That kinda is, how it would go down if everyone would have a superpower! I don't know why you are downvoted. I loved it. Take my upvote!

here is something similar

dk why this is down voted, people on here have standards that are higher than they should be.

The hulking form of an archdemon loomed over me where I lay in my plush bed, the comforter pulled up to my chin. I could smell his sulfurous breath, an almost tangible thing, as it washed over my form with his deep breathing. "Didn't I... Send you home last night?" I wheezed, reaching blindly to my bedside table to brush my fingers against the magic lantern that immediately began to glow, spreading a warm light across the terrible visage before me. "What... What are you wearing?!"

The archdemon was massive, his skin red and blistered, muscle stacked on muscle, the hoary head of a boar with beady black eyes staring down at me with a hunger I'd rarely seen before, saliva smeared across his tusks, dangerous horns coiled back over his porcine ears. That was all normal... The apron was new. It didn't fit him, the usually long neck strap was stretched wide around his neck and the flap fluttered against his chest, the ties hanging loose as they were too short to fit around his massive barrel chest. "AN APRON." He answered, lifting breakfast tray which was laden with foods and setting it across my lap as I coughed, unsure if I should laugh or not.

"I SAW YOU WERE ILL SO I MADE YOU TEA." The hellbeast rumbled as his meaty hands reached down to lift up the delicate tea pot and pour a cup of something herbal. "Since wh-when do you make tea?" I took the cup anyway, it wasn't as if he could harm me, given our pact, though I was no less puzzled as I sipped it. He'd added lemon and honey. My mother didn't even do that. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. Aseriaforth, thirteenth Duke of the seventh Hell, had been acting more and more strangely as of late. Nothing nefarious, just odd. Lingering after battles to help load up the wagon. Cheerfully sticking around to heckle and harass our enemies during a siege. I should have been really tipped off when I jokingly told him to go play hide and seek with some orphans we'd rescued and found him hiding (poorly) in some bushes an hour later. And now tea with lemon and honey. He'd even seemed almost upset (though it was hard to tell with his lack of human face) when I'd told him I was easing into retirement, having ousted my step-father from his rule and taken it over myself as the rightful heir.

Considering for a moment, I sipped my tea, Aseriaforth looming over me in a way that would have been disconcerting had he been anyone else. Licking my lips, I tried to start the conversation delicately but instead began to cough, the hellbeast carefully taking the teacup from me so I wouldn't spill it. Drawing in a few whooping breaths, I centered myself and tried again. "Is there some reason you've been... unusually helpful?" Aseriaforth straightened up, handing me my cup back. Did he look embarrassed? "I AM BOUND TO YOUR SERVICE." The demon growled, sounding very much as though he were trying to hide something.

"Don't skirt the issue, Aseriaforth." I cleared my throat and finished my tea, it was pleasantly warming. "Our pact only states that you must do my bidding. I have summoned you sparingly, only as I must to achieve my goals, and yet each time you've remained well after I've relieved you of your duties at the time." The demon was definitely squirming now. I'd seen him rip unholy knights limb from limb in battle, stare down hordes of barbarians, and wrestle a dire bear, but now he was squirming like a child who had been caught sneaking cookies. I raised a finger as I set the empty cup down on the tray, "Furthermore, why is a Duke of the Seventh Hell wearing an apron and making me tea?!"

He was definitely squirming. I stared at him from my plush sickbed of pillows, reaching for one of the small cakes he'd placed on the tray, wondering firstly, how he'd known that the rosewater ones were my favorite, and where on earth he'd gotten them at this ungodly hour. Staring him down seemed to be working as his ears laid back and his shoulders hunched briefly before drooping in defeat, "I DO NOT WISH TO GO HOME." I continued to stare at him, pointedly licking the buttercream from my fingers. Giving a sulfurous sigh, he finally spilled the beans, "THERE IS A WAR OF SUCCESSION ON MY HOME PLANE. IT HAS RAGED SINCE BEFORE THE DAYS OF YOUR GREAT-GREAT-GREAT GRANDSIRE. I AM TIRED OF WAR. YOUR PETTY TROUBLES AND BATTLES ARE REFRESHING. I NO LONGER WISH TO LEAVE SO I HAVE AVOIDED DOING SO WHEN YOU'VE DISMISSED ME." The demon still seemed to have at least some of his pride as he didn't beg me to let him stay, but his eyes certainly had a certain pleading look that I may have been merely imagining.

