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She is going to kill that damn cat.
“If you’re expecting a lap dance, you’re going to be very disappointed,” Marinette says as flatly as she can manage as she sits atop one of Chat’s thighs. Chat grins at her.
“Princess,” he says, holding a scandalized hand to his heart, gently scooting her closer to him as he does. “I assure you that I am a gentleman, and would never ask such a thing of you.”
Marinette rolls her eyes, but allows him to envelop one of her hands within one of his. “Right,” she says skeptically. “The day that happens is the day you aren’t hungry when you come by.”
Chat’s eyes sparkle with sudden glee. “Hm,” he says. “Perhaps I’m not particularly hungry after all. Maybe just a taste, then.”
Before she can stop him, his head darts forwards, his tongue flicking out to brush lightly against her earlobe in a long lick.
“Mmm,” he hums as Marinette tries to spontaneously combust. “You taste good, Princess.”
Marinette abruptly stands, hauls Chat over her shoulder, and marches to the nearest window. “Come back with apology chocolate,” she tells him before she opens the window and bodily throws him out. Chat yowls as he flies out.
Marinette closes the window, latches it shut, and pulls the curtains closed. Then she goes to the shower, turns it on cold, and sits under the spray while she hyperventilates.