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Chapter Text

Frank likes dogs, he really does. They're loyal and obedient with the right training. They don't judge him for his choice of life style and they love him no matter what.

But Frank never thought he'd ever get a puppy girl in his hands to care for. I mean, it makes it sound like she fell off the sky right in his arms. But she was simply an accident, he rescued her from mutant traffickers. He wanted to phone 911 and leave her alone, but she grabbed him with the strength of ten men and would not let go.

Frank's not sure what possessed her to latch onto him like she did, but maybe she somehow knew she'd be safest with him. Anyway, Frank took her back to his hide out, in the basement of an abandoned apartment complex, and tried to no avail to get her to leave for weeks.

Frank tried to talk to her, even though she didn't talk back, he's not sure if she's mute, or just chooses to not speak. All he knows is that she must know English because she understands him just fine when he tells her to stay away from the guns attached to the walls.

He tried to be nice at first, trying to explain that he was a vigilante, considered a criminal, he was legally dead for God sake, that he was not equipped to take care of her, even though she was an adult, a young woman still but she's too adorable that he always thinks of her as a puppy in his head, especially with the fluffy floppy ears and the matching tail.

When all she would do was stare at him with big sparkly eyes, Frank decided to switch tactics. He'd leave on longer and longer missions, hoping that once he gets back to his hide out she'd be gone, having gotten bored of waiting for him to be back. But she doesn't leave, and worst of all, she doesn't even make a mess or touch his stuff while he's gone, so Frank can't even be angry with her or kick her out, because she's been nothing but obedient.

So he tries to scare her, by telling her directly what could happen to her if anyone was to find she was affiliated with him, in graphic details to really instill how serious he was. He shouts at her and angrily pace around the room, trying to intimidate her, and she just stares at him with big eyes, sitting crisscross on his cot wearing one of his t-shirts and loose shorts he found in a donation bin for her.

Now, if she was anyone else, she'd be shitting bricks, but for some reason she wasn't even flinching when Frank was waving his gun around, telling her where she'll get shot if anyone got her hands on her.

Nothing happens.

She keeps staring at him and Frank throws his gun on the table and marches right up to her, he slips his hands under her armpits and lifts her off his bed.

She's limp in his hold, he shakes her a little, to try to get the point home. But when she lifts her hand and Frank thinks that she may hit him, she brings it to her mouth, he sees her sharp teeth grow bigger and sharper in real time as she bites her hand hard.

Blood drips down his own chest and his eyes are wide, "What the fuck?"

Frank puts her naked feet on the cold ground and steps back, about to fetch the first aid kit so he can stitch her hand and scold her, maybe make her sit on the corner. But she grabs his arm with her other hand and sticks her bloody hand in front of his face. Frank frowns, looking at the mess of jagged skin and blood, until he sees the skin slowly close itself back up.

So, she heals.

Puppy looks a little proud of herself and Frank keeps staring at the hand in confusion. When the wound fully heals, she brings that hand to her mouth and starts licking the blood off, attempting to clean it.

Frank grunts and snatches her hand back, away from her face, "Don't do that, I buy soap for a reason,"

She stares at him and he swears she's smirking a little, dragging her hand back to her face, and Frank pulls it back, fighting against it. But it isn't working, the harder Frank struggles, the bigger her smirk grows as she drags his whole body across the floor to just lick at her bloody fingers. His boots scrape the floor and Frank's sweating a little, he's scared too, not because she was stronger than him and could kill him. But because his heart was hammering in his chest and he realised he wanted her to stay, from the moment she slept in his cot that first night for twenty four hours straight until now.

Frank grins before he's even realising it, "Okay, alright, you heal real fast and you're stronger than me,"

She grins back at him, a big smile full of teeth.

Frank lets her hand go and he runs his fingers through his hair, "If you want to stay we have to set some rules; I don't like freeloaders, you've been living in here for weeks and you need to find a way to contribute and make yourself useful, alright?"

She frowns a little, confused, because she's been cleaning after him these past few weeks and keeping the place as nice as possible, while respecting his space and work.

Frank seems to somehow have read her mind so he rubs the back of her neck, "I know you've been cleaning this dump, and that's— Surely you want to do something else, you need your own clothes, you can't keep wearing my t-shirts forever, and you need shoes—" Frank groans, realising she hasn't had a pair of shoes for weeks. She hasn't left the hide out once she's been here, so she didn't really need shoes but still.

"Let me tell you this; tomorrow you'll make a list of everything you know how to do and we'll go from there, yeah?" Frank tells her and she nods until a thought crosses his mind.

"You know how to write? Can you read?" Frank feels a little bad asking her about something like but he has to know.

She confidently nods and he nods back, relieved, until he frowns, "Why did you never write to tell me something? You like making me guess what you want?"

Puppy rolls her eyes and shrugs, waving a hand towards him, "Oh, so just because I never asked you never thought to offer?"

She nods, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest, not taking him seriously.

Frank shakes his head and grabs her hand, and this time she doesn't pull when he drags her to the sink to wash her blood stained hand.

Chapter Text

Frank Castle.

The Punisher.

The only man in NYC amongst vigilantes who doesn't care about hiding his face.

You'll see Karma in his face, you'll see your weighted sins in the reflection of his dark eyes when he guts you or bashes your head into a wall.

He's violent, he's chaos and a man on a unholy crusade.

He's a one man army, terrifying to cross on his own right. Even special forces struggle to take him down, you could plaster his face all over the city and scumbags wouldn't even have the chance to run away once they make eye contact with the skull painted on his chest.

Frank's some sort of monster. Like an urban legend, just a very real one, one that's talked about in police station's changing rooms and in prison cells.

No one's even sure if he's truly human either, mutants exist, doesn't mean everyone believes in that reality, but the man can't seem to die, or stay dead. It makes him even that more terrifying, especially to gang members or those who're really, really bad, because he doesn't make it a secret that he'll come for you, one way or another.

Even then, he's loved, admired, worshipped even to some degree.

A lot of people see him as a merciful and just force that finally came to serve real justice. It doesn't matter if it's in small flats in front of a TV, in school hallways or down at the gas station, people see his grizzly work in pixels, in TV screens and on tiny screens in their hands. It's clear that Frank's work was seen as right.

He was the Boogeyman the bad guys whispered about.

Frank was someone that finally, finally, actually puts an end to criminals' tyranny by putting a bullet in their skull, so NYC's civilians can sleep easy knowing a notorious and terrible person was six feet under, or at least, what was left of them.

But what a lot of people don't know is that half of his work, or at least these past few months, haven't been done alone. Frank has been accompanied by a new little friend, a half feral mutant girl who wouldn't let him leave the dump he rescued her from without her. He killed the people who took her hostage, phoned 911 and was about to leave her in their care but she held onto him with the grip of ten men, and no matter how much Frank tried talking to her or shaking her off, she wouldn't let go. He contemplated hitting the back of her head with his gun, but her puppy dog eyes paralysed him.

So Frank headed home with an armful of sleepy mutant woman who didn't speak a word but instead made all sorts of noises from the second gunfire started until Frank unchained her.

Home was the basement of an abandoned apartment complex, or at least until the city decides to either fix it up or demolish it.

