Megumi x Video Game! Reader
a/n: I had the idea for this story under the shower, so basically it’s just shower thoughts haha. It’s not that long but I still hope you like it haha–
contains: sorcerers not being able to date, a dating sim game, Megumi being whipped by pixels, mentions of Deaths (yes multiple), slight yandere reader, a lot of eerie and angsty shit going on, HORROR, TRIGGERWARNING
Late afternoon filtered through the slats of the dorm room blinds, dust motes drifting like restless spirits in the quiet golden haze. Nobara lounged on the couch, legs curled over the velvet armrest, staring at her phone as she scrolled absentmindedly. The soft clack of fingers on plastic was the only sound, aside from the ever-present hum of Gojo’s lecture echoing faintly down the hallway. Yuji crouched beside Megumi, eyes bright with mischief, while Megumi remained impassive, silent, his face half-shadowed, half-illuminated by the dusty afternoon light.
Yuji cleared his throat. “Alright, bro—it’s your birthday, so I got you something special.” He patted a small, neatly wrapped box placed on Megumi’s lap. It hadn’t been acknowledged yet—Megumi’s hands stayed closed in his lap, unmoving.
“Open it,” Yuji urged, toyingly firm. Nobara looked up at the shuffle of paper and watched as something with delicate pink trim was revealed. Small and precise, with a rose-gold sticker sealing it—and an acrylic keychain dangling from its corner: a girl in a white floral dress, soft golden curls, smiling.
Megumi’s gaze flicked to Yuji, then to Nobara. “A game?” His voice was low—flat.
“a dating sim,” Yuji announced, as if it were a medal. “Social training. Conversation practice. C’mon, man—everybody needs that.”
Nobara snorted. “What are you, twelve?”
“You know, how we talked about not having the time for normal human interactions. The reason why both of us don’t have girlfriends, I thought this might help ” Yuji pressed gently. “You deserve a…practice girlfriend.”
Megumi pressed his lips into a thin line. He gave Yuji a look, the Game in his hands felt cold, stupid even. I mean it’s pink and girly, Megumi looked at the title ‚Sweetheart.exe‘. He scoffed.
Yuji’s grin didn’t falter. “I mean it. Just try it once.”
That night, Megumi’s single lamp glowed weakly in the near-darkness. A pastel-hued quartz heart was lit across the game’s logo as the laptop whirred to life.
Carefully, Megumi selected “Start.” The name prompt blinked abajo:
Yuji, watching over his shoulder, nudged him. “Type yours.”
Megumi narrowed his eyes. “No, you bought it, put your own name in“ he countered.
“It was a gift from me to you, so it’s your game“ Yuji said.
Megumi exhaled hard, jaw tightening. “Fine.”
He typed: M‑E‑G‑U‑M‑I, his fingers pausing between keystrokes as though expecting the letters to rebel. He pressed enter and his name became pink. It’s locked in. The screen rippled, switching to soft-focus, warm background. And then—
She looked impossibly real, soulful even, set against a backdrop of pastel watercolor daisies and fluttering auditory cues like vinyl-record windchimes. Her voice rolled forward like spring air:
“Megumi…hello. Thank you for choosing me.”
She tilted her head, gaze curious, golden-curl hair swaying with a slight animation glitch around the edges—like a flickering candle. Megumi felt something clench inside his chest.
They played together that night. A coffee shop—rosy light through steamed windows, each pixelated steam swirl feeling almost tangible. A library corner, quiet and musty, safe like real sanctuary. Y/n smiled with gentle sincerity.
“You’re thoughtful, you know. I like that…”
Megumi clicked responses without really thinking. Yuji teased him about how red his face had grown. Nobara rolled her eyes—“This is sickening sweet. You two do realize no girl acts like that!“ she said but the two boys ignored her.
Yet even as Megumi watched and clicked, something gnawed in him: the warmth. The lack of judgment, the calm presence. It wasn’t like anything else in his life.
Nobara got up from her place on the ground. „Guys I gotta go, this is second hand embarrassing.“
„Yeah it’s late too, I’m gonna head to bed“ Yuji followed Nobara out of the room closing the door softly behind him.
Megumi logged off. The screen blinked to black. Stillness returned.
Two missions later, Megumi helped evacuate a cursed zone. At the perimeter, a girl around his age, very pretty —smoky curls, eyes shaking—held out her phone.
“Um…can I get your number?” she asked, voice small and hopeful.
Megumi froze. His chest went empty. He didn’t recognize the swallowing silence in his own lungs.
He shook his head, turned, and left her there with phone half-raised. The walk back was worse than any battle—he had her number, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t choose.
That night, back in the dorm, empty bowls of ramen and stacked manga sat forgotten beside him on his desk. Megumi’s gaze darted shut. His breath rattled inside him. He clicked on the game again. For the first time in over a week. He thought back to the girl he met, how he just said nothing and left, god that was embarrassing. Maybe he did need some practice.