"So... You would like to stay here rather than go home and participate in this long war." I held my cup still so that he could refill it for me, sniffling as my nose started to finally drain. The demon nodded as he held the delicate teapot in one huge hand. Drawing in a huge breath, trying not to cough, failing briefly, and then trying again, I let it out and sipped my second cup of tea, feeling the warmth spread through me. "I can allow you to stay here but you'll have to remain within the scope of the pact. It can be minorly rewritten but can't be broken until my natural death." I reminded him. Looking down at the spread of teacakes and herbal tea I smiled, "Have you considered being my butler?"

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Hi! May i convince you to write a part 2 with a little bit of knowledge? Because you know, in some settings a succubus kiss does indeed kill and steal the soul of the recipient, but if it is a kiss of true love (like this seem to be) and survives it (mayhaps some preparation ritual?) then the "victim" instead becomes into a greater vampire thats immortal, food for thought

The forest glistened in few as a new season dawned upon us. The first days of spring hath arrived, and the gleaming sunlight sparklers through the oak trees, as the warlock traveled the old mountain path.

But suddenly, a humongous horde of Oka Goblins emerged. The Warlock says:

“Arise, my promised friend!”

Suddenly, a demon, 12 feet in height emerged through a golden portal, and began to launch spells. The warlock and the demon fought off the goblins, and destroyed the pack. As the dust settled and the dust dried, the warlock spoke.

“Old friend, I have a query.”

“What, friend?”

“What are those new beguiling marks that lays upon your eye and chin?”

The demon hesitated to spoke.

“Is the revolution still ongoing?”

“Alas, it is. I was robbed by some fiendishly sneaky Government Agents. I got my revenge, but I may no longer see out of this eye.”

The warlock was outraged by this news.

“SERIOUSLY?! GODS, THAT GOVERNMENT IS BESMIRCHED IN TYRANNY AND VILENESS UNCOUNTED!”

“Yes, I know. I’m in the Revolution, for gods sakes. You know this. Sometimes, however, I wish I could just take a break and escape, even if for a small moment.”

“I know. But you and I are aware of the contract. At max, You or I can summon each other for 2 weeks.”

“Yes, I know. The lakes of gold and stringy leaves are a pleasantry, but not when it’s always on fire.”

“Well… you got two weeks. I’ll see what I can show you up here.”

“Really?! Thank you, old friend. I’ll be sure to cherish it. Truly, this means more than you could possibly know.”

“Anytime. Now, first things first, do you wanna stop by a magic store, or something? I don’t believe Dragons exist in your realm, do they? I’ll see if I can find you a dragon egg.”

“YOU WOULD!? I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED A PET!!”

“Oh yeah, they’re pretty rare, but the lady down there owns a farm of them. And she still owes me for saving her farm from bandits.”

“I simply MUST have you meet my sister, Atrea. She owns an extra Chimera E. She may be willing to give it to you, should you ever visit.”

“Of course, I would love to visit! But is it safe with the rebellion?”

“Yes, it just depend on where you go.”

“I’ll hold you to that!”

“Please do, old friend.”

Dude.

This prompt is basically the Dresden Files.

The sounds of battle reached my ears, echoing from down the hall as Miriel sprinted into the room. She slammed the door shut behind her and then turned towards me, fear and resolve mingling in her eyes.

“They’ve breached the keep. I don’t know how many of our men are left, but it doesn’t matter. There’s a never-ending sea of orcs waiting for their turn to spill blood, we couldn’t beat them if half the kingdom were here.”

“I have something better than half the kingdom.” I closed my eyes and began to mumble incantations, ignoring her as she insisted that even my magic couldn’t possibly be enough to hold the western front against the greenskins.