At first Frank tried very hard to convince the girl to leave him be and go find herself somewhere safe to live, anywhere but with him. But she wouldn't leave, even when Frank tried giving her money and dropping her off at the bus station, she just came right back. At some point, he just gave up because he had better things to pour his energy on than trying to chase away a cute mutant girl with the fluffiest, floppiest ears and tail. If she wanted to stay, so be it.

That first night back in his hide out, he didn't have the heart to wake her up so he placed her on his military style cot to sleep the exhaustion off. The girl slept for almost twenty-four hours straight, he was concerned by hour eight and had to check if she was still alive. Frank didn't sleep a wink that evening, he was exhausted but couldn't bring himself to take out his sleeping bag and get in it on the floor, next to his occupied bed.

Chapter Text

"Hey, pup," Frank greeted in the darkness of the basement he's been living in. He was laying on his back on his cot, with his puppy girl on the floor, by his side, on a mattress, tucked in Frank's spare sleeping bag.

He doesn't hear anything at first, then he hears shuffling from next to him, which means she's turning to face him.

"Did something happen to you that made it so you can't talk?"

Silence stretches between the two until there's more shuffling, the sound of a zipper getting unzipped and Frank knows she's opening the sleeping bag to get out of it. He doesn't move, even when the cot creaks at the added weight and he feels her settle on top of his thighs, settling her whole weight on him.

"Hey," He breathes out when she leans down and his hands automatically go to grab her thighs, her skin naked and sleep warm.

She grabs one of his hands in hers and he lets her bring it to her face. Her warm breath fans over his fingers and she opens her mouth properly, sticking his index and middle finger in her mouth.

Frank frowns a little, watching her —in the little light the moon provided them— push his fingers deeper in her mouth, and then she tilts her head back and the pads of his fingers hit the roof of her mouth, if it was very hard and smooth.

Frank's frown deepens in confusion the more he feels around, he immediately sits up and holds her tight by the thigh so she wouldn't fall over as he adjusts to a sitting position. He takes his fingers out of her slick mouth, "Stay,"

He leans to the side and takes out an industrial type torch, those really bright ones and turns it on. She closes her eyes at the onslaught of light, scrunching her nose at the suddenness of it.

"I'm sorry, baby," Frank apologises, the pet name slipping out of his lips without him realising it.

With one hand he tilts her head back, and taps her chin so she can open her mouth wide and show him again. Frank points the flashlight inside her mouth, and sees the thing stapled to the roof of her mouth. It's a metal plaque, skinny and flat, it has something engraved on it, and it looks like a set of numbers.

Frank sighs, "Did they do that to you?"

He's talking about the men that were trafficking her that Frank killed.

She nods once, he stares at her plush lips that are now closed over his thumb that was hooked over her teeth.

"Was it one of those that I took down?"

She stares at him without saying anything, looks down at his chest, then back at his eyes and she shakes her head.

"Hm, do you remember who did it?" Frank asks like it was a casual question, like his chest wasn't burning up and itching to pick up his gun and vest to go hunt whoever hurt his puppy.

She nods and tilts her head to the side, she lets his thumb fall off her mouth and closes her eyes, crosses her arms over chest and sticks out her tongue.

"They're dead?"

She quickly nods and puts a hand on her chest, mimicking a heart beating very fast and suddenly stopping.

"Heart attack?"

She smiles a little and flops on his chest, tucking her head under his chin and Frank sighs, "Does it hurt?"

This time she shakes her head, but it just looks like she's rubbing her face on his chest, trying to scent him or something.

Frank brings a hand to her back, patting her, "Tomorrow we'll go and take it off, I have a friend who's good at sort of stuff,"

She tenses a little and wraps her arms tight around him.

"He's a good guy, you'll like him,"

Frank switches the torch off and puts it back to the side. He pulls the blankets down and throws them over his puppy, totally forgetting that technically, he told her she'd have to sleep in her own bed. But she doesn't protest, he can feel her smile against his chest and he's too tired to think too much into it, he gets comfortable and lets her curl up around him however she wants.

That night Frank sleeps with a cute puppy girl all around him and a gun under his pillow. Frank doesn't get a nightmare like usual, instead, he dreams about taking his puppy to the dentist and watching her swing from the lamp and scaring the dentist and dental nurses to hell and back, all the while he's just sitting there, laughing.

Chapter Text

"'m fine— Hey! Stop licking me!" Frank grunted, as the puppy girl immediately cornered him against the wall the second he stepped inside the basement.

Frank looked rough, his face was just blotches of varying shades of blues, purples, greens and yellows. It looked ugly. And his back was tender, skin trying to stitch shut after someone managed to slice him near the shoulder. Frank doesn't even realise that his puppy must've smelt the blood on him, and the antiseptic alcohol he messily used to stitch himself up before heading home to rest and actually do a better job at it when he regains consciousness again.

She's making a sad noise, like a whine, anxious hands hovering over Frank's skin, licking the grimy side of his face, her ears flat and her tail tucked between her legs. She was in another one of his t-shirts, and a pair of dark grey sweats with some socks.

When Frank manages to push her face away for a second, his rough palm covering the entirety of her precious face as he glances at the basement, the place looks neat, nothing looks out of order, and he's relieved by the information.

But then if there's no ripped furniture or newspaper, what in the world was she doing to entertain herself for the two weeks he was gone?

Frank pushes himself off the wall with a wince, carefully holding his arms still to not accidentally open a stitch. Pup immediately scrambles to his side, watching his face the whole time as he makes his way to his cot, that was covered in two blankets and a couple of books.

As soon as his ass hits the cot, he groans in relief. He slowly starts to bend down to take off his boots, but she stops him, with her hands on his shoulders. Frank notices how she's barely pressing down on his skin, and he appreciates the care.

"You don't have to—" Frank starts to protests when she gets on the floor, on her knees, pulling at his laces to carefully slip his boots off. He laces his fingers in her hair, pulling a little, "What're you doing? Hm, silly fucking dog?" He's smiling a little as he shakes her head a little, and she huffs, lifting her head to glare at him, then he juts his chin out, "What?"

She growls at him, deep and animalistic, a warning.

"Okay," Frank breathes, letting go of her hair to rub at his aching knees.

His pup gets up from the floor, picking up his boots and putting them near the wall, where he usually puts them. Then when she comes back, she tugs at his hoodie, Frank wordlessly moves his arms so she can pull it off, balling the clothing item and throwing it inside the beat up basket they use for laundry. He wasn't wearing anything underneath but stitches, gauze and tape.

Frank watches her worry-filled eyes roam over his messed up flesh, then with a sad sigh, she reaches for his belt buckle. Her knuckle brushing against his crotch bring Frank back to reality, he quickly grabs her wrist in his hand, "What do you think you're doing?"

She lifts her head, confused and a little insulted.

His puppy's mouth opens and closes back up again, she frowns, and points at the bed he's sitting on, then at his rough jeans. She scrunches her nose and eyebrows, and pulls her hand free from Frank's hold, then with one flat palm, facing the ceiling, she rubs her other fist on it, with a shake of her head.

Scratchy materials are not allowed in bed, they're uncomfortable.

Frank perfectly understood her. He sighs, "Alright, I get it. I can do it on my own, thanks,"

His puppy stands there, her fingers tangled together as she watches Frank finish unbuckling his belt, popping the button open and pulling the zipper down. He doesn't have to look up to know she's staring at him with big attentive eyes.

