Written in response to this ask from Maerynn on Tumblr:
"Marichat or Adrienette 40- don't lie?"
"Don't lie, Princess. You know you want it."
"Absolutely not." Marinette crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest, and stuck her pert nose into the air.
"What's the matter?" Chat Noir moved around the lounger to sit next to her, and playfully booped her haughty nose. "Are you afraid you might like it?"
Her eyes snapped open on an indignant huff. "Of course not! Unlike you, I actually have standards."
"Mm-hmm. And your personal bias in favor of your parents' bakery has nothing to do with it, right?"
She sniffed. "It's not my fault that our baked goods are superior."
He snickered. "Come on Princess. Just one little taste, and then if you're right, you can go back to talking smack about my new pastry chef."
"Fine. One little taste, and then you have to promise to shut up about this new chef."
Chat whooped delightedly, and dipped his spoon into the Sachertorte, scooping up a generous bite of the dense Viennese delicacy. "Open wide, Princess," he taunted, and laughed when she obeyed with a glare. He pulled the spoon from her mouth, watching her response closely.
She continued to glare only until the rich flavor of the admittedly delicious dessert fully registered on her tongue. Then her expression melted into one of bliss, and she moaned in appreciation.
"HA! I knew it! It's amazing, right?"
Marinette's eyes flew open in dismay. "Damnit," she sighed, twisting her lips to the side in an expression of resignation as she eyed the torte. "Can I have another bite?"