There was pounding on the door as Miriel turned away from me and drew her sword, ready to face the onslaught. A huge orc with a battleaxe bust through the door and was immediately decapitated by the trusty knight. I tuned it all out as I screamed out the final words of the rite.

“Infernus, aeterne dominus belli, vocatus adesto. Ferrum trahe quod quinque dominos ad calcem magni daemonis attulit, et accende flammas quae patrem tuum in cineres verterunt. Procedite, Acerith!”

The castle shimmered and fell away, disappearing like a mirage. Me and Miriel were lifted into the sky like eagles on the warm updraft of the sea of flame spreading beneath us. There was no smoke, and the flame’s light was dim, yet it spread and consumed all. Hundreds of thousands of hardened warriors screamed silent calls to demons that would not dare to answer in Acerith’s presence, screaming until their throats were raw and not making as much sound as the songbirds in the trees.

“This is impossible! Miriel gasped, “no mortal could ever hold dominion over a demon powerful enough to do something like this!”

“I don’t need to hold dominion. He comes of his own accord.” The flame spread across the mountainside and consumed all those who would harm me, then was suddenly snuffed out, leaving a thick layer of ash that made the mountains look as if they were carved from obsidian. Simply by his willing it, the fort was reformed and Miriel was lowered to the ground while I was placed upon the keep’s tower. Acerith appeared beside me.

“Oh demon lord, I’ve been dying for a damned breather!” He tried to lean against the tower’s balcony, but it only came up to his waist and he ended up sitting on it instead.

“How’s the war been treating you?”

“It’s the same as it has been for eternity, the other demons can’t seem to put together that a bunch of immortals fighting serves absolutely zero purpose! They still act like decapitating each other is an actual victory and not a momentary delay!”

“Damn. How’ve things been with your father?”

“Don’t even get me started on my father! Every day he repeats the same bullshit about how if we joined forces we’d be able to end the Great War, then starts trying to gore me! He doesn’t seem to realize that stabbing me isn’t a convincing argument! I wish you summoned me more often, this is the first time in two years I’ve had more than a minute between challengers.”

“I know, and I would if I could, but the stupid contract specifically says I can only call you in my darkest hour. That doesn’t exactly come up often you know.”

“You need to piss off some more dragons, or infiltrate another cult to the Incomprehensible Ones. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t get out of hell at least once in the next year. Ooh, I know, you need to visit another one of those elven bars!”

“That was ONE DAMN TIME! I was DRUNK! It’s not like I’m going to accidentally flirt with the queen TWICE!”

Acerith bust out laughing, but suddenly stopped as he began to fade away. He tried to say his goodbyes, but he was already beyond my hearing, and so we waved as the cosmos dragged him back to hell’s eternal battlefield. It would probably be some time before we met again, but I figured I might as well make an effort. At the dawn I set off for the coast, hoping that the rumors of kraken were true and that I could call him again.

Wait so he created the world that the demons came from? If so fuckin neato

Wait so he created the world that the demons came from? If so fuckin neato

I stumbled to my feet using the couch as a support. My entire body felt like it was more stimulated. I realized I could feel the light breeze as it whispered across my skin. I could feel each step as my foot fell between the plushy threads of the carpet. I could taste the sunrays that spilled shadows across the floor. They tasted like lavender and mint. The shadows waved against the bumpy carpet like the crashing of waves in a mighty storm.

I was here and yet…

I reached my hand out, spreading my fingers. There was still evidence of the scribbled note on my hand and it creased as I opened and closed my fingers. Now that Klara had explained it, I could feel a link. Something far off, like a light at the end of a very long tunnel. There was something not quite right about my body and that was because it wasn’t truly mine.

This existence was not mine.

Thank fucking God.

“Ammon!” Klara said, she had her hand in the hallway closet, her eyes widely looking at me. “Come on! You’re probably still feeling the effects of the elixir. Try to snap out of it.”

“I feel weird.” I said as I took an unsteady step forwards.. “It’s like I’m in so many places all at the same time. Hey, what’s ‘Her’ah?”

Crash!

Bang!