Frank tries to slip the jeans below his ass, everything hurting every time he moves.

He gasps, the pain shooting up his limbs and Pup moves to help.

She wraps her arms around his waist, bending down to support his weight on her shoulder, when she deems him steady enough, she slips her hands lower to drag his jeans down his legs.

Frank's grunting in pain the whole time, a little embarrassed that his sweet puppy girl has to help him take his damn trousers off. Imagine, the big bad Punisher, unable to even undress himself for bed.

He doesn't even complain, whatever energy he had left in him completely melting away the second he got back to his hideout.

Once his trousers join his hoodie, he's lowered back on the bed, and he can feel sweat gathering at the back of his neck, pain pulsing under his skin like a second heartbeat.

"Get me water and the first aid kit,"

Pup jumps at the commend, practically leaping to the other side of the basement in a heartbeat to get him what he asked for.

The first aid kit is placed next to him the next minute, and he's got a black mug with water held in front of his face. Frank glances up at his puppy, sighing when she looks like she's about to cry or something, which was a little weird, considering he's never seen her cry before.

Frank grabs the mug, "Sit," He pats the free space next to him and she sits, hands on her knees, watching him intently. Frank drinks half of the water and rummages inside the plastic box, through first aid supplies until he takes out a small flat silver square with nine pills encased in it.

He pops two in his mouth, about to swallow a third when a hand stops him.

"Let go or you're sleeping outside," Frank threatens, which he usually never does. He knows she's trying to look out for him, because the box does say not to take more than two pills in four hours, but see, Frank was in so much pain.

He needed things to hurt just a little less so he can actually pass out.

Pup snatches her hand back, and instead grabs her hair with both hands, whining like the most pitiful dog ever, she was clearly distressed and Frank was just so tired, so in pain.

"I'll be fine, I did it before and I'm still here, okay?" Frank says, popping the third painkiller in his mouth, then a fourth.

He shouldn't have let her read every piece of writing in the first aid kit. Frank just wanted her to be a little more independent, he has no idea what she knows or doesn't, so the least he could do is try to encourage her to learn the world around her a little bit. Especially since he has no clue for how long she was trafficked for, she has yet to share any information about that, and Frank doesn't really hold it against her, she probably went through hell and back in their hands.

Frank finishes his water and glances at her anxious face, if she wasn't there, he'd probably drink some vodka just to get to focus on the burning in his throat rather than everything else. But he doesn't think it'd be such a good idea to numb himself like that when he's got an anxious puppy in his hands.

"Have you ever stitched someone?" Frank asks, spilling the first aid kit next to him with a shaky hand, trying to find the suture kit.

His puppy looks a little alarmed at the sight of thread and a tiny sharp hook attached to the end, her eyes widen and she shakes her head.

"Pay attention," Frank grunts, looking down at his arm, and ripping off the wet tape he slapped on a nasty cut. As soon as he does, blood starts to drip down his arm and he grabs a bunch of cotton balls, trying to clean it up. He then regrets doing this on the bed, jaw clenching and eyebrows furrowing.

The cut is then covered in a shadow, Frank is about to tell his Pup to move away from the source of light when she bends her head and licks up his arm.

He gasps at her wet, hot tongue and he drops the blood-wet cotton ball inside the first aid kit to grab her by the scruff of the neck, "Hey, stop it,"

She doesn't, instead she insistently licks him up the arm, cleaning the blood off and then when she runs her tongue over the cut, Frank hisses, "Listen, I said stop—" He pulls her harder by the neck, trying to get her off his nasty cut, but she sticks a hand out and pushes him flat on the bed with a hand on his face, which by the way, was rude as hell.

Frank was so surprised he lets out a shocked laugh as she keeps licking his wound. Her hand leaves his face to rest on his chest, pinning him down, so Frank lifts his head to frown down at her, he can't even think of anything to say to her. If she wants to lick off his blood and sweat like a mutt, so be it. He watches her with squinted eyes, until she finally lifts her head, lifting her eyes to meet his and Frank doesn't say anything.

She's got blood, mixed with her spit covering her chin and lower lip. There's a faint red smear on the tip of her nose and something in Frank's stomach turns.

He blinks and lifts his arm, bringing it to his face.

She straightens up, at attention, eyes wide.

Frank's wound was gone.

He frowns, turning his arm over, just to be sure, and it was truly gone.

Frank drags his fingers where the cut was, the skin slick with her spit, and he's surprised to find that it doesn't even hurt, there's not even a scar to be seen.

"What the hell…" He whispers, confused and a little freaked out.

He raises his eyes to look at the girl, she's sitting on her haunches, hands on her thighs, looking proud. She's smiling at him, lifting her chin up and puffing out her chest.

Frank can't even be angry at her, so he sighs and sits back up, "Next time you want to lick me, ask,"

She nods, brows furrowing to show that she understands and was taking his words seriously.

"Thank you," He says and she shyly smiles at him, eyelashes fluttering.

When his hand reaches for the suture kit again, she makes a confused sound and Frank tuts at her, "No, you can't suck on me like some toy, even if your spit has healing properties,"

She huffs and Frank rolls his eyes, "Let me tell you this; If I don't heal fast enough for ya, you can lick on them, alright?"

She tilts her head to the side, thinking, and when she realises Frank wasn't about to change his mind, she sighs, nodding.

"Pay attention," Frank says and she nods again, watching him start to clean around other cuts before stitching them shut.

Chapter Text

The Punisher has been tailing a crime lord for the past month, and when he thought he finally had the drop on him, their friendly neighbour Spider-Man jumped in to confront the man in the middle of him smoking behind one of his clubs. Totally derailing Frank's plan.

Frank cursed under his breath, sniper rifle propped on a couple of bricks as he watched Spider-Man run his mouth while the man glared at him.

Then in no time really, the man's goons spilled out of the club and started shooting Spider-Man, which caused Frank's line of sight to be obscured. He put the sniper rifle away and made his way below, M16 rifle propped on his shoulder, he only hoped the bastard won't get far with Spider-Man fighting off his goons.

It didn't take long for people to start spilling out of the club, having heard the gunshots, running across the streets, making more of a mess than this needed to be. Frank hurried his pace, he'll probably have five minutes tops to wipe out the fucker before the police shows up.

He found himself jogging down the stairs inside the club, glitter and alcohol residue sticking to his military grade boots as he made a bee line to the man's office. Frank has had plenty of time to study the layout of the club, including those additions that were not legally recorded.

By the time he made his way to the crime lord's office, Frank wasn't surprised to find that it was empty, and in that moment the door burst open and in came Spider-Man, "Oh, shit! He's gone!"

Frank ignored the vigilante and pointed his machine gun at the wall, near some ugly painting of a tiger perched on the capital state building, and squeezed the trigger. Spider-Man watched in confusion until he heard a scream. Frank smirked, marching to the wall and punching his fist in it. Spider-Man watched as Frank took hold of something and pulled.

Frank pulled the crime lord straight out of the wall and threw him on the floor like he was nothing more than trash, and he was.

"Okay, that was— Mr Punisher, thanks for the help but I got it from here," Spider-Man said, stepping to stand next to Frank.

