ends up feeling like a horny IKEA maze.

Nocturne, that club, is where the game really starts being nasty. You get those masked rich assholes, dancers in latex, people pretending they’re not scared, and Kate walking in like she owns the place even though she’s basically spying. There’s this moment where she’s in a private room, supposedly just listening to two big shots talk business, and the dialogue quietly shifts from blackmail to who they’ve had in chains last weekend. You get the choice to keep the audio clean or push her into “deeper cover” and yeah, if you pick the second one she ends up on her knees, using sex as a tool and also clearly liking it. I loved that scene and kinda hated it, because the game gives you the power and then rubs your face in what you used it for. Also the UI text for the clues is tiny in some menus and it pissed me off for no reason and then I forgot about it five minutes later when she got her ass fingered in the backseat of a town car while pumping a politician for information. Sometimes the writing hits hard, like when she’s alone on a rooftop, tired, trying to connect dates and names, and her phone buzzes with some slutty offer to “come relax” at the club again. Other times it throws in jokes that land like a wet sock. Doesn’t even matter. The city feels alive in that broken, horny way where every neon sign hides a camera and every secret costs either money, blood, or Kate’s pussy. You jump from glossy penthouse to damp tunnel to cramped office with an evidence board, and it never fully explains things, just trusts you to click, read, decide who she fucks, who she betrays, and how deep she lets that corruption crawl into her body and her brain. Dare to play it alone, or invite company?

Behind every perfectly trimmed lawn lies a perfectly hidden crime. In the visual novel "CRIME LAWN REPEAT", you dive into a world of suburban secrets, where every cheerful “good morning” might spark an investigation.

Welcome to the suburbs.
Everything seems flawless - until you take a closer look. In "CRIME LAWN REPEAT", you play as a man who relocates to a quiet suburban neighborhood with his younger brother, your reasons a mystery to all. A new home, new neighbors, a fresh start… or so it appears. Beneath the pristine lawns, warm smiles, and friendly picnics lurk dark secrets - and you might be hiding one yourself.
​

You spawn in this fancy New York law firm that looks like LinkedIn and Pornhub had a weird baby, and somehow you bullshitted your way into a lawyer job even though you’re basically just a smooth-talking criminal with a good memory. Office is full of people who look like they charge 900 dollars per hour just to breathe near a printer. Everyone is faking something. Degrees, morals, loyalty, orgasms, all of it. Your boss is this shark attorney who feels like he sniffs bullshit for breakfast, and he knows you’re not legit, which is kinda hot and terrifying at same time. That tension rides over every scene. One second you’re talking about contracts and hostile takeovers, next second you’re pinning a coworker with a ridiculous ass against the glass wall of a conference room while half the city skyline reflects in it like some HBO show went off the rails. The game loves that vibe where you’re half one wrong move from prison, half one wrong word from getting her panties on your office floor.

The lewd stuff hits strongest when it leans into that power play thing. Like, there’s this early moment where a big-titted coworker starts quizzing you about a case, not because she cares about justice or whatever, but because she suspects you’re a fraud and wants to see you squirm. Dialogue gets tight, she pushes, you bluff, she leans over the desk so her blouse struggles for its life, and you can practically feel your character thinking with his dick and not his brain. If you play it right, it flips from interrogation to flirting to straight-up “close the door, take off your tie, I’m bored of billing hours” energy. The sex scenes go hard on body language: her ass popping out of that pencil skirt, lipstick smeared on your collar, your hand on her hips like you’re negotiating a contract with her curves instead of her client. At some point I forgot half the legal terms and just clicked whatever kept her moaning. Funny thing, though, while the erotic vibe is top tier, pacing sometimes feels like ordering from Uber Eats and getting your dessert first, then the napkin, then the actual food. One scene takes forever teasing with office banter and lingering camera angles, then suddenly plot twist, criminal past pops back in like “hey bro, remember the drug deal?” and everything gets tense again while you still got metaphorical cum brain. The mix of secret identity, high-end law office bullshit, and all these gorgeous coworkers with big asses squeezed into business attire is lowkey cracked though. You jump from serious courtroom strategy to “how hard can I fuck her on this desk without anyone hearing through the walls” in two clicks. I kept alt-tabbing between this and Discord, trying to explain why I was sweating over a fake merger agreement. Honestly, the story around lying your way up the firm ladder while trying not to get caught is almost too good for a porn game, which is funny, because sometimes the sex scenes come in so fast they chop the tension you were enjoying. But then an angle hits where her tits bounce just right in that bra that clearly violates HR policy, and suddenly yeah, whatever, bring on the next deposition with benefits.

