From the emerald flames of Hell, the complete self-termination and enlightenment-by-cessation of a warlock awakened the great pact-oni Shura from his nap (less so the physical interposition crashing a disintegrating body, moreso the spiritual dissolution and anti-erasure memory package given as sacrifice, for Hell's fires do not wish to forget). Chartreuse parted for vermillion, and a big-bellied giant demon with a fanged face imploded into a spritely lithe young reddish-skinned man. Brushing short black hair away from short red horns and glancing down to a boner, Shura was not particularly miffed by this situation but noted it as something worth caring about. Least they didn't bodhisattva or wheel-turning-sage-king this one TOO hard...
"Aw hell," he said simply, suddenly noting the slight wash-over feeling of additional horniness from the small environmental curses in Hell having whatever passed for drunk sex among immaterial concept existences. "At least it's sexual this time."
Somebody had fucked up, big time. Or maybe succeeded, if they wanted to expel all their maledictions and cease. At any rate, there was one big curse related to sex fucking about both figuratively and literally right now, and among the more nebulous of spirits that called for an orgy. Concentrating his will, Shura politely declined a large number of things more intense than the feeling of hands across his body as he floated out of the Gate of Annihilation toward a staff elevator, though he did give some absentminded cock strokes to the more physical passerby to maintain a reputation somewhere between distant, tease, and annoying enough to not bother fucking with above decorum while on duty. Sure, mindless sex was one thing, but a genius virtuoso's lovemaking could really do something. Shura himself was actually a 'free agent noble', the kind of demon that went where he wanted and did what he pleased, with no problems as long as the world remained nominally intact and rarely if ever compelled to service. However, he was pretty reliable with the rank and file demons who did work and curses who came from it, even deigning to fuck the damned from time to time in their mazes of weirdly sexual torment or self-destabilization-to-transcendence or sorting out messes from the games of other nobles. More importantly, he was competent at fixing things when they went belly-up and petitioning the high gods to unfuck it or move onto next iteration when something went out of hand beyond his considerable powers. Judging by the abstract calls for sex barraging his spirit sense like so many spam emails and HUD notifications, a humanity-wide change had gone down so this world was headed for the meme-dimension bin (or possibly apocalypse-cleanup in a few bil, if it didn't adapt and broke). Was fun while it lasted, but was looking like he'd have to start a committee for a new humanity, minimum. Maybe see if Nu Wa could spawn him a breeding population of humans-from-clay, then break into the orc-spore stock, some elf water, canned dwarf? Nature could be pretty easily spread-over to a new host body, maybe petition Ares and the coreshells to get a preserve on Mars set up with atmosphere barrier.
On reaching the elevator the only other physical occupant was a large ogreish oni from Accounting, so Shura gave him a blowjob on the ride up through the Hells of Assorted Fires and Ices, swallowing a load in exchange for a sloppy mutual handjob through the Underworld of Starry Caverns. Finally reaching the Gate of Ki-castle at the top, Shura rewarded the accountant with a cumshot on the chest and passed through the haphazard mix of office space and aesthetic nature spirit world that was the gate office. With a thumbs up to the indistinct undersecretary-subjudge in dark grey veil and darker grey robes manning the front desk (apparently one of less sexual proclivity, hence the complete concealment from all the festivity), the now-soft legendary Crimson Naked flared a thin halo of smokeless scarlet flame and shrunk down to a fairyform about the size of a small bird. He made himself invisible to the mundane and flitted between the great auburn-stained wood-paneled gates of one of Hell's many back doors, crossing the dimensional border to Earth and promptly said "Oh, fuck."