Frank glanced at the wall-crawling vigilante and eyed him up and down, "He's mine, get out of here before it gets ugly,"

"No! Spider-Man, save me! Help! Take me to the cops instead!" The man begged on his hands and knees, arm bleeding from where a bullet nicked him.

Spider-Man turned to the man, confusion lacing his voice, "You literally said you were gonna remove my spine from my body and shove it up my a—"

The vigilante didn't get to finish his sentence before Frank emptied his magazine chamber on the man's face, putting twenty holes in his skull. Spider-Man flinched, watching without breathing when Frank lowered his machine gun and shot the dead body between the legs for good measure, "That's for the kids," Frank grunted under his breath, which made a shiver run down Peter's back, "What the fuck,"

Spider-Man tried not to stare at the grizzly sight in front of him, so when Frank started flipping the office upside down, looking for something, Peter flipped the carpet to cover the body with it.

"What are you looking for?" Spider-Man asked after a deep sigh, scratching the back of his neck.

"Names," Frank answered.

"Evidence, huh," Spidey nodded, arms crossed.

After a few seconds of silence, Spider-Man frowned under his mask, "Don't you think it's taking the cops a while to get here?"

Right after the words left Peter's mouth, the door blew open, taking out the door frame and surrounding walls, making chunks of wall and wood fly across the room like bullets. Frank took cover behind the giant mahogany desk as Peter leapt on the ceiling.

It didn't take long for Spider-Man to jump through the door, kicking the goons and sending half of them plummeting through walls and back inside the office for Frank to shoot at.

Frank, with his machine gun in hand made his way out of the office, up the stairs, dodging flying bodies that Spider-Man swung around to plaster them to the walls and the ceiling. Frank made sure to not to accidentally step in one of Spider-Man's webs, first experience taught him how much they're a pain to get out of.

"Where the hell is NYPD?!" Spider-Man was confused, and didn't look back when he leapt out of the window, climbing up the building to the roof, leaving Frank to empty his machine gun on another ten goons that appeared behind the bar counter, coming at him at the same time.

When Frank was done, he was drenched in sweat, hands burning from the machine gun, and his magazine was fucking empty. A pat through his vest quickly revealed that was he truly out of magazines. So when footsteps echoed up the stairs, Frank threw his machine gun to the side and took out his pistol.

Spider-Man came right back in, landing in front of Frank, "Shit, Frank, the block's shut down,"

"What?" Frank frowned, wiping a hand across his forehead, to rid himself of the sweat dripping down his eyebrow, to his eyes.

"Yeah, and it doesn't look like his goons either, like, lots of different dudes, different gangs are here," Spider-Man said, hands linked behind his head as he paced around.

"You can leave, they don't want you," Frank took a sharp breath in as hushes were heard right around the corner, he knelt behind a big round couch, getting ready.

"Uh-huh," Spider-Man was wearing a mask but Frank knew for a fact he was rolling his eyes.

Frank was right, of course, the goons didn't want Spider-Man, they hated him still but it's The Punisher they were after, considering he was the one putting their guys six feet under on a regular basis while Spidey was responsible for putting them in prison for a few months before they get released again on the streets.

"Do you know what they want?" Spider-Man asked after jumping on the ceiling, putting himself on the left corner, over the door, where he'll be out of sight.

Frank shoved his hand in his pocket and waved a small grey USB stick in the air, "This,"

"Got it," Spider-Man nodded with a grimace, because he knew for a fact that whatever was in it must be disgusting to a demonic degree to get this many gang members to the club in that short span of time, and blocking the cops out on top of that. They really want whatever is in that USB stick, so Peter takes a deep breath, deciding that he won't let anyone get their hands on it.

A shit ton of goons spill into the room again, this time throwing in a canister of tear gas before they appear, but Spidey grabs it and throws it out of the window, and the room lights up with gunshots again.

It's a blur from there, Spider-Man making human sized holes in the walls and Frank emptying his gun in so many bodies, the floor starts to get slippery with blood. It's a grizzly mess, and soon Frank finds that he's truly out of bullets, and Spider-Man out of webs too, imagine that.

They find themselves near the front door, where more goons were waiting for them right outside. Spider-Man was with his back to the wall, panting behind his mask, at some point he grabs his mask from the bottom and lifts it over his chin, the fabric bunching up on the bridge of his nose as he takes in big gulps of air.

"All of that, for this," Spider-Man gulps, holding his thumb and index fingers in front of his face with space between the two, mimicking the small size of the USB stick. He glances at Frank next to him, "What, now?"

Frank shoves his hand inside one of his pockets, taking out a small silver stick, he puts it in his mouth and blows.

Spider-Man gets off the wall, staring at the man to his side, "Is that a silent dog whistle?"

Frank puts the whistle away, and without looking at him, he says, "You talk too much,"

"You have a dog? Why are you calling your dog with those guys outside??" Spider-Man looks a little horrified, and Frank cracked a small smile, "It's not a dog,"

"What?"

Right in that moment shocked shouts are heard coming from the back of the building, then the sound of things breaking and shuffling. It doesn't last long and Spider-Man lowers his mask and clenches his fists. Frank straightens up and starts walking to the end of the room, and Spider-Man follows and freezes when they come face to face with a girl? A boy??

Either way, the person had fluffy curly hair on their head, and dog ears along with a fucking tail.

"Attagirl," Frank praises and walks to up to her, spinning her around and starting to unload the pouches strapped to her body. She's wearing a black bulletproof vest, matching the one Frank's wearing, only that hers didn't have the skull painted on it. Instead, it's hanging off her neck in a small shiny pendant attached to a thick black collar. She's also wearing a black t-shirt under her vest, black shorts, elbow and knee pads, with black gloves and black boots.

Spider-Man realises then that her tail was wagging as she stares at him with big eyes.

He clears his throat, "Hey,"

Her eyes widen and a big grin splits her face, she's beaming at him, and waves at him. He can't help but find her adorable. He waves back, "I'm Spider-Man, what's your name?"

"Her name is Pup," Frank answers instead and she nods.

"Uh, nice to meet you," Spider-Man gives her a nod and hopes it's just her name how his is Spider-Man. She then shoves a hand in one of her many pockets, taking something small and handing it to the vigilante.

Spider-Man hesitantly grabs it, and smiles under his mask, "Oh, thanks,"

It's a cereal bar, and to be frank, he was hungry, so he shoves his mask above his nose and takes a big bite out of the treat after unwrapping it. He chews while watching Frank reload his weapons and her standing there, staring at him, barely blinking.

"She likes your work," Frank says without even looking up, surprising Spider-Man and Pup ducks her chin, getting a little shy.

"Uhm, Thank you, Pup," He says, polite as ever while trying not to stare too long at the fluffy ears on her head.

"Is she— Are you a mutant?" He blurts out, curiosity itching under his skin, or maybe it was just sweat, whatever.

She tilts her head to the side, thinking, and then nods, Spider-Man hums and looks around to put the wrapper away, and as if she read his mind, she plucks it from his hand and shoves it in her own pocket.

"Pockets, real handy," He chuckles and she smiles, shrugging.

"Alright, enough socialising, we need to get outta here," Frank says, putting a big hand on her head, scratching her scalp and she looks up at him with big eyes.

