She'd learned to take care of certain things by herself over the few years the blonde's spent with her beloved psychopath, no not psychopath, genius boyfriend. Sometimes one of them will be in Arkham for a few months, and it gets pretty lonely in those damn abandoned comedy club hideouts when there's no heist to do or flying rodent fight.
Harley doesn't thing anything's wrong with her when one little thought of her puddin turns into two, which snowballs into a million different things swirling around in her head about not the cleanest things. What? A girl's got needs too, nothing wrong with it. Especially when her poor J has been locked in some padded, white cell for four whole months.
The harlequin tries to tell herself that it's natural, because it is, and it's something normal, everyone does it.
She still screeches in horror when the Joker bursts into their bedroom, a tightly tied up Batman being dragged along who's eyes widen at the sight of Harley Quinn with her shirt up and one hand shoved down the front of the panties that have a bright yellow bat symbol right across the front. Mistah J's laughter doesn't stop for at least four hours.
Hello! This'll be an on going drabble series of whatever ideas pop into my head. They'll all be Harley but various pairings. JokerXHarley, PoisonQuinn, and even more. So if you have a prompt please drop it in the comment box and I may write it!