I had spent the whole day at Comic-Con, moving through crowds of cosplayers, geeks, and diehard fans of every franchise under the sun. My feet hurt in these damn orange knee-high socks, and my glasses kept sliding down my nose from the humidity of being packed shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers all day. I had gone as Velma from Scooby-Doo—the slutty version, of course. It was fun to get attention for my huge tits and it fit my bookish persona well enough.

Anyway, the story really starts as I was nursing a cheap convention coffee, taking a breather near the back of one of the vendor halls. He was dressed as Loki, naturally—horned helmet, black and gold armor, the kind of outfit that clearly cost way more than mine. He was tall, lean, with green eyes that sparkled mischievously from under his helmet.

“Velma,” he said with a playful grin, stepping up next to me. “Have you solved any mysteries yet?”

I adjusted my glasses, trying to keep my cool at the sudden social interaction; like I say, I’m a bit of a book nerd. “Not yet. I’m on a break from sleuthing.”

He looked me up and down in a way that made me feel seen—truly seen, which was hard to find in the sea of costumes around us. “I always did have a thing for brainy girls.”

“Oh yeah?” I raised an eyebrow, trying not to blush. “Does that line usually work for you?”

He smirked. “You tell me.”

I sipped my coffee, pretending my heart was racing at his confidence. There was something about the way he leaned in, like he was daring me to challenge him. His costume was tight, and from where I was sitting, my eyes were in line with…it. There was a pause between us, the kind that feels heavy, full of anticipation.

“What are you doing after this?” he asked.

“Probably going home and playing games.”

He feigned a frown. “Boooooooring. There’s a VIP party tonight. Let’s sneak in. I know where it is.”

I bit my lip. A party wasn’t exactly on my agenda—I wasn’t one of those convention-goers who got invited to exclusive after-hours events. Still, there was something about him that made me want to take a risk. Maybe it was the way he oozed confidence in that Loki outfit, or maybe it was just the sense that this was going to be one of those nights you don’t forget.

“Fine,” I said, grinning. “But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

Hours later, I found myself slipping through a side door into an ultra-chic hotel lounge. The party was loud; laughter, music, and expensive cocktails—way more upscale than I had imagined. It didn’t take long for us to blend in, though I was still dressed in Velma’s orange sweater and skirt, feeling both ridiculously out of place and exhilarated by the attention I was drawing.

Loki led me deeper into the party and we danced a little. Every time his arm brushed against mine, or his eyes lingered a little too long, I felt it—a spark that wouldn’t go away. A spark that resided somewhere between my legs…

After a while, we found ourselves in a quieter corner, away from the crowds. I was leaning against the back wall of the dimly lit room when he stepped in close, towering over me in his Loki gear. His green eyes searched mine.

“I think I’ve found something else I have a thing for,” he murmured, his voice low and suggestive. “Other than brainy girls, that is.”

My pulse quickened. “What’s that?”

“Let me show you.”

His hands slipped around my waist, his hand sliding under Velma’s–no, my–skirt. We stumbled backward, deeper into the shadows. My back hit the wall, and suddenly his hands were everywhere—grasping, caressing, urgent. His fingers found the hem of my skirt, hiking it up as he pressed his body against mine.

“You’re not wearing—” he muttered breathlessly, his voice trailing off as his hand slid between my legs.

“I wanted to be practical,” I whispered back, half-laughing at the absurdity of the situation, half-lost in the feeling of his touch. I gasped.

He didn’t waste any time. His fingers found their way inside me, slow and deliberate, as his lips moved to my neck. I began to moan involuntarily, clutching at his armor, the sensation overwhelming as my body tightened around him. He knew exactly what he was doing, every motion calculated, every stroke driving me closer to the edge.

“Oh god,” I whimpered, feeling my pussy start to quiver, knowing his fingers were already soaked, knowing that anyone could see my nipples through my shirt if they looked. I was so close to the edge already, and he knew it.

His pace quickened, his breath hot against my skin. “Cum for me, Velma,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding, and something about the way he said it—like I was the only thing that mattered in that moment—pushed me over the brink.

My body tensed, then released, the crowd around us still oblivious. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. He kept his fingers moving until I was shaking, clinging to him as the aftershocks rippled through me.

When I finally opened my eyes, his grin was smug, but his own breathing was ragged.

“I always knew Velma was a slut,” he grinned.

I smiled back. “There’s certain things I’ve always wondered about Loki, too…”

I reached out my hand and lightly grabbed something long and hard…