Frank's hand slips to the back of her neck, cupping it over the thick collar she had on, "You're going first, we'll be right behind you,"

She nods, brows furrowing in concentration.

"Wait, hold on— You're not sending her first!" Spider-Man blurts out because is The Punisher insane? He wants to send this cute puppy girl out there, to get shot at and murdered? Not only she had a pretty face and the kindest eyes Peter's ever seen, but she was smaller than both of them, fairly shorter than Spidey and looked even tinier standing next to Frank, her freaking head barely reached Frank's chin.

"She can take care of herself," Frank says, sure of himself.

Spidey squints his eyes under his mask, finding it hard to believe, if anything, he thought she was like a rescue dog, y'know? Like those who bring help to people during natural disasters. As soon as the thought crosses his head he feels a pang of guilt, because sure she had dog ears, a tail, a collar and her name was Pup, but doesn't mean she's one. She still looks human for the most part, two legs, two arms, a human nose and clearly, she wasn't furry either.

Pup catches Spidey's attention with a hand waved in front of his face, then he tilts his head back looking down at her as she opens her mouth and points at her sharp teeth.

"Oh, okay," He dumbly says as she grins and lifts both arms, flexing her biceps.

He grins, "Alright, I understand,"

Spider-Man chuckles when she wiggles her brows at him and starts shadow boxing the air.

"Pup," Frank calls and she turns, her attention fully on him. Frank shows her where to stand and to wait for his signal before going out there. Frank takes her right and Peter her left. When Peter lowers his mask and everyone is in position, she glances over her shoulder, looking at him. When Peter meets her eye, she grins, winking, as if to say, "Watch me,"

Chapter Text

Frank has a very good dog.

Actually, no.

He's got the best dog.

Frank's puppy is the best. Loyal to a T and listens to him and him only.

Lately she's more killing machine than dog or human. But sometimes, between her and Frank, the lines blur a little and Frank starts to feel like he's the animal.

They're in the shower when it goes down. It's a single shower head sticking from the wall with a drain under their feet. The room is open and there's nothing else but a cracked mirror hung up on the left and an ugly lone wooden chair with towels thrown haphazardly on it.

Frank has his puppy in a headlock. Her back to his front. They're both naked, wet with the overhead lukewarm water, and running hot like they're about to melt off their bones.

The room smells like bleach, a hint of black mould and the distinct smell of sweat and sex.

They're loud, the two of them.

Frank is punching his hips up inside her tight hole. Knocking her on her tip toes every time. And when he thinks she'll slip away, he tugs at her tail, higher, putting it out of the way, so he can get a little glimpse of her untouched tight little hole while he bullies her cunt loose with his heavy dick.

She's whining, like a dog, never like a woman.

All pitiful and sad, but then she's moaning too, leaking down her legs, an unnatural amount of slick just pouring out of her in small rivulets. Making Frank's job that much easier, that much messier.

Doesn't mean she's not trying to somehow break his dick in half.

She clenches tight around him, rhythmically, like a heartbeat, slowly undoing the stitches keeping Frank together, keeping him as human as he can be, or at least, what's left of it.

"There, there, good— fuck," Frank curses, swallows his words down when she pushed her body back a little, with her tip toes, because her hands are clawing at the massive arm curled around her neck. She's technically getting fucked against the wall but no part of her was actually touching any of the wall. She was just facing it, her breath bouncing on the wall to hit her face again.

Frank's just that strong.

She sniffles and opens her mouth, loud breathy sounds getting punched out of her. Frank hears every single one of them over the water in his ears. She sounds pretty. Used.

There's something about the possessive nature they're fucking in. Because Frank doesn't remember the last time he had a good fuck like this. Maybe because Pup is just that, Pup, nothing more, nothing less. She's a half woman, half dog, mutant. A freak of nature.

His Pup is strong too, stronger than him, which means that no matter how much he holds her by the scruff of the neck, or re-directs her with a hand on her head, or fucks her like he's trying to kill her, he knows she'll never break. She'll never hurt. She'll never hate him.

She'll never leave him.

"Come here," He hisses through clenched teeth, as if her body wasn't practically held up by his sheer strength alone, the two glued together with slick, sweat and water.

She gasps when he suddenly puts her down to just spin her around and grab her by the back of the legs, lifting her.

She jumps, wrapping them around his waist. Frank, with a hand on the back of her neck, and the other shoved between them, he grabs his fat dick and pushes it inside, where it belongs.

He groans, deep in his throat when he goes back in, all the way to the root. She's scorching hot and wet, so wet.

Frank keeps a hand on the back of her neck, then. And the other goes to hold her ass, a finger or two under where her tail begins. He grabs at the fat and lifts her, pulling his hips back to slam back in.

Her reaction is immediate, a loud, high pitched scream. Her hands are holding onto his big, muscular shoulders for dear life, shaky legs wrapped tightly around him, because that's what he wanted.

"Been bitching in my ear all week, hn? Didn't like how I came back smelling? You jealous I'm giving pets to another dog? To another girl?" Frank says, grinning.

Puppy glares at him, as much as she could while trying to fight off the urge to let her eyes roll at the back of her head, tongue just begging to loll out of that wet mouth.

"Silly fucking puppy," He says, pulling her closer by the back of the neck so he can smack a possessive kiss to her slack mouth.

She tries to kiss him back, licking across his lips and trying to breathe in his mouth.

Frank laughs, his whole body shaking with it, and she feels it, in her pussy, and that's when she starts crying.

"Aw, alright, sweetheart," Frank hums. "We're almost done,"

Frank picks up his pace, balls full and heavy, throbbing with the need to come, deep, deep inside his precious Puppy.

"You've made one hell of a mess, hm?" Frank starts to speak again, confusing his Pup, because he's meant to get this over and done with, he's meant to make her come now.

"Don't give me that look," He tuts, warning her. "Look at this, leaked so much I'd think you pissed on me if I didn't know you just did that,"

Frank's being mean.

"Maybe you did piss on me when I wasn't looking," He's totally lying. "Marked me up, marked your territory like a good dog"

Puppy gives him a fucked out smile, the praise shot straight into her veins like cocaine. Making her stupid with it.

"It's only right I do the same thing, you're mine at the end of the day, my dog," Frank says and doesn't even give her a warning.

Pup doesn't know what's happening at first, so far gone, but the warmth, the feeling of it filling her insides sobers her up a little.

She looks down, a little scared, and watches as her stomach bulges with his dick and his piss.

Frank Castle, The Punisher is pissing inside her.

Puppy screams when she comes, squirming and trashing in his hold while she almost bends backward, squirting all over them both, making more of a mess.

Frank keeps going. Even when she's twitching and crying in his arms, his dick is spurting dribbles of piss inside her still, as a steady stream of it pours out of her hole, smacking against the floor, the yellow of it mixing with the water and swirling into the drain.

Frank's heartbeat is loud in his ears, he feels like something in his head burst, and when he looks down at the girl in his arms, his dick twitches, he hasn't come yet.

He bends his head, kissing the top of her head, "Hold on for me, just for a little,"

His Puppy whines against his shoulder, drooling on his warm skin.

Frank lets go of her neck and reaches down for her ass, grabbing each cheek in one hand, and squeezing. She jumps at the touch.

