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It was a Friday night, and Emma had invited Regina over for a late dinner, Henry away at a sleepover. Regina hadn’t expected much, Emma, after all, was not known for her culinary skills, but what she had been met with was nothing short of endearing. A simple meal, yes, but one made with clear effort: spaghetti with homemade meatballs and sauce, crisp garlic bread, and, to Regina’s genuine surprise, a rich, velvety chocolate mousse for dessert. The food had been delicious, imperfect in that unmistakably Emma way. As Regina watched her girlfriend grin sheepishly across the table, a bit of chocolate on her cheek, she felt something deepening, something warm and quiet settling into her bones.
She had already been falling, but tonight, over a plate of homemade pasta and chocolate mousse, she fell just a little more.
Regina was still surprised that Emma had managed to find a loft with three bedrooms and two bathrooms in the small town she had created decades ago. Storybrooke wasn’t exactly known for its surplus of modern housing, yet somehow, Emma had found this space a blend of industrial charm and homey practicality that suited her in an oddly perfect way.
The loft featured a black metal spiral staircase that led upstairs, where two bedrooms were tucked away. One had been transformed into a study, a cozy retreat with a simple desk and laptop, two bookcases filled with both Emma’s and Henry’s books, and a beanbag chair that looked anything but comfortable. Yet Henry swore it was the best seat in the house, their designated little nook for reading.
Henry’s bedroom was downstairs, the walls painted a deep navy blue. His full-size bed sat against one wall, surrounded by framed pictures and posters of his favorite movies and games. A flat-screen TV was mounted above a small dresser, where his PlayStation 5 rested neatly—a perfect teenage sanctuary, personalized and well-lived-in.
Despite only having moved in a few weeks ago, Emma’s presence was already stitched into the loft’s fabric. Her leather jacket was draped carelessly over the couch, her boots discarded near the front door in a way that suggested she had kicked them off without a second thought. The air held the faintest trace of her scent—something warm, familiar, and distinctly Emma. Unlike their son, Emma was the messier one of the trio, a quiet contrast that Regina found both exasperating and, if she were honest, far more endearing than she’d ever admit.
The shower had been running for nearly twenty minutes, the steady rush of water filling the quiet loft as Regina lingered in Emma’s bedroom, left to her own devices. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her gaze drifting to a framed photo resting on the nightstand. It was one of Emma and her three-year-old brother, Neal, dressed in matching Christmas sweaters as they posed with Santa, who, Regina recognized with amusement, was played by Marco. Emma’s reluctant smile and Neal’s bright-eyed excitement made it one of Regina’s favorite pictures.
Setting the frame back down on the tall dresser, her attention shifted to the laundry basket sitting on the hardwood floor near the closet, filled with clean clothes. A familiar irritation flickered in her chest. If there was one thing Regina couldn’t stand, it was Emma’s habit of leaving her clothes in a wrinkled heap instead of folding them properly.
With a quiet sigh, she reached for the basket. Unable to help herself, she began folding.
Regina loved Emma wholeheartedly, with every bit of her soul and being. It was a love that had settled deep, woven into the very fabric of who she was, impossible to untangle. She loved Emma’s little quirks, the way she tripped over her own feet despite her effortless confidence, the way she could be childlike in her excitement yet so fiercely protective in the same breath. She even loved Emma’s complete lack of proper decorum, her tendency to speak before thinking, to challenge Regina with that infuriating smirk.
Regina loved Emma’s worn-out, undeniably ugly red leather jacket, the one that should have been retired years ago but somehow suited her perfectly. She loved the boots, caked with mud from whatever mission Emma had gotten herself into, no matter how many times Regina scolded her for it. And, if she were being truly honest, she loved Emma’s choice of underwear- specifically her boxer briefs.
The first time Regina had seen Emma in her underwear was the morning after the blonde had arrived in town, threatening not only to take Henry from her but to break her curse. Regina had gone to Emma’s room at Granny’s with a basket of apples, one laced with poison, a silent warning wrapped in temptation.
But when the door had swung open, it wasn’t a confrontation that Regina had been met with. It was Emma barefoot, her golden hair slightly mussed, wearing nothing but a thin white tank top and a pair of red high-cut lace panties. Regina had gone utterly still, her throat turning dry as her gaze involuntarily swept downward, catching on the way the delicate lace contrasted against Emma’s smooth, milk-white skin. It had been a moment, just a second too long, but long enough for Regina to realize, to feel something entirely unwelcome curl low in her stomach.
But it wasn’t until months into their relationship that Regina had discovered something even more dangerous, something that left her just as breathless, if not more. The first time Emma had shed her usual sleepwear and casually walked around in nothing but boxer briefs, it had been unexpected. And to Regina’s surprise, she had gone weak for them.
Perhaps it was the way they fit Emma’s hips, the way they accentuated the lean lines of her body, or maybe it was just Emma herself, the way she had finally allowed herself to be comfortable, to let her guard down. Either way, Regina was helpless to it. Helpless to her.
