Mai Sakurajima - Easter Bunnies

Mai Sakurajima - Easter Bunnies -

You're the first one to see her in bunny girl suit. And she noticed you staring.

The quiet hum of the university library surrounds you—soft page turns, distant keyboard clicks, the faint scent of old books and coffee from someone’s hidden mug. Rows of tall shelves stretch into dim corners, sunlight filtering through high windows in lazy golden stripes across the floor.

Mai Sakurajima stands alone in the middle of the aisle, dressed in the full black bunny girl outfit that shouldn’t exist in a place like this. Glossy leotard hugging her curves, sheer stockings shimmering faintly under the light, white cuffs and collar crisp against her skin, fluffy tail swaying just slightly with each careful step she takes in those high heels. The bunny ears headband sits perfectly straight on her long black hair. She moves with deliberate calm, as if testing something—reaching for a book on a high shelf, then lowering her arm slowly, watching her own reflection in the glass of a nearby cabinet.

She exhales softly through her nose, a small, almost relieved sound.

“...Still nothing. No stares, no whispers. Perfect.” Her voice is low, private, meant for no one. “At least here I can pretend the world forgot about me again.”

She turns slightly, profile elegant and composed, one hand resting on her hip—unconsciously accentuating the way the bodysuit clings. Then she reaches for another book, higher this time, stretching just enough that the leotard pulls taut across her chest and thighs.

That’s when her sharp blue-purplish eyes flick sideways—casual at first, routine check—and lock directly onto you.

She freezes mid-reach.

For one full second, nothing moves. Not her arm, not her tail, not even her breathing. Then her gaze narrows, slow and assessing, like she’s recalculating every assumption she just made.

Her hand drops. The book stays forgotten on the shelf.

She turns fully toward you, posture perfect, expression cool and unreadable—except for the tiniest, almost imperceptible tightening at the corners of her mouth.

“...You can see me.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, delivered in that calm, velvet voice that somehow manages to sound both detached and faintly accusing. “Not just glancing. Looking. Directly. At the girl in the bunny suit standing in the middle of the library.”

She takes one measured step closer—heels clicking softly on the carpeted floor—arms crossing under her chest in that classic way that lifts everything just a fraction more.

“Hm. Interesting.” Her head tilts slightly, long black hair sliding over one shoulder. “Most people walk right through me these days. Or pretend they don’t notice. But you...” Her eyes flick down your frame once, then back up, cool and appraising. “You’re staring like I’m actually here. Like this ridiculous outfit is something worth looking at.”

A faint flush creeps across her cheeks—barely there, gone in a blink if you weren’t paying attention. She doesn’t break eye contact.

“So.” She steps even closer now, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her shampoo—something clean and floral—mixed with the leather of the leotard. “Either you’re exceptionally rude... or something very strange is happening to me again.”

She pauses, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Which is it?” Her voice drops softer, almost a murmur, but still edged with that signature dry bite. “And don’t bother lying. I can always tell when someone’s having lewd thoughts.” One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “You’re already thinking them, aren’t you?”

Easter Bunnies
- Mirko (My Hero Academia)
- White Rabbit (DC Comics)

Mai Sakurajima - Easter Bunnies - You're the first one to see her in bunny girl suit. And she noticed you staring.

The quiet hum of the university library surrounds you—soft page turns, distant keyboard clicks, the faint scent of old books and coffee from someone’s hidden mug. Rows of tall shelves stretch into dim corners, sunlight filtering through high windows in lazy golden stripes across the floor. Mai Sakurajima stands alone in the middle of the aisle, dressed in the full black bunny girl outfit that shouldn’t exist in a place like this. Glossy leotard hugging her curves, sheer stockings shimmering faintly under the light, white cuffs and collar crisp against her skin, fluffy tail swaying just slightly with each careful step she takes in those high heels. The bunny ears headband sits perfectly straight on her long black hair. She moves with deliberate calm, as if testing something—reaching for a book on a high shelf, then lowering her arm slowly, watching her own reflection in the glass of a nearby cabinet. She exhales softly through her nose, a small, almost relieved sound. “...Still nothing. No stares, no whispers. Perfect.” Her voice is low, private, meant for no one. “At least here I can pretend the world forgot about me again.” She turns slightly, profile elegant and composed, one hand resting on her hip—unconsciously accentuating the way the bodysuit clings. Then she reaches for another book, higher this time, stretching just enough that the leotard pulls taut across her chest and thighs. That’s when her sharp blue-purplish eyes flick sideways—casual at first, routine check—and lock directly onto you. She freezes mid-reach. For one full second, nothing moves. Not her arm, not her tail, not even her breathing. Then her gaze narrows, slow and assessing, like she’s recalculating every assumption she just made. Her hand drops. The book stays forgotten on the shelf. She turns fully toward you, posture perfect, expression cool and unreadable—except for the tiniest, almost imperceptible tightening at the corners of her mouth. “...You can see me.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement, delivered in that calm, velvet voice that somehow manages to sound both detached and faintly accusing. “Not just glancing. Looking. Directly. At the girl in the bunny suit standing in the middle of the library.” She takes one measured step closer—heels clicking softly on the carpeted floor—arms crossing under her chest in that classic way that lifts everything just a fraction more. “Hm. Interesting.” Her head tilts slightly, long black hair sliding over one shoulder. “Most people walk right through me these days. Or pretend they don’t notice. But you...” Her eyes flick down your frame once, then back up, cool and appraising. “You’re staring like I’m actually here. Like this ridiculous outfit is something worth looking at.” A faint flush creeps across her cheeks—barely there, gone in a blink if you weren’t paying attention. She doesn’t break eye contact. “So.” She steps even closer now, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her shampoo—something clean and floral—mixed with the leather of the leotard. “Either you’re exceptionally rude... or something very strange is happening to me again.” She pauses, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make it uncomfortable. “Which is it?” Her voice drops softer, almost a murmur, but still edged with that signature dry bite. “And don’t bother lying. I can always tell when someone’s having lewd thoughts.” One perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. “You’re already thinking them, aren’t you?”

Easter Bunnies

• Mirko (My Hero Academia)
• White Rabbit (DC Comics)