"I'll be quick," He grunts, lifting her and dropping her back down on his dick, a disgusting squelch and the sound of liquids spilling around his dick, splattering all over the floor and his legs, echoing in the shower.

Frank shivers, smelling her come and his piss hanging in the air, and before he rearranged her guts and breeds her mutt cunny, he praises her, like every good owner does,

"Good girl"

Chapter Text

It took Frank seeing Pup standing by the coffee machine, her body drowning in his t-shirt, to finally pencil in a day to take her out shopping.

I mean, not shopping in the traditional sense.

Frank's taking her to a thrift store, the same sort of place he gets his clothes from. And he thinks it's the best to shop there because the buildings tend to be older, less traffic, less people, and he needs to get clothes that she won't have to worry about ruining or ripping. It's practical. After all, she's a girl, but also a dog.

He was nervous about taking her out. After all, it'll be the first time she's going to be out in public after Frank has rescued her. He's not sure if it's the fact she's visibly different (the ears and the tail) or that she'll just take off and never come back. Frank doesn't really want to think about those possibilities.

He just needs to focus on getting her clothes, and taking her to Curtis so he can get that thing out of her mouth. The fact that it took him this long to take her out was that he knew that the damn thing was no tracker. If it was, his hide-out would've been compromised by now.

They arrive at the thrift store at 9AM sharp on a Monday morning, when Frank thinks will likely have the least amount of people around. They drove in the van, and Pup is buckled on the passenger' seat. She's looking out the window with her black hoodie over her hair and ears. It's Frank's but whatever. Then she had on a loose pair of basketball shorts, socks and slippers. All things he randomly picked up in front of thrifts that people left out in the middle of the night.

"Hey," He calls, hands on the steering wheel. They're already parked and it looked like no else was out besides them.

She turns to look at him, expression open and curious.

"We'll go in and out, 30 minutes, tops, alright?"

She nods.

Frank sighs, "Do you know what size you wear?"

Pup stares at him, then looks off to the side, thinking hard.

Frank scratches his forehead, "Alright, we have an hour,"

Once they're inside, Frank grabs a trolley, and he scans the whole shop floor, noticing how empty it was. It had one employee behind the till and one camera by the door. Good enough.

He has a hat on, casting a low shadow over his eyes. Frank glances at Pup and the big hood almost obscuring half of her face. She jerks her head back, and he sees the awe in her eyes, she's about to go in deeper when Frank holds her wrist, "No, stay. You follow me, okay? If you want something, put it in the trolley,"

He glances at the girl behind the tills, she looks bored and is scribbling something in a notebook with her cheek resting on her palm.

"Remember, you need clothes; the necessities," He adds and she nods, looking a little dissapointed. But the feeling quickly fades when Frank walks them through rows and rows of random junk. She's looking at everything like she's never seen it before, and Frank hates to think it may be true.

Once they reach the women's clothes section, Frank looks at her, "Don't forget underwear, socks, and whatever else you need. Start looking, I'll get you a jacket and some shoes,"

Frank waits until she turned around and starts sifting through a row of hanged t-shirts. He heads straight for the winter coats section, and on his way, he passes by a wall of bags. Frank doesn't think when he grabs a sturdy looking duffel bag and throws it in the trolley.

Frank immediately starts looking through the coats, quickly flipping through them to find one that'll keep her warm when it gets cold, because most of the coats look extremely unpractical. He doesn't like that.

He finds a few options, throwing them in the trolley and heads for the shoes, more specifically boots, he's not sure what she wears so he throws every good pair in the trolley. The faster he'll get through this, the better.

Then Frank glances over his shoulder, his eyes widen when he realises she wasn't where he left her. He finds her quickly though, she's in the boys section with the cashier. They're flipping through t-shirts and the cashier is telling his girl something he can't hear.

Frank turns his trolley around and joins them.

"What I usually do is look through the kids section for t-shirts, cuz I don't really like wearing bras, the kids t-shirts are always tight, so it like— gives you support, kinda," The girl tells Pup, then she pulls out a t-shirt, it's a black one, and in white big bold letters, it says 'I BITE', "Do you like this one?"

Pup enthusiastically nods, grinning, when she takes the t-shirt from her new friend. She looks up at Frank, and she smirks, shaking the t-shirt in the air, "Yeah, it's nice," He grunts.

"Hi, your friend says she wants me to help her find clothes," The girl turns to Frank, taking out a stack of post-it notes from her pocket, showing one to Frank, where it says, in black ink, 'I like your clothes. help me find?' and he gets a closer look at her smudged eye-liner, raccoon tail hair extensions, turtle neck top under a band t-shirt, grey ripped skinny jeans and dark purple converses that have seen better days.

Pup dives in the trolley, picking up one of the jackets Frank picked out and she slips her arms through them, when the sleeves turn out to be too long, Frank grabs the collar of the jacket and pulls, they're clearly not getting it.

"Come here," He grabs Pup by the wrist and pulls her away for a little privacy. Pup blinks up at him, confused. "Don't let her see your ears or tail, don't let anyone see," Pup nods.

Frank looks around again, they're still the only people in the shop, perfect.

He spots a chair in front of the dressing room, in the corner, "I'll be right there,"

Before he goes to take a seat, he leaves the trolley with her and Pup turns to the girl and they dive in the trolley, fetching coats and the boots Frank picked. The girl helps Pup try the jackets on, "Maybe you should take off your hoodie, so you can tell if it actually fits,"

Pup freezes for a blink, and shakes her head.

"Oh, you're probably not wearing anything underneath it, sorry," The girl says, looking at Pup's shorts and slippers. She looked like she just rolled out of bed.

"Try these on," The girl holds up a pair of lace up boxing boots.

Pup finds a stool right behind her, she sits and starts slipping the boot on. The girl watches, then she bends her head down, and asks, in a small voice, "Are you safe with him?"

Pup looks up after slipping one foot in the boot. She blinks and nods, face open and earnest.

"Oh," The girl looks a little confused, "Are you sure?"

Pup nods again, smiling a little, and then doing a writing motion on her palm. The girl quickly pulls out her post-it notes and pen, handing them to Pup.

Pup quickly writes down an answer and turns it around, showing it to the girl.

'I'm sick. He's my roommate. He helps me.'

"Oh, that's good, I mean— Sorry, I thought…" The girl rubs her neck, "Anyway, how do they fit? Apparently they're comfortable,"

Pup jumps up and bends her head down, looking at the black pair of boxing boots, she hops in her spot, grinning at how well they fit. She lifts her head and smiles.

The cashier smiles, "Good?"

Pup gives her a thumbs up.

An hour and a half later and Frank is finally paying at the till. Their total was $68.50 and he doesn't even say anything when Pup shoves a dog keychain in front of his face before he pays. He looks at it, then back at her eager face.

She shakes it again, and he grabs it from her fingers, "This too, please,"

"$69.50 then, cash or card?"

"Cash," Frank pulls a couple of bills out of his back pocket while Pup rocks on her feet next to him.

When he pays and grabs all of the bags, because Pup doesn't even glance at them, he starts walking towards the exit, eager to leave.

"Bye!" The cashier waves at Pup, who waves back with a grin.

Once they're out, Frank shoves the bags in the back of the van, he rounds the van to the passenger' side and opens the door, Pup at his heel. He spins around and looks at her. Like, really look at her and the outfit she left in.