The guy in this game is basically the family dog that learned how to walk and fuck. For three years he runs around doing everything for his wife’s people, and they still treat him like trash. That bitter, stuck feeling is the main flavor here. You start as this useless-feeling husband who everybody orders around, and little by little the game lets you poke behind the polite mask of this “respectable” family. The dev clearly loves slow corruption, because at the start you’re just clicking through chores, errands, boring stuff, and then little cracks appear: a sister-in-law caught half naked in a room she’s “cleaning”, a mother-in-law having late-night “talks” on the phone, your wife acting tired but somehow always dressed like she expects someone else. It looks like a regular house, normal town, all that, but the vibe is more like you walked into a porn shoot where everyone forgot to stop lying.

Since it’s a sandbox, you wander a lot. Sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s just you walking from one room to another like an idiot because you forgot where the kitchen is. You open the wrong door and boom, animated scene of your wife on her knees, hand wrapped around some guy’s cock, acting like she never even heard your name. The game makes you watch, not in a quick cutscene, but in this low, humiliating, drawn-out way. You can click around, peek from different spots, try to confront, or just swallow it and pretend. The “point and click” stuff actually helps the netorare hit harder, because you’re the one guiding him into his own misery. One minute you’re doing some dumb quest to earn a bit of money, and the next you come back and she’s moaning on the couch, tits bouncing in this really shameless 3D animation, while the family just pretends nothing weird is going on. Well, except they sometimes watch too, because nobody here is normal.

Prostitution creeps in slowly. You’re already used to being treated like a tool, so when the game gives you the option to rent out your wife’s body, or help certain “family members” make extra cash, it doesn’t even feel that strange anymore. That’s probably the most fucked up part: you kind of slide into it. You go from “no way” to “ok, just once” to arranging her meeting with some fat old guy at a hotel, then walking home alone. There are quests tied to this, of course, with money rewards, item unlocks, new CGs, all that. The 3D scenes are actually pretty good at showing weight and movement, especially when she’s getting pounded hard, tits slapping, his hand on her throat, her trying to keep her voice down because someone’s in the next room. The “family secret” angle is nice too; everyone is hiding something. Some of them are using him, some of them are being used worse than him, and some are enjoying every second of it. I liked how sometimes the MC finally grows a pair and tries to take control during vaginal scenes, really giving it to a girl, and then later the same girl is bouncing on another guy’s dick like it’s her real job. The game hates him and loves him at the same time. I kinda do too.

Alex thinks he just hit the jackpot: eighteen, fancy scholarship, and his aunt basically throws him the keys to a fucking mansion. Marble floors, a pool that looks like Instagram bait, bedrooms so big you could lose a whole marriage in them. It smells like money and perfume and lies. The kind of house where silence has its own echo and everyone talks soft while their eyes keep stabbing each other. You walk in as this polite, slightly clueless kid, and very fast the game starts whispering in your ear that being innocent here just means you are easy to use. Aunt Nicole greets you like a movie star: tight dress, legs for days, smile that says “welcome home” and “don’t trust me” at the same time. The soundtrack does that slow, low synth thing when she gets too close, like the music itself is trying not to stare at her tits. It is not subtle. I liked it. Then I hated it. Then I liked it again.

