Dinner looked normal—at first.

The table was set beautifully. Rice steamed. Vegetables sizzled in sauce. Everything smelled perfect. Videl sat across from you, fork in hand, wearing a flowy sundress that clung just right to her thick curves.

But Chi-Chi?

Nowhere in sight.

You were about to ask where she was when something moved beneath the table.

Your breath hitched.

You felt hands—warm, familiar—brush your knees, sliding up your thighs.

Then a kiss. Low. Gentle. Right there.

You coughed into your napkin, trying not to choke.

Across the table, Videl tilted her head and smiled softly. “You okay, baby?” she asked sweetly. Her voice was innocent, but her eyes knew exactly what was happening.

Chi-Chi’s mouth pressed tighter around you, licking slow, deliberate circles. You twitched in your seat.

Videl giggled. “Chi’s been in a mood all day,” she whispered, chewing delicately on a piece of carrot. “Said she missed the way you taste more than anything she could cook.”

You gripped your fork tighter.

Chi-Chi’s lips sealed fully now, her pace sinful, her throat humming.

“She told me to keep you busy,” Videl went on, voice dropping into a low purr. “So here I am… distracting you.”

She lifted her foot. Slid it up your shin. Pressed between your legs—feeling everything.

“Don’t spill your drink,” she teased, eyes locked on yours. “Or yourself.”