XXsaphoraXX

70s!Dom!elvis x Bratty! Black! Reader

tw: heavy smut ahead — rough dom!elvis, bratty reader, spanking, light bondage, overstimulation, mirror play, daddy vibes, a lil crying, and then super soft aftercare. if any of that isn’t your vibe, skip this one babes 💋

You stood at the foot of the bed in nothing but one of his shirts—half-buttoned, no bra—playing innocent while your eyes sparked with challenge.

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “You look tense.”

Elvis didn’t even look up from his chair where he was thumbing through a stack of sheet music. Calm. Still. Dangerous.

“You been runnin’ that smart little mouth all damn day, sugar,” he said low, his Memphis drawl syrupy and slow. “I let it slide at breakfast. Let it slide when you rolled your eyes at me in front of the boys. But now you’re standin’ here half-naked, actin’ like you don’t know what you’re doin’. You beggin’ for attention, or just beggin’ for trouble?”

You smirked, shifting your weight. “Maybe I’m bored.”

He finally looked up, his blue eyes narrowing. The heat behind them made your stomach twist.

“Well, now,” he murmured, rising from his chair in one fluid, lazy motion. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all damn day.”

You barely had time to move before he was on you—his hand sliding around the back of your neck, pulling you in close. His lips brushed your ear.

“You wanna act like a brat, you better be ready for how Daddy handles brats,” he whispered, voice dark, dangerous, but still wrapped in velvet. “You think I won’t put you over my knee and make you cry my name like a prayer?”

Your breath hitched.

“Elvis—”

He smirked.

“That’s more like it. I don’t play games, baby. You wanna mouth off? Push my buttons? Then I’ll show you exactly where that leads. You wanted attention? Now you got it.”

He walked you back toward the bed with slow, deliberate steps, never breaking eye contact. His voice dropped low again, silk wrapped around steel.

“Now get up on your knees, hands on the headboard. You so damn desperate to act out, I’m gonna make sure you remember who you belong to.”

And you did. Every word, every shiver, every breathless second.

You climbed onto the bed just like he told you—slow, spine tingling, every nerve lit up under his gaze. You could feel his eyes on you, heavy as his breath, dragging over every inch of skin exposed under his shirt.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “For once.”

The mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed behind you. His hands ran up your thighs, firm and slow, spreading you just enough to make you feel seen. Controlled. Owned.

“You like testin’ me, huh?” he muttered as his fingers slid up higher, gripping your hips. “Mouthing off, wearin’ my shirt like a little tease, thinkin’ you can wind me up and not pay for it.”

You let out a soft moan when his hand cracked against your bare cheek. Not hard—but enough to sting. Enough to make your legs tremble.

“Elvis—”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t whine now, baby,” he growled. “You wanted my attention. Now you’re gonna take it.”

He gripped your hair and pulled you up, your back arching against him. His lips brushed your ear, hot and heavy.

“I should make you say please. But you’d just act up again tomorrow, wouldn’t you?”

You bit your lip. Didn’t answer.

He chuckled darkly. “Thought so.”

With one hand, he held you against him, his hips pressing against your backside, hard and deliberate. With the other, he slid his fingers down, slow and possessive—finding just how soaked you already were.

“Jesus, baby… You’re drippin’. All that attitude just a cover for how bad you want me, huh?”

You nodded breathlessly.

“I said, huh?”

“Yes, Daddy…”

That earned another smack—sharper this time, but laced with the drag of his palm soothing the burn right after.

“That’s more like it.”

You gasped when his fingers slid inside you, deep and slow. Taunting. Controlled. His other hand gripped your throat, not choking—but firm enough to make you stay. Stay in place. Stay still. Stay his.

“That little mouth gets you in trouble,” he breathed. “But this right here… This part of you? She tells the truth. She knows who you belong to.”

You whimpered.

“Elvis, I—”

He pulled his fingers out and brought them to your lips.

“Open.”

You obeyed, eyes locked on his, your bratty attitude long gone—replaced by pure need, pure heat, pure surrender.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, sliding inside you with one long, punishing thrust. “Now take it.”

And you did. Every inch. Every command. Every dirty, worship-soaked second of it.

Because no matter how mouthy you got…

You lived for the way he put you in your place.