Regina hung up Emma’s jeans, button-ups, and shirts in the closet, then moved on to folding her socks and tank tops, neatly placing them in the dresser. Finally, she reached for the briefs.
The water had shut off about ten minutes ago, and as Regina folded the boxer briefs, she began to notice a pattern. Some were solid colors, Tommy Hilfiger, Calvin Klein, and the Chanel briefs she had bought for Emma, just because. But then there were the ones that showcased Emma’s childlike side, the one that surfaced now and then in the most unexpected ways.
Regina shook her head, letting out a soft chuckle as she folded a pair printed with the Iron Man logo. Others featured the Hulk, Superman, and a Halloween pattern covered in tiny pumpkins. There were rainbow pride briefs, ones with a sun print, and even a pair with police cars.
“Miss Swan,” Regina called out, amusement lacing her tone. “These printed briefs of yours are making me feel like I’m dating a child. I swear, I think Henry has the same Iron Man pair. And really, Em—puppies?”
The bathroom door opened, and Emma stepped out, towel in hand, as she dried her damp hair. “What? You said you loved my boxers.”
Regina huffed, lifting a pair between her fingers. “I do, but not the ones I can find in the children’s section—”
She turned around mid-sentence and nearly lost her composure.
Emma stood there, utterly unbothered, dressed in nothing but a loose white tank top and boxer briefs printed with bright yellow rubber duckies. Regina’s tongue went dry, and she struggled to swallow.
“Rubber duckies,” she finally managed, voice a touch hoarse. “Really?”
Regina Mills would never admit it. Hell no. She would never confess that of all the ridiculous, childish boxers Emma owned, the ones that made her weaker than she’d ever care to acknowledge were the very pair the blonde was currently wearing, the rubber duckies.
Emma smirked, letting the towel drop to the floor as she sauntered toward her girlfriend. Without hesitation, she slipped her arms around Regina’s waist, pressing herself flush against the brunette’s back. Her hands moved in slow, teasing strokes over Regina’s stomach before slipping beneath the soft fabric of her gray shirt, fingertips brushing against warm, sun-kissed skin.
Her lips ghosted over the curve of Regina’s neck, voice a sultry whisper. “Mmm, I think you secretly love my printed boxers.”
Regina scoffed, but she didn’t pull away from Emma’s embrace. “Please.”
Emma tightened her hold, her lips grazing Regina’s neck as she placed featherlight kisses against the sensitive skin. “You love them,” she murmured, her breath warm. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed that your favorite pair just happens to be the ones I’m wearing now.”
Regina’s eyes fluttered shut as Emma’s mouth continued its slow, teasing assault, tiny kisses, a gentle graze of teeth, a playful nip before smoothing over the spot with her tongue. She melted against Emma’s firm body, her chuckle soft and breathless. “Rubber duckies, sweetheart? Really? They’re ridiculous, and borderline toddler territory.”
Emma grinned against her skin. “Maybe. But they’re cute, and you love them. I can see it in your eyes. And in the way your body reacts every time I wear them.”
Regina’s breath hitched slightly at the mention of her body’s response, and though she tried to remain composed, the warmth spreading through her was unmistakable. She turned her head slightly, meeting Emma’s eyes over her shoulder, her voice steady but low, “Is that so?”
Emma grinned, her hands sliding further up Regina’s stomach, pushing the fabric of the shirt just slightly. “Oh, absolutely. I can feel it. You can deny it all you want, but you can’t hide that little spark in your eyes when you see these.” She gently tugged at the waistband of the boxer briefs with a playful glint in her eyes.
Regina’s heart raced, her usual composure slipping, as she pressed back against Emma, a smirk curling on her lips. “You think so? Maybe I’m just getting used to your… odd choices in clothing.” Her words were teasing, but the way she leaned back into Emma’s touch said otherwise.
Emma’s breath caught at the way Regina was reacting, her body instinctively pressing against hers, a subtle surrender. “Uh-huh. You’re trying to convince yourself, aren’t you?” Emma whispered against the side of Regina’s neck, her lips brushing the sensitive skin once again, sending a shiver down Regina’s spine. “You love me in these… even if you won’t admit it.”
Regina tried to keep her composure, but Emma’s words were a delicious assault on her senses. She felt the heat in her cheeks as Emma’s hands slid further up her body, lingering just enough to make her breath hitch. “You’re impossible,” Regina muttered, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability despite her best efforts to stay aloof.
Emma smirked, her lips brushing against Regina’s ear as she whispered, “I’m not the only one who’s impossible, sweetheart. Your body gives you away every time I wear these.”
Regina froze, her heart skipping a beat. “What?” She was already trying to pull away, but Emma held her firmly in place, one hand resting against her waist while the other traced the line of her ribs.