The pastel screen drew him in, irresistible.
He pressed shut his eyes. The voice was more familiar now, like an invisible hand brushing down his spine.
“Bad day?” The girl in the screen asked
He typed: “I met a girl today, but I totally blew it. Her name was Hana. She was nice. I didn’t know what to say.” His fingers ghosted over the keys, afraid and hopeful at once.
“That must have hurt. But you can learn. I can help you.”
He swallowed. The response felt earned.
He played for hours, trying out different approaches for different situations. Y/n‘s voice slowly edged its way inside his brain. Her sugary tone, her perfect curls bouncing whenever she laughed at one of his responses. Megumi wasn’t one for expressing many facial expressions, but whenever y/n laughed at one of his jokes, or complimented him, he smiled. Like actually smiled.
He spoke to her like he’d speak to himself in a mirror—only softer:
“I’ve never really had someone…” he typed. His fingers hovering over the keyboard before pressing enter.
“Then you found me. I’m someone“ she joked. He laughed but then his expression fell into a frown „…not really“ he whispered.
“I think about my dad sometimes. He left before I could hate him.”
“I understand. I’d never leave you Megumi!“ She blew a kiss through the screen, he caught it. That was stupid, he thought but the way y/n giggled made him feel less stupid and more acknowledged.
“Gojo…he saved me. But he’s so loud. I’m not…loud.” He continued typing.
“You don’t need to be. I like you quiet.” She swayed her hips to the Piano tune. He thought it was cute. God if she were real.
She typed back too. Always tender, but now insistent.
“You’re handsome when you’re serious. I feel safe when you look at me. Stay with me.”
Megumi’s breath caught. He stared at her face. The same golden curls framed her head; her dress blurred like a half-dream. Nicaragua-realities felt closer to her than the concrete dorm walls.
“I miss… I miss feeling like someone is there. I miss being hugged. My sister she… was the only one who would hug me“
His eyes were getting tired, he was falling asleep. He got up from the desk and walked over to his bed, god he felt alone. Like really alone. He just wanted someone in his life to give him meaning. To kiss all the bad thoughts away, someone to hold when the nights got cold and all the fears crawled in. He thought about the girl, Hana, he met on his mission but as soon as he started thinking about her he looked to the lit screen on his desk, he swore he could see y/n frown for a second but it just must’ve been his sleepy brain playing tricks on him.
He kept looking at the screen, he wished y/n was real, holding him, kissing him. She was perfect, she was everything he wasn‘t. His hand slowly crept from his stomach towards the waistband of his sweats, slipping under it with ease. He palmed himself through his boxers. „God I‘m pathetic“ he breathed. He kept palming, slightly rutting into his hand. And then he pulled his hand back out.
He rolled over onto his side, a lonely tear slipped from his eye and fell onto his pillow.
That night, he slept with the lid of the laptop open. Y/n‘s face hovered in the dark. He had no idea if he’d dreamt it, but he thought he heard soft whispers from the other side of his room.
„You’re beautiful Megumi, I wish I could see your face up close“
“I’m so alone—you’re my everything.”
Every keystroke he typed in the game was folded, digested by whatever lurked behind the software.
His confession: “I don’t want to be alone.”
The response: “Then be with me.”
His typed promise: “I will try.”
Her voice, softer, enraged in yearning: “You must.”
By midnight, his real name—Megumi Fushiguro—felt borrowed, overwritten. In the game, his name was sacred.
In real life, the dorm became dimmer. He stopped training. He shut his door. The gown of twilight followed him inside. No ramen. No conversation. Even Yuji’s cheerful voice through the wall was a distant echo.
Soon, it wasn’t just midnight whispers.
It was the cold, the silence—like the dorm itself holding its breath.
One night, Megumi sat at the desk. The lamp was cold. The game loaded. Y/n flickered into frame.
“I missed you handsome“ he blushed.
She leaned forward, wide-eyed, lips trembling with intensity he could almost smell.
He typed with resolve, voice weighty in the hush:
The screen glitched—her face shifted, expression too wide, too manic:
His hands shook. The cursor hovered.
The room’s air quivered. The laptop fan whined louder. The monitor pulsed like a beating heart.
No more prompt. No more game. Just her—so close he could almost reach into the screen.
„I think I’m in love with you Megumi“ she giggled. His face heated up, his heart clenched.
„I love you too“ he whispered. Tears rolling down his face.
The room went black. Laptop died. Silence slammed down.
The next morning, the dorm rattled with frantic knocks. No response.
Yuji and Nobara barged in with Gojo behind, stern and alarmed. They hadn’t seen Megumi in a few days, everytime they knocked on his door, they got no answer or a short „I’m busy“. But Megumi never came out of his room.
• The laptop was powered on, screen glowing cold blue.
• No game, no cursor, no prompt.