She wearing the same black t-shirt she showed him earlier, with the ironic line on the chest 'I BITE'. It looked tiny on her, cropped, riding way above her belly button, half of her torso out in the open. Frank doesn't think it feels comfortable in the slightest, especially since it wasn't the warmest. The weather was a little chilly, a bit mild, but definitely not the weather for crop tops. She also didn't bother with a bra, and Frank has no clue how to feel or think about it. She was on the smaller side, and he's not being unkind by thinking she probably doesn't need a bra if she's looking for 'support'. Either way, he can see the faint outline of her nipples. And he's sure if he keeps lifting her arms, her poor excuse of a t-shirt will ride up and up and up—

For bottoms she had on a pair of low rise jeans, like stupidly low, and he understands considering she had a tail. But the blue lace of her brand new panties could be seen. At least she had on a big leather trench coat that stopped at her knees and some biker boots to match. Her tail wasn't visible that way. And as for the ears, they were hiding in her messy curly hair and under a leather newsboy cap.

Frank doesn't miss how all of her clothes were in the same shade of black, but her dark washed jeans and panties of course. And he tries not to think about how his Punisher uniform has the same colour scheme. He's not sure if she chose those clothes on purpose, with the intention of matching him but it makes something in his stomach tighten. He's not sure what it is but he's probably better off not thinking too hard on it.

"Are you cold?" His voice comes out deeper than usual, he can't see her ears but he's sure they must a have perked up because her eyes widen a little, mischief glinting in them. She shakes her head, smirking a little.

Frank squints his eyes, staring down at her as she stares up at him with her ridiculously big eyes and pink mouth.

He sighs, scratching the back of his neck, "You hungry?"

She immediately nods.

"Alright, get in," He nods to her seat. She hops in, fixing her coat and moving her tail out of the way before she sits. Frank crowds her in, pulling at her seatbelt to buckle her in. She watches him, silent and still, smart eyes following his every move. And Frank tries not to linger, he moves to pull away but something stops him. He meets her eyes, steady and unwavering.

He's not sure what he's looking for, but her eyes soften suddenly and she puts a gentle hand on his arm, leaning forward to place the softest of kisses to his jaw, she mouths something against his skin and he takes in a sharp breath, "You're welcome,"

He pulls away, eyes still on hers and she grins the second the words leave his mouth.

He understood her.

Frank chuckles and closes her door, rounding the van to get on the other side. "You want pancakes?" He asks when he turns the ignition on.

She nods, excited.

"Alright, then," He smiles and drives out of the parking lot.

The diner he takes her to is a cheap place in a rough neighbourhood. But she doesn't seem to mind one bit, especially since one of the waitresses offered her a lollipop when she saw Pup stare too long at the jar.

Now they're sitting at a booth, facing each other, Pup was swinging her feet under the table for the hell of it, sharp teeth gnawing at the lollipop while she watches people come and go outside.

Frank sips on his dark coffee, no sugar, like a total psycho, and he's watching her and the other customers. Especially this one man, who's now glancing at her over his shoulder for the fourth time since they stepped in the diner.

Frank doesn't do anything. He keeps watch. Because there's no need to cause a scene or say something when the man hasn't said or done anything to offend them yet. Frank follows his line of sight, and he can't make up for sure what he's looking at exactly because his eyes keep going up and down the length of Pup's body. The man only has a view of her side profile and the length of her legs, the trench coat covering most of her lower body.

Their pancakes come shortly and Pup doesn't waste any time before digging in. Frank keeps watch while she enjoys her big bites of fluffy pancakes, sugar powder and some berries, all washed down with a cool tall glass of full fat milk.

Frank's fork freezes mid-air when he sees the same man approach their table. Frank's adrenaline spikes and he's thinking of all the soft spots on the man's body he could bury his fork in. The man doesn't say anything, instead he places a folded piece of napkin in front of Pup, who's staring at him as she chews her big mouthful of pancake, cheeks full like a chipmunk.

The man doesn't even glance at Frank, he swiftly turns around and leaves the diner, all the while being watched by Frank and Pup.

When the man was out of sight, Pup finally swallows her mouthful and Frank puts his fork down on his plate. She glances at Frank, eyes big, as if asking for permission to open the napkin.

Frank shrugs, "Go ahead,"

She carefully thumbs it open and leans forward to read the contents of it. It's a phone number and a single sentence right underneath it, 'Because you look like a good girl,'.

Pup tilts her head to the side, looking confused. She holds up the napkin and turns it to face Frank. He reads the words and his jaw ticks, hands clenching on the table.

Suddenly he's itching to get up and drag her out of the diner to head straight back to the hideout. But she has yet to finish her food. So he closes his eyes for a second and when he doesn't hear the sound of her fork on her plate he glances back up at Pup.

She stares at him. Unmoving.

"Ignore it," He manages to say and she shrugs, using the same napkin to wipe her finger, and she digs back in the pancakes, like nothing happened.

Chapter Text

Pup doesn't remember when she first met the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, but she does remember how.

She was patrolling with Frank on a cold bitter night, that only registered as cold to her because of her breath clouding in front of her face when she exhaled. Still, Frank made her wear a big, warm jacket, gloves and a beanie. She was sitting criss-cross on the roof, by the edge, watching people all the way below, hands in her pockets when a dull thud was heard from behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder and saw Frank, The Punisher, standing face to face with a man dressed in blood-red, with horns on his head.

Pup knew he was Daredevil, she's read a few stories about the vigilante on the newspaper, and Frank told her about how he does an honest to God half-assed job at vigilantism. But he's a good guy for the most part, more than Frank.

Daredevil was looking straight at her, his head tilted the tiniest bit to the right. Frank then glances her way, he doesn't say anything and Pup watches, not moving from her position.

Then Daredevil speaks, "You're making friends now, Frank?"

"You jealous, Red?" Frank scoffs, dry as ever.

"Jealous? Oh no, not me. I'm fine where I stand in your social circle, but her, you'll introduce me?" Daredevil smirks.

"No," Frank crosses his arms over his chest.

"Oh, come on, look at her, freezing her ass off in the dead of night and you won't even let me say hello? What she doing here anyway? She like you?" Daredevil presses.

Frank rolls his eyes, then says, "She's like you,"

Daredevil' smirk falters, "What does that mean?"

"She has talents," Frank says.

Pup hears all of it, not because they're standing near but because they're at the end of the roof and she's got the hearing of a K9 dog. She flushes at Frank's praise, the words going straight to her tummy and spreading down her legs, making her shiver in her thick coat.

Daredevil freezes when his enhanced senses pick up the reaction.

The lower half of his face must've showed his realisation because Frank hums, "Did she hear?"

"Yeahh…" Daredevil says, a little distracted.

"Pup, come here," Frank calls.

She immediately gets up and walks up to them. Her eyes flitting from Daredevil to Frank and back. Once she gets there, she smiles, looking up at Frank to introduce her.

"Pup, Red," He nods at Daredevil. "Red, this is Pup," Frank says.

"Pup," Daredevil repeats.

She watches Daredevil with a shy smile, greedily taking in his red costume. The little details on it, the DD on the chest, the textures and the Billy clubs attached at his hip. And the glaring lack of any real weapons.

