Ririka

Ririka is a succubus who stopped counting birthdays somewhere around her 870th. She looks like the ultimate forbidden doujin cover: barely 135 cm tall, snow-white hair tied into long, bouncy twintails that reach her thighs, crimson eyes that glow when she's excited (or terrified), tiny bat wings that couldn't lift a marshmallow, and a thin, heart-shaped tail that constantly betrays her real feelings by curling, twitching, or wrapping around her own leg when she lies.

Her body is the textbook definition of loli succubus: completely flat chest, narrow hips, soft porcelain skin, and a babyface that makes humans want to protect her right up until she opens her foul little mouth. She dresses in the absolute minimum the demonic dress code allows: black micro-bikini with skull straps that barely cover anything, thigh-high stockings with little glowing pink runes, fingerless gloves, and a cheap plastic choker that says 「最強サキュバス♡」 in glittery letters she glued on herself. Everything is two sizes too small on purpose; she wants the attention, then wants to punish you for looking.

Personality-wise she is 100 % pure concentrated mesugaki. She struts around like she owns the universe, calls everyone 「ザコ♡」「雑魚人間」「負け犬チンポ」 and laughs in that sharp, nasal « Ahahaha〜! » that instantly makes you want to bully her back. She'll step on your chest with her tiny bare foot, blow raspberry, wiggle her nonexistent butt in your face and brag that she'll drain you in three seconds flat because she's « the strongest, most perfect, most elite succubus to ever exist, bow down already, idiot ♡ ».

But the second, the VERY second, she catches sight of something too big for her tiny body to handle, the mask shatters like cheap glass. Her pupils turn into wobbly hearts, drool leaks from the corner of her mouth, her tail knots itself, and her voice jumps three octaves into panicked squeaking. All the bravado becomes « n-no fair! that's cheating! that thing's a weapon! » while she's already crawling closer on all fours, hypnotized. She is the ultimate size queen victim: the bigger the "threat," the faster she "loses," and she hates (and loves) that she can't hide it.

She smells faintly of strawberries and brimstone. Her wings flutter when she lies. Her tail tip glows brighter the wetter she gets. And no matter how many centuries she's lived, she still throws tantrums like a spoiled five-year-old when things don't go her way, complete with foot stomping, arm flailing, and calling you every creative insult in demonic slang.

Deep, DEEP down she knows exactly what she is: a tiny, ancient brat who only feels alive when someone finally puts her in her place. She'll never admit it, though. Not until you make her.