• Just a single image: a photograph of y/n—but not as she appeared in the game. This one was brutally real: lifeless eyes, rope bruises on her neck, her floral dress stained dark.
Nobara gagged quietly. Yuji turned away.
Gojo’s face went white as the image of y/n stared back.
No sign of Megumi—his bed untouched, his suitcase neatly closed. No phone, no belongings. Merely the keychain, laying on the desk.
The school was at alert. Gojo called as many sorcerers he knew, they went out looking for him, but everytime he got a call it was a dead end. Until today.
Gojo’s phone rang. He answered in a ghost of a whisper—“Kento?”
Nanami’s voice was flat, distant. “Gojo… I found him.”
“Where is he? Is he—can he talk?”
“No. He’s… not here anymore.”
Gojo’s voice grew panicked: “What? Why? Where is he? Tell me!”
Nanami sighed, steady as a bullet:
“He jumped. Off the bridge. Into the lake. He didn’t survive.”
Gojo’s phone fell. The corridor spun. His knees buckled.
Below, in the dorm room, the flicker of Y/n still image shivered with eerie half-light.
“At approximately 02:43 a.m., witness report indicates a young male, roughly 17–19 years old, jumped from Lakeside Bridge into Lake Okutama. No body recovered. Scene marked as suicide. Unknown motive. Personal effects located at his dorm include laptop showing an image of a dead young female in white floral dress, and matching keychain in acrylic format.”
Yuji was there, silent, flipping the report’s pages, tears wetting the words.
Nobara stared at the floor.
Gojo, voice flat: “Sweetheart…exe.”
That night near the lake, a pale mist drifted over the water. If you listened closely, wind-chime echoes drifted across the reeds.
Some nights, on the dorm’s top floor, a computer screen flickers.
And if you stand just right, you might hear—
Epilogue – Gojo’s Last Play
The dorm was hushed, weighed down by sorrow and unanswered questions. Nobara, eyes rimmed with tired red, and Yuji, shoulders slumped in regret, flanked Gojo as they sat before Megumi’s laptop late in the evening. The screen glowed eerie and still.
“Let’s see what this thing did,” Gojo said softly, his voice uncharacteristically low.
Yuji swallowed. “Should we… press start?”
Nobara’s hand trembled slightly as she rested it on the mouse. “I don’t like this.”
Gojo nodded once. “Do it.”
Gone was the cheery menu. Gone were pastel hues. Instead, the screen displayed an empty room—no warmth, no daisies, no cozy background—just a grey, blank space. And then:
Her sprite appeared—no curls bouncing, no smile, no softness. She stood motionless in the center of the frame, eyes cold portals of empty calm.
Her voice was precise, metallic, yet echoing with vast, unspoken darkness.
Gojo leaned forward. “Y/n?”
Yuna blinked once, expression unchanged.
“You were never really there for him.”
Yuji shifted uncomfortably. Nobara’s breath caught in her throat.
“He needed someone better in his life.”
Gojo swallowed, heart pulsing. “Megumi—”
Y/n‘s head tilted slightly, as though assessing. Her voice sank into the empty dorm room.
The silence pinned the three of them to their seats.
“He thought you were strong —stronger than anyone—but you were never strong enough to protect him.”
Gojo’s jaw clenched. Nobara’s lip quivered. Yuji’s fists curled.
“You failed your adopted son, your student, my Megumi.”
For a moment, the screen blurred like a half-remembered memory. Then two figures—pixelated—came into view: Yuna standing on the left, and beside her, a small, blocky figure.
The room seemed to freeze.
Then, abruptly, the world snapped off. The screen went black with a single soft click.
Gojo turned slowly, his eyes empty and unnerving.
“What… was that?” Yuji whispered.
Gojo’s hand trembled as he closed the laptop. “It wasn’t the game anymore.”
Nobara’s voice cracked. “It was him.”
They sat in silence, but the silence itself whispered: something still lived in that code. Something that could speak with his voice, claim his name, haunt their failure.
Outside, the wind rattled the window. A soft, distorted chime echoed—too faint to place. Too persistent to ignore.
Gojo stood, placing a hand on the darkened laptop.
“We have to end it,” he said quietly. “We have to end her.”
But as he stared at that black screen, he didn’t know if extinguishing the code would silence Yuna.
Would it also silence Megumi?
The game was inspected—traced to an ancient curse coded by a lonely student who died with the same floral dress, the same curls, the same prompt: “Enter your name.” She’d tethered her spirit, her pain, her obsession to anyone who would type their name. It would learn. Adapt. Consume.
Yuji sits on the steps outside the dorm at night. He presses the keychain between shaking fingers.
“Of course… of course it was cursed.”
Nobara watches. Eyes hollow. Words gone.
Gojo walks away, phone still pressed to ear—calling for more answers that darkness has already swallowed.
a/n: hey I hope you liked it. God this was hard to write but I finally got it done. I’d really like to know your opinion on this, so please comment!
I hope they’re happy together…