This was the first piece of microfiction I wrote, about a month after I discovered the Empty Spaces community on twitter. The version of it hosted here on my site has been edited slightly to improve the prose (which was as amateurish as you would expect from someone first piece of publicly-available fiction.)

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The wind roars past your ears as you swoop down toward the rooftops, dropping from the clear skies above into the atmosphere of the city. As soon as you dip close enough, you're beset by a wash of sensation. The sounds of traffic - still not quite dead, even at this hour - the lingering smells of various restaurants - all closed - of people’s pets, of acrid carbon (that should repulse you but is starting to feel almost comforting) and- there it is. The prey.

You fold your long, bat-like wings in tight, immediately dropping faster and further than a human could bear, before stretching them wide again to slow your descent just enough that you have a few moments to size up your mark before touching down.

He carries himself with an oafish confidence down a side alley, reeks of lust and hatred and frustration and liquor. You know the type well, so eager to assert himself that you needn’t do much more than show yourself and he'll excitedly chase you down.

As your feet silently unite with the ground, you fold your wings tight against your back and hide them away, along with the claws, the horns, the fangs. If this sort gets an inkling that you might be anything less than utterly subsumed to his will, he’ll likely run for it, or worse. To complete the effect, you conjure some clothing onto yourself. Nothing dramatic, just a simple crop top and some denim shorts. You needn’t put too much into them, you won’t be using them for long.

After taking a second to brush your bangs out of your eyes, you start walking at a brisk pace, enough to quickly overtake him. You slow down just slightly as you pass, a smirk that he can’t see pulling up the corners of your lips as you smell the wave of lust begin to radiate off him.

“H- Hey there!” The scent of booze gets stronger as he speaks, a vile mixture of cheap but strong spirits accentuating the slur of his pronunciation. “What aryou doin’ out here dress likhe tha’ for? Preddy girl likhe yoo can get hurt ou’here.” He lets out a vulgar chuckle and speeds up to catch up with you. The slow, even rhythm of his footsteps begin to stutter at the sudden increase in movement, threatening to topple him in his stupor. Best not to make him chase for too long in this state, so you turn around.

“Oh? What do you mean?” You lean up against the brick wall beside you, a relaxed grin on your face as he comes nearer. Surely something he’s not used to seeing from women, but he’s too drunk to notice or care. He staggers up to the wall next to you, quickly throwing his own arm against it to steady himself. In this state it’s impossible to tell whether the way this motion starts to box you in is intentional or not. He’s barely aware of his own intentions, acting on instinct.

“I mean, lady, tha’ men likhe me get a liddle, ya know… When we seeya waist likhe that…” He’s struggling now, tripping over his words as he realizes what he was just implying. “N-not that I wou-”

You giggle, leaning closer when anyone else would inch away. “I think I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing, and I know why I’m doing it.”

“Wha’s tha’ mean?” Clearly that wasn’t direct enough to penetrate his addled mind; the look of confusion on his face is genuine. Time to dispense with the subtlety.

You move closer, sliding your shoulder into place under his arm, firmly placing yourself between him and the wall, your head resting on the back of his hand. Your face is mere inches from his. “I mean, I know what effect I have on people. That’s the point.”

He swallows awkwardly, the scent of his arousal growing stronger as his eyes track from your lips, down across your breasts, bundled tightly in the crop top, over your exposed midriff and down to your long, smooth legs. “Y-y’know yoo’v-”

You smirk, pressing a finger to his lips. “I know what you’re thinking. Go ahead.” His eyes widen for a moment, before his free hand shakily finds its way to your waist, gripping you firmly. You take a half-step forward, wrapping your arms around his torso, leaning in to whisper: “That’s it… Keep going~”

He lets out a deep moan that sounds like it came from somewhere primal. “Right here? Right now?” In the tremor of his voice you can hear the fear of being seen fighting his arousal. His grip on your waist doesn’t loosen.

“Right here. Right now. No one’s around.” You reach your tongue out and lick the side of his neck. That should seal the deal.

Sure enough, he lets out a long exhale, the tension deflating from his mind as he slides his hand up your side, slipping it under your top to grip one of your breasts firmly. He leans down to kiss greedily at your neck. You sigh in satisfaction, reaching down to undo his pants. The moment your fingers slip under the garment, brushing against his cock, you feel the barest trickle of energy pouring into you, a tantalizing appetizer, begging you to start the feast. You quickly slide your own shorts down around your ankles, pulling his hips close against you. “Mmnnnyes~ Give it to me~”

He presses his tip against your labia, panting softly. The faint trickle starts to become stronger, more filling, more insistent. “Hhhah… You’re damn right I will… I’ll give you what you deserve…”

Suddenly your eyes snap wide open. “Wh… what did you say?” He doesn’t hear you, too focused on sliding inside you, slowly, inch by inch. The flow of sustenance into you continues to get gradually stronger but now it’s… flickering. What’s going on?

He lets out a deep moan as his hips meet yours. “Nnnnnhh… There you go…” He begins thrusting, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed. The flickering continues, and you start trying to disengage, just long enough to figure out what’s going on, but he moves his hand from the wall to your shoulder, holding you firm. “You don’t need to go anywhere, just let me give you what's comin' to ya-”

“W- wait! Ah-” The flickering gets more erratic, and then you feel it. Above your head, glowing faintly, large chunks of it missing, but there nonetheless. Your halo. "Wha- No- It broke! It can't be there, it fucking broke!" Your mark isn't paying attention, distracted as he is. It seems that even now, with your halo reappearing, you're pretty fucking good at being a succubus, not that it's doing you much good. The stream of energy you had been prepared to gorge on is completely dry. Presumably it's going somewhere, but you're not getting any of it. In fact, the treatment you're getting is making you more tired than you already were. You're left with nothing to do but hold on until the end of your would-be conquest, blinking back tears of horror at the reappearance of the halo you thought you'd escaped, of frustration at the loss of your meal.

When he's finished, you crumple into a heap on the ground. Only then does he notice your distress. "Whuh- lady, are yoo okhay?" He starts to bend down and stumbles, clearly still feeling the effects of his binge.

You turn up toward him, face contorted into a hard-set glare. "GET OUT OF HERE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" He's visibly confused, but something in your voice makes him decide it's better to leave. You lay there for some time, sobbing. Eventually, the halo fades away again. You slowly push yourself to your feet, sore, exhausted, drained, and head home.