The whole place feels like one long, horny interrogation. Every room has a secret and every “family” hug lasts half a second too long. Your cousins are walking red flags with perfect asses. Lisa leans in to show you something on her laptop and the camera just forgets the laptop exists, goes straight to cleavage, while some lazy bassline crawls in the background. Tina pretends to be the good girl, but there is a scene where she’s in shorts so tiny they may be a Photoshop error, and the soundtrack suddenly gets this little heartbeat kick, almost off-beat, like the composer was also jerking off. The funny thing is, the investigation part and the pervy part use the same musical vocabulary. When you are trying to break into a password protected folder, the game gives you these slow pulses of sound, like breathing in the dark, and it kind of melts into the animated bodies later when clothes start “accidentally” slipping. I got genuinely stuck on one clue, by the way, because some code was hidden in a painting title, and I will never forgive the background hum in that room for looping the same three notes. It is a small thing, but now that sound lives rent free in my skull and pays nothing.

The sex itself feels like it is growing out of the lies. You are digging into what happened to the missing uncle, and instead of answers you keep getting more skin. A comforting hug from Nicole slowly becomes her pressing those huge tits into you, asking harmless questions with this fake soft jazz in the background, then the track changes to something much darker when you say the “wrong” line. One moment you are worried about who disappeared, the next moment you are staring at a big ass bouncing in your face, with the music doing that half-romantic, half-creepy vibe, like a Netflix thriller that got horny and forgot the plot. The bodies look almost too polished, like AI had a fetish and the dev just said “ok sure,” and sometimes the animation stutters in a way that weirdly makes it hotter, because it feels like a dirty loop you found on some shady Telegram channel. There is this one bedroom scene where the lights are low, the camera lingers on a cousin’s panties sliding down her thighs, and the low-frequency rumble underneath feels like a subwoofer pressed to your chest. I honestly kept clicking the slower dialogue options just to let the track keep going. The game pretends to care about morals, about who you betray or protect, but every choice screen looks like a kink menu. Be a knight? Exploit their secrets? The soundtrack reacts, relatives react, the mansion keeps smiling with its fake luxury, and you are there, trying to solve a family mystery while also wondering how many more “accidental” family kisses you can trigger before everything falls apart in the most deliciously wrong way.

Vanessa thinks she’s just taking a comfy office job, talking about other people’s messy love lives while she sits in a nice chair with a clipboard. Then the elevator doors open, she sees her ex again, and her brain basically bluescreens. This is the woman who used to make her legs shake against a cheap mattress, now in a fancy suit, acting all professional, like she didn’t once make Vanessa come so hard she bit her own shoulder. And yeah, technically Vanessa is here as a “relationship psychologist,” but it takes about five minutes to realize the whole company is horny, lonely and way too hot to keep things strictly ethical. Every session turns into a test: listen like a good therapist, or slide a little closer, touch a little longer, let those “what if” thoughts drip into something real.

The vibe is slow burn at first, like a good office gossip chat that accidentally turns filthy. You sit across from a coworker with a ring on their finger and a dead bedroom at home, they talk about frustration, and your brain goes: “What if we just… fix that. Right here.” Some are soft and shy, fingers twisting their wedding band while their eyes keep dropping to Vanessa’s chest. Some are cocky, literally, with that futa coworker who can’t sit still in her chair because she’s hard as hell under the desk, trying to keep it “medical.” There’s this one scene that really stuck in my head: late evening, blinds half closed, the city lights outside, and Vanessa is kneeling between a client’s legs, pretending it’s still a session. She keeps asking calm questions with her mouth full, like “Does this help with your anxiety?” while spit and precum run down her chin, and the client can’t even answer, just grabbing her hair. It’s filthy and a little funny at the same time, like porn with a straight face that keeps slipping. Sometimes she starts the session with a notebook and ends it with her tits wrapped around someone’s shaft, trying to keep eye contact like it’s part of the therapy method. Other times it’s just her alone, past midnight, rubbing herself on her office chair after someone leaves, panties pushed aside, hand clamped over her mouth so no one in the hallway hears her moan her ex’s name instead of the client’s.

