End: Half of the Internet

Blaze blinked, her infernal brain briefly unable to process this information.

"What?" the demonic dickgirl said.

"Honey, you're an abomination in the eyes of God. A Satanic shemale with fully functioning cock, balls, and cunt," Lois Lane explained briefly. "Half the Goth girls in Metropolis would throw their virgin pussies at you just to piss off their parents. There are thousands of virile young men on the internet that are fapping themselves blind to chicks with dicks and horns right now. You may never win the Miss Universe pageant, but for a sizable subset of the internet you are walking sex! People would pay you to corrupt them with your sticky black jizz. Would-be Satanists that would offer their every hole for your cock."

Blaze blinked again.

"I understand all of those words, but...I do not desire cultists! I don't want people to fuck me just because I am a corrupt and broken thing with a twisted libido to match their darkest desires! I...want...someone to want me for me!"

The demon's generous mouth set in a pout. One errant fang poked up past her lip.

Lois Lane sighed. "You want romance."

"Yes," Blaze said.

"You want someone to share your innermost thoughts and feelings with," Lois added.

"Yes!" Blaze said.

"A soulmate, a helpmeet, a devoted and loving partner," Lois Lane went on.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Blaze nodded her horned head vigorously.

"Who will drain your balls every single day without fail," Lois said.

"Ye—wait, what?" The demon's face twisted into confusion again.

"Look, relationships take work," the reporter said. "And I don't mean elaborate cockamamy schemes where you trap women in caverns to fuck them under false pretenses. I mean dating. Listening. Helping. You only get what you give. If all you want is someone to drain your monstrous prick every day, that's something you go and pay a whore for. If you want friendship with benefits, a real fuckbuddy, then you need to be open and honest about that."

Blaze digested this carefully. When she spoke again, her voice was small and frail.

"Will you be my fuckbuddy?"

Lois Lane glowered. If they hadn't already been fucking, the reporter would have laughed. As it was.

"On conditions. If we're fucking, you're not being evil. All this business at the club, it ends. Deal?"

"Deal!" Blaze said. The demon snapped her fingers...and in a disorienting moment as if a page had been turned or two pieces of film had been spliced together, Lois Lane found herself back in her own apartment, in her own bed, with the mismatched scarlet succubus right next to her. The demon's hard dick was digging into the reporter's stomach, drooling into the reporter's navel.

"We are going to have to talk about boundaries," Lois Lane said. "And no getting me pregnant!"

Blaze smiled that lopsided smile...but she only said mischievously. "We can talk about it."

That was the end of Lois Lane's night out, and the beginning of a new and difficult friendship. One punctuated by messy orgasms and real talk about the nature of friendship and romance; date nights and sitcom-level misunderstandings. Yet it was a friendship which, in the end, both demon and human would profit from...

...but that is a different story.