I jumped as many hard objects flew cross the room and hit me. I shielded my head and then glanced around nervously. Metal objects of different shapes and sizes laid at my feet and a metal decoration had been pulled off the wall and towards me. But Klara found the studs and it was hanging in midair, as if being lifted by a ghost breeze. I giggled. Klara stomped towards me and grabbed my arm tightly in her hand.

“I should’ve waited to give that to you,” she said, but she was smiling a little bit, I saw it.

“What was that?”

“A spell,” Klara said with what I suspected to be annoyance lacing through her tone. “Try to be careful before you just say things. Write the spells you think of down first and I’ll tell you what they do.”

“Okay,” I said, clearly half-listening.

“I mean it,” she said as she pushed me into the closet just as I was beginning to be mesmerized by a painting. I swear the people were moving as if it were a true window to a different reality. She pushed me through the closet door forcefully.

Smack!

The arm of a leather jacket hit me in the side of the head and I waved the coats away as they attacked me ferociously. The back door of the closet had swung open revealing a spiraling staircase. Odin was standing at the top of the stairs, his mouth happily open and his bright pink tongue hanging out.

“Hey,” I said as I squeezed past him with suspicion. I took his chin in my hand and looked deeply into his hazel eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be a lion?”

Odin licked my face and wagged his tail. It thumped against the wooden steps in a light rhythm.

“What have they done to you?” I said, then started giggling again. Klara encouraged me down a few more stairs and then closed the closet door, or rather, the door in the closet behind us and a lock clicked into place. Klara turned and nodded down the stairs.

“Okay,” she said, “Any time now.”

I didn’t move. I was too captivated by how the shadows played on the wall. “Right, don’t mind me. Please, keep staring blankly and giggling.”

“Odin is supposed to be a lion!” I said with a deep laugh as I turned to walk down the stairs. My hand traced a wavy line along the stones as I went. I sang a song that I must have heard somewhere about the mighty lion who lost his mane in a bet with a wee mouse.

Down, down, down we went. I was beginning to wonder if this path was endless when a stone floor revealed itself. The room was a cube, about the size of an average bedroom. There were desks lining the walls and with many different plants on their surfaces. Beakers connected with tubes and filled with shimmering liquid bubbled over yellow and blue flames. Different colored lightbulbs shone against the walls, creating rainbows that smiled at me.

This looked like the lair of a great Alchemist.

“You’re an Alchemist,” I said as Klara closed the door at the bottom of the stairs, locked it, and turned to me with a deep release of air from her lungs. She nodded and walked towards me. She pushed my hair off my cheek and nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “I am.”

“You’re very good.” I said, “This stuff is fun.”

“I bet it is,” Klara said with a sweet tone. Her eyes softened as she gazed at my face. “I prefer your hair longer.”

“Me too,” I said. Klara leaned forwards, hesitated, and let my hair fall from her hand. I got this intense feeling that she wanted to kiss me and show me deep affection but she was being distant. Unlike with Jennifer and Claudia, I wished she would treat me like we were more familiar. Odin rested his head on my knee and wagged his tail. Klara was back to work, mixing some liquids together and admiring them under bright lights.

“Right,” she said, handing me the light purple liquid. “This should sober you up a bit.” She grabbed a journal and shoved it onto my lap with a pen. “Write down everything you think you remember in here. Don’t cast any spell that you’re unsure of what it will do. The last thing I need is to be blown up here before we can get you out."
“How am I getting out?”

“That was part one of three elixirs you will need to drink,” Klara said and then tossed me a regretful glance. “Sorry, they don’t taste great but they will help you begin to unweave yourself from Jennifer’s influence. Once you can pass a basic memory test you will be distant enough from her for your consciousness to escape back into your body through the portal.” I sipped the liquid, it tasted much better, like grass and flower petals.

“Then I need to be able to physically get away,” I said. Klara nodded.

“It will be tricky, but…” she leaned against a desk. “One thing you need to know about yourself is you are very strong and powerful. You are a match for Jennifer in a diminished state and arguably better than her when you’re at your best. Before we leave I will help instruct you on the spells you can use to break your binds. After that you’ll need to get to the door Shelia and I are trying to infiltrate.” I drank the rest of the liquid and nodded.