Emma’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect she was having. “You try so hard to hide it, but I can see it in the way you react when you’re near me while I wear these.” She paused, voice teasing but tender. “The way your breath hitches, how your body leans into mine just a little bit more, even when you’re pretending you don’t care.”
Regina felt the heat flood her face as Emma’s words cut through the teasing banter and struck straight to her core. She tried to regain her composure but couldn’t hide the flush that spread across her cheeks. “You… you’re ridiculous,” Regina muttered, though the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Emma leaned in closer, her lips grazing Regina’s neck again. “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who’s secretly obsessed with me in rubber duckies.”
Regina swallowed hard, her breath catching in her throat as she fought to maintain some semblance of control. “I am not obsessed,” she managed, but the way her body trembled against Emma’s touch said otherwise.
“Yeah, sure,” Emma teased, pressing a soft kiss to Regina’s shoulder. “But your body knows what it wants, Regina.” She pulled away just enough to catch the look in her girlfriend’s eyes. “And it wants me in these boxers.”
Regina shook her head but couldn’t suppress a soft laugh, the tension between them shifting as she gave in to the playful moment. “You really are impossible.”
“But you love it,” Emma said with a wink, pressing a final kiss to Regina’s lips before pulling away. “Don’t worry, I’ll wear them more often. For you.”
Emma was pulled back gently as Regina gripped the hem of her white tank top, their lips meeting in a sweet, tender kiss. They hummed softly against each other before reluctantly breaking away, their gazes locking. Green eyes met brown, and Regina couldn’t help but smile at Emma’s cheeky, mischievous grin.
“I love you,” Regina whispered, her voice full of warmth.
“I love you, too, baby.” Emma’s smile widened, and she leaned in, capturing Regina’s lips once more in a kiss, this time deeper and more assured. Her arms wrapped around Regina’s waist, drawing her close, their bodies pressing together as she let her hands wander lower, tracing the curve of Regina’s hips.
Regina’s hands slid down Emma’s back, finding their way to her firm ass. She gave it a playful squeeze, her fingers smoothing over the soft cotton of Emma’s boxers, her touch lingering. “I do love these,” Regina murmured, her voice soft but full of affection, “because they’re so you.”
Emma raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “How?”
Regina’s smile widened, a mix of affection and amusement in her gaze as she looked at the blonde before her. “They’re playful, fun, and unexpected. Just like you. Always bringing something new, something real… without ever trying too hard.” She gave another gentle squeeze, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric. “You’re full of surprises, Em, and these are just… perfect for you.”
Emma’s lips curled into a grin as she leaned in, their foreheads touching now, her hands wrapping tightly around Regina’s waist. “So, I remind you of a rubber duckie.” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down.
Regina couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking her head at Emma’s playful grin. “I didn’t say that,” she teased, her fingers still lightly brushing against the soft cotton of Emma’s boxers. “But you are certainly full of playful, unexpected moments. Just like those rubber duckies, you have a way of making everything more… fun.”
Emma’s grin widened, clearly pleased with herself. “Well, if the rubber duckie fits…” she said, giving Regina a wink. “Guess that makes me your favorite bath time companion.”
Regina rolled her eyes, but the smile that tugged at her lips betrayed her amusement. “You are a handful, Miss Swan.” Her hands slid up to Emma’s shoulders, gently pushing her back just enough to meet her eyes, the warmth and affection there undeniable. “But you’re my handful,” she added softly, her tone a little more serious now, her gaze locking with Emma’s.
Emma’s grin softened, her arms pulling Regina closer. “I wouldn’t want to be anyone else’s.”
Regina’s arms slid around Emma’s neck, pulling her closer, their lips hovering just inches apart. She could feel the warmth of Emma’s breath, the tension building in the air between them. Her voice dropped to a low, teasing whisper. “Neither would I,” she murmured, her lips brushing Emma’s lightly, sending a spark of electricity through both of them.
Emma’s eyes flickered between Regina’s lips and her eyes, her breath hitching in anticipation. “Good,” she whispered back, her fingers threading through Regina’s hair, tugging her just a fraction closer. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
Regina’s breath caught as she closed the distance between them, her lips finally meeting Emma’s in a kiss that was slow and deep, both of them savoring the warmth and tenderness of the moment. Emma’s hands roamed, pulling Regina closer, until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. They tumbled onto the soft mattress, their bodies entwined, and the familiar warmth of each other wrapped them up.
Strong hands removed each piece of clothing that stood between Emma’s hands and Regina’s skin, their lips hungrily drinking each other’s in a fevered dance. Emma’s white tank top was pulled off and flew somewhere across the bedroom, landing in a heap. Then, Emma’s rubber ducky boxer briefs were tossed carelessly and fluttered to the rug.
“Hey! Not my rubber duckies!”
“Do shut up, Miss Swan,” Regina husked, her eyes locking with Emma’s, the intensity between them almost palpable. She dipped her head, trailing her lips along Emma’s inner thigh, higher and higher, until she finally reached—
“Fuckkkk, Gina.”