Weren’t You Only Using Me As A Stand-in? [128]

By the time Kitahara Takeru and Gojo Wakana returned with the bags of fried chicken, the group found a spot against the wall and sat down to eat.

“Takeru, I can’t finish this. You have the rest.”

Marin Kitagawa, worried about bursting out of her tight-fitting cosplay, had only nibbled a little. Not wanting to overeat, she handed the rest of her chicken bucket to Takeru.

He took it without hesitation.

Back when he was dating Eriri, he’d gotten used to finishing her leftovers. This felt no different. He accepted the half-eaten bucket naturally and placed it in front of himself.

Gojo watched as Takeru casually took Marin’s unfinished food — the smoothness of the gesture, the familiarity of it, made it look exactly like a boyfriend finishing his girlfriend’s meal. For a moment, Gojo forgot to chew the chicken wing he’d just brought to his mouth.

Tanaka Kōta and Ōtani Shōta leaned in together.

“Spill it. What’s going on between you and Kitagawa-san?”

Takeru finished a drumstick in a few bites, his voice calm: “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends give each other their leftovers?”
“Come on, that’s boyfriend territory.”

Takeru gave them a sidelong glance. “That’s what handsome guys do. You wouldn’t get it.”

“Bull—!”

Both of them at once.

As soon as everyone finished eating, Takeru gave them no time to rest. He clapped and told them to get up — it was time to resume shooting.

With all the earlier practice, he and Marin were now perfectly in sync.

All it took was a flick of the earbud remote, and Marin would feel a jolt — immediately understanding what pose he wanted her to switch into.

Soon, they reached the final photo set.

This last scene involved someone sitting in a chair, holding Marin on a leash.

Takeru turned to Gojo. “So, between you and me — who should do it?”

Marin’s lips parted, but before she could speak, Takeru gave the earbuds a light tap. Her face flushed instantly, teeth clenching as she swallowed her words and shut her mouth, red-eyed and resentful.

She glanced up at him — part reproach, part accusation, part sultry tease.

Why even ask Gojo-kun?

She didn’t understand why Takeru made a point of checking with Gojo before every major pose.

It was starting to feel like she was Gojo’s girlfriend or something.

Which I’m not!

Even if she were Gojo’s girlfriend, wouldn’t what Takeru was doing — controlling her in front of her boyfriend — be even more messed up?

Though… thinking about it like that — secretly being toyed with while her supposed boyfriend stood by, unaware — was kind of thrilling.

Wait... is that why Takeru keeps asking Gojo first? Because he likes this kind of thing?

A lightbulb went off in Marin’s mind. Her eyes widened.

Case closed. Takeru's a bull.

Kitahara Takeru, of course, had no idea that in Marin’s mind, he’d just been promoted to full-on Cao Cao tier degeneracy.

He kept his gaze on Gojo, waiting for an answer.

Gojo met his eyes — and instantly looked away, as if facing down some beast from a nightmare.

“I-I-I’ll take the photos,” he stammered, lunging for the camera in Takeru’s hand.

Takeru didn’t let go.

Gojo failed to pull it away — and didn’t dare use force. For a moment, they stood there awkwardly locked in place.

Takeru stared him down, voice low and deliberate: “Don’t say I never gave you a chance.”

Gojo heard the meaning beneath the words.

It was as if everything he’d tried to keep buried had been dragged into the open. Like some filthy little insect crawling in the dark had been yanked into the sun and put on display.

That raw, stripped feeling — of being seen — made him lower his head even further.

“Thanks, Gojo-kun,” Takeru added lightly, finally handing over the camera.

Tanaka elbowed Ōtani and whispered, “He’s totally crushing, right?”

“No kidding.”

Ōtani leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching with amusement. “I love these kinds of guys. The hopeless romantic types who keep everything bottled up, fooling themselves into thinking they’re some tragic hero.”

“The ones who secretly follow her social posts, like what she likes, hate what she hates, and think they know her better than anyone.”

“They break their own hearts in slow motion. Then, when she gets a boyfriend, bam — they finally shut up.”

“Seriously, why do you keep staring at my crotch? Are you a ‘staring-at-the-crotch cat’ or something?”

“Head up a little more. There — yeah. Not that much! Come on, just tilt it! Don’t stick your tongue out, what’s wrong with you?”

Takeru sat in the chair, right hand casually wrapping the chain connected to the collar around Marin’s neck. He tugged it slightly, giving her a look that was half amusement, half curiosity — like a man inspecting a new toy.

Marin knelt on the floor between his legs, her pale neck arched up like a swan, red-eyed and full of indignation as she glared up at him.

She looked exactly like one of those eroge heroines — a character forced into submission, trembling with both humiliation and defiance.

Click! Click!

Behind them, Gojo Wakana raised the camera and took photo after photo, mechanically, almost numb.

But behind the lens, his face had started to twist in silent anguish.

Watching Marin kneel before Takeru like that, leash in hand — he could barely breathe. It felt like he was being forced to watch his wife sleep with another man right in front of him.

“Gojo, let me see that shot? Gojo? Go—”

Takeru had to call him several times before Gojo snapped back. “Huh? Kitahara-kun?”

“Show us the photo.”

“Oh. Sure…”

Gojo handed over the camera like a robot.

Takeru took it and started reviewing the shots.

“I want to see! Me too!” Marin cried, pushing herself up by bracing her hands on his knees. She plopped herself down onto Takeru’s lap, her head leaning in against his to peek at the screen.

Gojo stared at the scene — Marin seated on Takeru’s thigh, the two of them pressed cheek-to-cheek — and felt like a fish flung onto dry land. The air felt too thin to breathe.

Takeru frowned. “Off.”

Marin pouted. “My legs are numb. Let me sit for a second~ Come on, don’t be so stingy, Takeru~”

“If you’re tired, I’ll give you the chair. But get off my leg.”

Look, he was a photographer, not a lap pillow.

Even Kasumigaoka, Eriri, Hiratsuka-sensei — hell, even Kashiwagi Nagisa — none of them had ever sat on his lap.

“I’ll pay extra!”

“In that case, sit wherever you like.”

Takeru’s attitude changed immediately.

If the money’s right, he wasn’t above being a footstool.

Marin scrolled through the photos with him. “Hey, Takeru, what if we splashed a little yogurt on my face? You know, to give it that... creamy white fluid look?”

Takeru glanced at the screen. “Yogurt’s too white. I’d go with Deluxe Milk — more realistic shade.”

“Maybe I should hold some in my mouth too?”

“I think that’d fail the platform review.”

“True, the censors are brutal these days. I heard one reviewer used to work for Pixiv Cat — bans everything at lightning speed.”

“Don’t remind me. Even Singularity's looser than their standards.”

As the two bantered shamelessly, Marin suddenly froze — her lower half was trembling.

The constant low vibration buzzed against her again.

Her cheeks flushed scarlet.

She gave Takeru a heated glare — sultry, sharp, and scolding all at once.

We were having a normal chat! Why now?!

Gojo was right there behind them!

But… maybe that made it even more exciting?

Takeru read the thought instantly in her eyes. His face remained expressionless.

“Get up. You’re sitting on my phone.”

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This is a fan translation of 不是说只拿我当替身的吗？by 雪碧加冰. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!