Though the hell gate shrine in the ambiguously located port towns of Okoyama, Japan somewhere were a bunch of immortalized humans fucking each other in the streets, some of them humans turned anthros, some of them uplifted domesticated animals turned into anthros or humans (curse logic, the fuzziest), a few of them out of context anime characters (looks like it had generated fictional humans to have sex? Needed to double-check that, if it'd meshed an imaginary-realization process this might escalate to Wheel Turning Sage King category after all due to cross-filing meme dimensions) the rest plain humans. Shura flitted about with renewed horniness and slightly less renewed concern. This was going to be a LOT of work....but could probably be filed in the meme dimension log. The curse saturating the world provided a perpetual haze of lust that while not as overriding for non-human intelligences was sure as hell willing to fuck them, and already Shura felt a new boner popping.
Maybe it WAS time to take a quick break. At least see how the world-curse was in bed. Psychosensors indicated contamination process would not escalate above acceptable bodymind lust increase due to curse directives (joy of joys, this wouldn't get in his way AND he could find it hot the entire time instead of being a clinical bore banging the occasional dude for fun). The oni sage stuck his right thumb in his mouth and blew (for the sake of a visual gag that usually made random scryers laugh, not necessity), causing him to float into the sky and explode into his muscular, fat, demon-faced upper-midscale kaiju form about 300 meters tall, coming to a rest mystically suspended above the buildings and trees so as to not crush anything. Black hair almost dense enough to be called fur glowed a dull crimson as it sprouted across his newly enlarged body, and Shura flexed his arms to get used to the new centers of balance and power. He could do bigger but it was mostly hollow except for lifting spells, smaller was often far more useful but this was suitable for easy-upscaling of sorcery. It did leave him feeling somewhere between a hot air balloon and an ascetic hovering just above a bed of needles so as to not test weight distribution, but he had a boner to deal with and that was more feeling-y. Why fuck the world when you could fuck the thing messing it up? Falling slowly onto his back and hovering above the land a bit higher in the process to avoid unnecessary wind (though it was also magically mitigated, go figure, you can look at the immortal humans fucking about later and best to preserve the structures), Shura concentrated spiritual energy in his dick and felt it increase in both size and sensitivity a bit above proportional. It was time to commune the way this curse wanted for every last human on earth: sex.
Pelvic thrust. The spiritual pressure was not crushing, but a form of notification, an intense gaze rather than intense weight. The 'come at me, bro' of great demons and great sportsmen alike, it resonated with the warlock's malediction and condensed in cyan particles around Shura's cock like a great gel-like vessel, sort of like fucking a fleshlight. Close enough. Shura could feel contact processes greeting his spirit and responding amicably to requests for information. Gripping the monstrosity gently with both hands, Shura began rubbing up and down at inconsistent speeds, physically probably-not-just-masturbating while mentally engaged in complex combinations of both scientific factfinding and theological politicking-prep. The changes to human biology and magical processes flashed before him and were stored as so much data. He telepathically related them to the kinds of information-efficiency-boosting curses who liked to discuss such things and come up with plans Shura could whisper to gods as sweet nothings while being plowed in the ass. The volume and complexities of information so exchanged are beyond what is useful to describe to humanity, but it was something analogous to a business meeting of several people between two companies where all attendants were having an orgy and sharing technical information when mouths weren't going down on somebody.
Eventually, what was necessary to exchange was exchanged and some plans that ensured first contact and starting diplomacy for future world-changes were put into action before Shura had even felt sufficiently satisfied. After some more mental fucking, the physical component concluded with a powerful orgasm sufficient to fill the fleshlight-emanation of the curse and spray radiant white semen in excess of it. The excess cum was left floating in the air like suspended cream and spray droplets to avoid getting in Shura's fur or causing a flood in the streets (though frankly a big cum bath now without safety hazards would probably happen somewhere eventually), but the fleshlight manifested cilia and tiny absorber-things to drink up what it had been filled with and give Shura some further stimulation licks, before deciding formalities had been concluded, bidding him spiritually good day, and dispersing back into light.
Shura shrugged, dismissed his excess floating cum to the storage barrels of some suitably thirsty slut in hell who'd been asking for a humorously large supply of it anyway, and collapsed back down into his lithe human-size avatar and floated down to the streets to inspect matters more personally now that his professional obligations were advanced enough.