“Okay,” I said, “Sounds like the odds are stacked against me.” I grinned, “But I always perform best when the odds are against me.”

“There’s the Ammon I remember,” Klara said.

- End Part Nine

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Thank you.

I have always been lactose intolerant, so I have a lot of diarrhea. And it's a lot of diarrhea. I'll be honest with you, it is not fun at all. It is very... splashy.

But it's worth it. It tastes so good, I can't help myself. And don't even get me started on superpowers. I just wish one of those superpowers could be to always have solid poops and no gas.

I didn't know what was going on at first. When I was a kid, I think the only cheese I ate was Kraft singles and the cheese on pizza, so I didn't realize my powers were cheese-correlated. It wasn't until I had my first brie that I realized I got super strength right after. And then then I had a cube of smoked cheddar and laser beams shot out of my eyes.

It took a while, but I finally got teleportation and that made things infinitely easier. I could now travel internationally and try and cheese I wanted. I got more powerful by the second.

Heroes feared me. I don't really know why. Yes I had an unfathomable amount of superpowers. But the only crime I really committed was stealing different cheeses. And I know that is still a crime, it is still stealing, but I wasn't holding governments hostage. I wasn't murdering children. I was just stealing and eating cheeses. These heroes must have better things to do, right? Maybe the heroes are secretly owned by the cheese corporations. Or cheese lobbyists are putting pressure on politicians to get the heroes to stop me. Is it a conspiracy? Is big cheese in cahoots with the government and the superheroes?

I think more likely they fear what could happen if I get too many powers? Maybe they think I will take the world hostage and there would be nobody to stop me? Which is kinda already true, I'm so powerful that nobody could stop me from doing whatever I want. But I'm not doing anything. I don't want to beat this dead horse into the ground, but my crime is just stealing cheese.

Well, once I was flying and had emergency diarrhea and pooed over a small town. That was gross. Sorry Huntingville.

Proof?

This made me think of something: where it does tend to be mostly a constant din, have the din start annoying, then the character eventually acclimates to it to an extent. Then, for some reason, there's a break in the sound, and the character gets the sweet relief of silence, forgetting how nice that feels. Then as soon as they get used to peace and quiet--it starts up again.

Once upon a time, there was a supervillain named Jack who was feared by all the heroes in the land. Jack had an endless array of powers that he had acquired over the years, and no one seemed to be able to stop him.

However, what the heroes didn't know was that Jack's true superpower was his ability to gain new powers by eating different types of cheese. Jack had discovered this strange ability by accident one day when he was eating a slice of cheddar and suddenly felt an immense surge of strength and energy.

From that day on, Jack devoted himself to seeking out and eating the most powerful cheeses in the world. He traveled to far-off lands and braved dangerous cheesemongers to find the rarest, most potent varieties.

As Jack's powers grew, so did his reputation as a formidable supervillain. He became feared and respected by his fellow villains and feared by the heroes. But Jack knew the truth about his powers, and he kept it a closely guarded secret.

One day, Jack was confronted by a group of heroes who had finally figured out his secret. They laughed at him and mocked him, thinking that his reliance on cheese was a weakness.

But Jack knew better. He smiled at the heroes and reached into his pocket, pulling out a chunk of the rarest, most powerful cheese in the world. As he ate it, he felt his powers surging within him, and he knew that he would be able to defeat the heroes once and for all.

And so, with a fierce determination and a full belly of cheese, Jack faced off against the heroes and emerged victorious. From that day on, he was known as the cheese-eating supervillain, feared by all who crossed his path.

As the years passed, Jack's reputation as the cheese-eating supervillain only grew. He became known throughout the land as the most powerful villain around, and no hero dared to challenge him.

But despite his fearsome reputation, Jack was a solitary figure. He had no friends or allies, and he spent most of his time alone, traveling the world in search of new and powerful cheeses.