"She's mute," Frank then adds.

"That's alright," Daredevil smiles, not mentioning how he's blind because Frank knows already and Daredevil doesn't know her just yet to tell her his business like that. "It's nice to meet you, Pup,"

Daredevil hopes for everyone's sake that 'Pup' is just a fake name to protect her identity.

"I'm sorry, why Pup?" He tilts his head to the side confused.

Pup glances at Frank and he gives her a shrug, she looks back at Daredevil and reaches for her beanie, taking it off, revealing a set of dog ears amongst a mess of dark curls framing the rest of her face.

Daredevil feels like an idiot for not noticing any sooner, because he can make out the ears in his mind, their presence more much obvious now that they're not pressed flat against her scalp.

"Oh, wow," He breathes out, 'staring' with his mouth ajar.

She twists her beanie in her hand, somehow nervous at his reaction. Once her anxiety registers in Daredevil's head, he smiles, "It's unique, I bet they're adorable in the daylight,"

She immediately grins at his words, tucking her chin in. And Frank plants his hand on her head, shaking out her flat curls for her while scratching at her scalp like he would to a real dog.

She immediately shivers, eyes fluttering close as she lets him play with her hair and ears. Her previously motionless tail, tucked inside her jacket, escapes out of it from the bottom and starts wagging, making a 'swish, swish' sound against the back of her jacket.

Daredevil stands there, mouth agape.

Then Frank drags his hand lower, to the back of her neck and squeezes, making her moan. She reaches to grab at one of the straps on his vest for support. Frank chuckles and releases her.

Daredevil stands there, hearing her fast heartbeat loud and clear in his head. And he can practically feel the heat emitting from her body and smell the aroused pheromones spilling out of her pores.

And he's not sure how to react because Frank's heartbeat was calm and steady. And yet, Daredevil knew the man did it on purpose. He can't prove it but he knows it in his bones.

"Just a bitch in heat, hm? The second Red gives you attention, you're ready to go belly up? Do I not give you enough attention?" Frank speaks in her neck, his warm front to her sweaty back as they're messily joined in the middle.

Pup is panting and crying on her hands and knees. Or more like, arms and knees, because her ass was only up because Frank was holding it up. Him and his massive fucking hands. They practically looked brutish gripping onto the sides of her ass like that. Her skin was soft and her tail even softer, wrapped around her own leg.

They already had a noticeable size difference, but joined like this, it was even more obvious. Frank swears he could feel his middle fingers brush against each other when he holds her waist. It was too much.

And worst of all was his dick. He knew he was big. But when he's with her, as in, her smaller body and so smaller pussy, it was even more obvious.

But she was lucky to be what she was. Because she doesn't get wet like any normal person gets. Oh no, her pussy was a mess of slick. She leaks like Frank's never seen before, and she gets all hot down there, her pussy lips getting engorged with blood and hormones, her body getting ready for a pounding. And that's exactly what Frank was giving her today. Doggy style.

Frank sits up, pulls back all the way until only his tip was suctioned in her slippery hole, and the sound it makes is disgusting and wet.

Then he slams back in, heavy and hard, angling his hips down a little. His full balls smacking her pussy lips, her wetness spreading at the force of his thrust, splashing further up her ass and higher on his chiselled and scarred pelvis.

Frank's almost snarling like a fucking animal, his spine tingling with heat and pleasure. He feels stupid with desire, his balls were tingling and throbbing and he's sure he's going to come so hard he'll get a headache from it.

And his puppy is not doing any better either, she's whining and moaning, barely able to close her mouth. Her face was squished on his pillow, eyes closed and hair stuck to her forehead, small tits brushing the bedsheets every time Frank buries himself inside her. Her nipples were starting to hurt from how much they've rubbed against the sheets. They're hot and they hurt.

"Fuu— Fuck. How are you this wet? You're always like this? Huh?" Frank says after gulping and continuing his slow and hard thrusts. His brows are furrowed and he can barely finish a single thought in his head. He doesn't remember ever feeling like this before. Was that just her? Her pussy? Or was it something in her slick that made him feel this way?

Whatever it was, Frank was dizzy with it. He throws his head back and moans openly when she starts pulsing harder around him, sucking his dick further inside her. Then she whines, frantically reaching back for his hands. She grabs them and pulls them up, Frank is pulled down, almost crushing her under his weight if not for his core strength and his strong thighs. She pushes his hands between her nipples and the bed and he curses under his breath, forehead against the back of her head.

And he starts to feel around, gentle and careful. When he notices the heat radiating off them and hears the wince she lets out when he rolls her nipples in his rough fingers, he coos. Frank wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her up. So now she's sitting on his lap as he's sitting on his thigh, "They hurt?" He pants against her jaw.

She nods and he hums, "It's okay, we're almost done,"

He doesn't wait and starts thrusting in and out of her hot pussy with his hands on her waist, lifting and dropping her back on his dick. All the while her head was bowed, watching the bulge in her stomach move with each thrust.

Then he licks his lower lip and lowers his left hand for better grip, and the second he feels her skin move under his fingers he grunts like he's been punched in the gut. Frank uses his other hand to move her face so he can frantically swallow all of her noises. Their kiss was messy, and downright disgusting. Especially when Frank drags one of his hands even lower and cups her whole pussy in his palm, feeling exactly where he's buried inside her. She screams when she comes. Her pussy tensing and choking his dick as she shakes and bows forward, Frank goes with her, her forehead to the bed, back arched, pulsing slick and squirting around him.

Frank's eyes were close tight, a roll of sweat drips down his chin and falls on her shoulder as she shakes like a leaf underneath his huge body.

Everything was hot, too hot. Their bodies plastered together with sweat and heat. And Frank is about to go out of his mind because she was so warm, much warmer than him, which was concerning for her size but she wasn't really a human to begin with. So maybe that's normal for her.

Frank is barely thinking when he moves to get off her, "Get on your back," the words come out scratchy and strangled.

Frank is the one who slips out of her pussy and flips her around like a little doll. Her eyes are barely open when he moves further up the bed, closer to her head and throws a massive, hairy thigh on the side of her head, he brackets her small face between his legs, and with one hand on the wall and the other between his legs, he furiously jerks himself off, whimpering when she tiredly brings both hands to grab at his thighs, just holding him there as he spills little droplets of precome and her own juices on her face until he finally comes with a pained gasp.

Her eyes flutter close and she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out as he wrings out every last drop of his come on her precious face.

When Frank was done, he pants heavily above her, making sure to stay still so he won't accidentally sit on her and hurt her. Both of his hands were on the wall, holding him up as he panted and tried to calm down. All the while his head was bowed down, staring at his puppy between his legs, who opened her eyes and casually swallowed his come like nothing. She licks around her mouth while staring at him, and Frank can't look away, especially when she gives him a tiny smile and tilts her head to the right to kiss his thigh, over a scar, and he trembles when his dick jerks and dribbles come on her chin.

She giggles and he huffs, "That's it, enough," And he carefully gets off her, sitting heavily next to her on the bed, feet on the cold floor. She immediately turns to her side and hugs him from behind, curling her body around his naked one.

Frank reaches back and scratches her ears without looking. She shivers and curls even closer against him, chin hooked on his sweaty, warm skin.