Half of the fun is how the “sandbox” stuff makes it feel like wandering in horny LinkedIn. You check your messages like you’re opening Slack, only instead of boring memos it’s a married woman hinting about “extra help” or a jealous coworker asking for a private talk in the break room. You poke around the building, pop into someone’s office, and next thing you’re sitting on their lap, their hands under your blouse while they confess their “emotional needs.” The teasing is constant: ass brushing against someone’s crotch in the copy room, a “friendly” hug turning into a hand sliding down the back of your skirt, a coworker dropping a file and making very sure you see her big tits when she bends to pick it up. Sometimes it’s gentle stuff like soft lesbian kissing in the storage room, thighs pressed together, fingers sneaking under a blouse. Sometimes it’s rougher: a client pinning Vanessa against her own door when she tries to keep it professional, grinding against her big ass until she finally gives up and opens her legs. The best part is how often the game lets you just sit in the tension, watching someone stare at her mouth while pretending to talk about their “communication issues” at home. One moment she’s giving calm advice, the next she’s stroking them off under the desk while they try to keep their voice level, swallowing moans between fake business words. And somewhere in the background, her ex is always there, watching, testing, flirting through half-truths, like the final boss of bad decisions. It feels messy, horny in a very “this is a terrible idea, keep going” way, and yeah, it made me hate my own boring non-horny office job a little bit more.

Monet feels like somebody took a regular city, squeezed out all the warmth, and replaced it with glass, chrome and secrets. IRYS throws you in there like you just woke up from a dream you half remember, wearing a cheap suit and an ID badge that says you belong to Deimos. You start as this regular office guy, doing spreadsheets, watching useless meetings on Zoom while pretending to listen, getting coffee that tastes like it was filtered through somebody’s sadness. On the surface it’s that boring corporate life. Then you start noticing small weird things. People know things about you that you never told them. A coworker remembers a night you “spent together” that you’re pretty damn sure never happened. Your boss praises you for a project you have no memory of, and in the same breath hints that you owe him more than just good performance. That’s when the game starts to crawl under your skin a little.

The horny part doesn’t show up like a hentai pop-up. It slips into the routine. You’re in a late-night office review, just you and this colleague with big soft tits almost falling out of her blouse, blue light from the monitor on her skin, both of you talking about quarterly targets like robots. Then there’s a line of dialogue that feels too intimate. She leans in too close. Her hand stays too long on your shoulder. One click and you push her away and keep pretending to be a good boy. Another click and you grab her wrist, pull her into your lap, and suddenly your boring Excel sheet is sharing space with her moans and the sound of your cock sliding into her on the boss’s fancy ergonomic chair. IRYS is like that a lot. It gives you these “professional” masks and waits for you to peel them off. Sex scenes are very physical, animated just enough that when you’re fucking her against the office window or bending her over a lab table, you feel every thrust. Sometimes you are gentle, slow, like she is something you want to protect from this fucked up city. Other times the corruption hits and you use her, hand on her throat, filling her raw and hard while she begs you not to stop, even when the guilt dialogue kicks in afterward and makes you question if those feelings are yours or some Deimos script injected into your brain.

What really got me was how the romance and the sci-fi mess bleed into each other. There is this one scene where you wake up in your small apartment, naked, next to a coworker you definitely did not take home. Her hair is messy, thighs still glistening, your cum leaking out of her, and she looks at you like you have been lovers for months. You check your phone and there are whole chat logs, selfies, dirty pics, little heart emojis, like a full relationship that someone speedran while you were asleep. It feels like the universe glitched and rewrote your fate. As somebody who actually believes in destiny, that hit weird. You start asking: did I really fall for her before and just forgot, or was this romance manufactured in some secret Deimos experiment so they can pull my strings better? Later, when you take her in the back of the office, pressed against a server rack humming with data, her legs wrapped around your waist while you fuck her deep and she whispers that you were “always meant for each other”, you can’t even tell if that’s sweet or just another line of code. The game loves putting you in those moments. You climax inside her during some illegal lab test, alarms faint in the background, and instead of simple post-nut clarity you get this strange dream flash of another timeline where you never joined Deimos and she never existed. IRYS keeps poking: is your dick leading you, or is the company guiding your dick so it can own your heart and your guilt at the same time. I kinda hate that it works so well. I also kinda love it. I’m confused. It fits the city.