One day, Jack stumbled upon a small village in a remote corner of the world. The villagers were poor and oppressed, living in fear of a cruel and tyrannical ruler. Jack saw an opportunity to use his powers for good, and he decided to take on the tyrant and free the village from his rule.

Using all of his strength and cunning, Jack fought against the tyrant and his minions, and eventually emerged victorious. The villagers rejoiced and hailed Jack as their savior, and he was hailed as a hero for the first time in his life.

From that day on, Jack dedicated himself to using his powers for good, and he became a hero in his own right. He traveled the land, fighting against evil and injustice wherever he found it, always with a full belly of cheese to give him strength.

And so, the cheese-eating supervillain became a hero, feared and respected by all who knew him.

At first I was like "oh no, a succubus tale..." then I was like "oh god my poor little heart."

It would be my perfect power: I love cheese

Focus on showing the effect the noise and hassle is having on your characters. How do they feel, what are they doing? In what way is the traffic impeding their task. Maybe they peeled their fingers from the wheel one by one only to find their hands still ache from clenching it so hard. maybe they rest their head against the cool glass of the window for a moment to try and relieve the noise-induced headache only to flinch as the car right next to them honked.

This is in addition to the suggestions others have made. Although I'd advise against too much onomatopeia as it doesn't usually induce annoyance in the reader so much as make the story unreadable.

And don't forget plenty of paragraph breaks. Every time someone has to stop talking and start again, start a new paragraph. Too often writers try to keep all the speaking to a single paragraph until the speaker changes, but feel free to interrupt. It makes the dialogue flow better and shows the feeling of tedium the characters are feeling with being constantly interrupted.

If you can, find someplace noisy to hang out for a bit. Doesn't have to be traffic, just someplace loud and busy. Then imagine your characters there while you're hearing and feeling all the noise and bustle. make some notes about how that situation feels. You might also try to look up some traffic sounds on youtube or wherever and play them at a high volume while you write that scene to help set the mood.

This is your 12 hour notice.

As a warlock, I had always been drawn to the dark arts. I was fascinated by the power and mystery of the arcane, and I yearned to unlock its secrets. So when I came across an ancient tome containing the ritual to form a pact with a demon, I knew I had to try it.
I spent months studying the incantations and preparing myself for the rite. And finally, on a dark and stormy night, I summoned a powerful demon known as Xarxes.
Xarxes was a formidable being, with skin as black as coal and eyes that burned with an otherworldly fire. But as soon as I spoke the final words of the ritual, I could feel a connection forming between us. It was as if a piece of my soul had been fused with his, creating a bond that could never be broken.
From that moment on, Xarxes was my constant companion. Whenever I needed him, all I had to do was call his name and he would appear before me, ready to do my bidding.
But as powerful as Xarxes was, he was also a prisoner. His home was a place of war and darkness, a realm of endless conflict and suffering. And so the times that I summoned him were the only solace he received from the brutal struggle that raged within his home place.

Together, we fought countless battles and vanquished many foes. And as the years passed, I came to see Xarxes as more than just a servant or a tool. He was my ally, my friend, and a source of great strength and guidance.
Despite the danger and risk that came with our pact, I knew that I could never give him up. For in a world full of darkness and despair, Xarxes was the light that kept me going.

As our bond grew stronger, I began to realize that there was more to our relationship than just a pact of power. Despite the fact that we were from different worlds and belonged to different species, I found myself falling in love with Xarxes.
At first, I tried to resist my feelings. After all, I knew that a relationship between a warlock and a demon was taboo and could bring about all sorts of danger and complications. But try as I might, I couldn't deny the way my heart fluttered whenever I saw him, or the way my soul ached when we were apart.
Eventually, I mustered up the courage to confess my love to Xarxes. To my surprise, he responded with a deep and passionate embrace, revealing that he felt the same way.
From that moment on, we were inseparable. We spent every moment we could together, exploring new realms and facing new challenges. And despite the obstacles and dangers that came our way, our love only grew stronger with each passing day.
I knew that our love was unconventional and that it might never be accepted by the outside world, but I didn't care. All that mattered to me was that I had found my soulmate in Xarxes, and together we were unstoppable.