City lights twinkle far below in real harley quinn costume. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, real harley quinn costume,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at real harley quinn costume!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “real harley quinn costume, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.