“Look at you,” he growled against your neck, voice ragged with heat. “So damn cocky earlier, now you’re cryin’ into my sheets.”

You gasped when his hand snaked around to rub your clit, slow circles that made your knees shake.

“Y-You’re bein’ mean…”

He laughed darkly, thrusting into you hard enough to make the headboard slam against the wall.

“I ain’t even started bein’ mean, baby. This is what you get when you act like a damn brat.”

His hips didn’t stop. That rhythm—deep, punishing, possessive—hit every sweet, aching spot. Your nails clawed at the sheets, desperate to hold on.

“But you love it, don’t you?” he muttered, lips brushing your ear. “You need it rough. Need me to tear you apart and put you back together.”

He leaned over you, chest to your back, breath hot on your neck.

“Say it.”

You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut.

“Say it, or I’ll stop.”

“I need it,” you gasped. “I need you—just like this.”

“Damn right you do.”

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head with one strong hand, keeping you helpless as he drove into you faster, harder, deeper.

“Your body’s honest even when your mouth ain’t,” he rasped. “She knows who she belongs to. Don’t she, baby?”

You choked on a moan. “Yes, Daddy…”

He let out a low groan, his rhythm faltering as he pulled out suddenly and flipped you onto your back like you weighed nothing.

“I wanna see that bratty little face when I make you come,” he hissed, spreading your legs wide, dragging the tip along your dripping center. “Wanna watch you fall apart on my cock.”

You arched into him, your body already trembling. He slid back inside with a growl, stretching you open until all you could do was sob his name.

“Uh-huh. There she is. That’s my girl. Not so mouthy now, huh?”

He held your jaw, making you look up at him.

“You’ll remember this next time you roll those eyes at me. Next time you pout and sass me like you’re not beggin’ for this deep down.”

You nodded desperately, tears of pleasure streaking down your cheeks. You were so close it hurt.

“I’m gonna come—Elvis, please—”

“You ask permission,” he snapped, slowing just enough to keep you teetering.

“Please, Daddy, please let me come—!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he growled. “Go on then. Come for me, baby. Make a mess.”

And you did.

It ripped through you like lightning—back arched, thighs shaking, a cry of his name strangled in your throat as you shattered beneath him.

He didn’t let up.

Not even when you begged.

Not even when your body gave in a second time—overstimulated, ruined, completely undone.

Because he wasn’t just f**king you.

He was owning you.

——————————————-

You were still trembling when he came back from the drawer—box in hand, sweat slick on his chest, eyes dark like sin.

“What’s in there?” you mumbled, breathless, limp across the bed.

He set it down with a thud.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said with a slow grin. “You said you wanted a surprise.”

You tried to crawl back, instincts screaming—but he caught your ankle with one hand and dragged you back under him.

“Uh-uh. No runnin’. Not after all that mouth earlier. You wanted Daddy to lose control, didn’t you?”

Your eyes widened when he pulled out the silk rope.

“Elvis…”

“Don’t you ‘Elvis’ me now,” he growled, voice low and dangerous. “You earned every second of this.”

He flipped you onto your stomach and began tying your wrists to the headboard with skillful ease, leaving your back arched, legs trembling.

You were on display—helpless, soaking, still flushed from your last orgasm.

And then you heard it.

Click.

Your eyes darted up.

There was a mirror above the bed. One of his little renovations. And now? You were staring up at your reflection—messy, bound, wrecked.

“Elvis…” you whispered.

He climbed back behind you, dragging the tip of a vibrator down your spine.

“See what I see, baby?” he purred in your ear. “See how good you look ruined for me?”

He flicked it on.

You screamed.

The toy pressed against your clit while he slid back inside you, deep and unforgiving. The overstimulation made your thighs shake instantly, your cries echoing off the walls.

“That’s it, cry for me,” he growled. “Let ‘em hear you from downstairs. Let ‘em all know who makes you feel like this.”

He thrust harder, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your hip tight enough to bruise.

The mirror above reflected everything—his wild eyes, your twisted sheets, the way your body obeyed him even when it couldn’t take any more.

You sobbed, begging—nonsense words, broken pleas.

But he didn’t stop.

Not when you came again.

Not when your legs collapsed.

Not even when your voice gave out.

Because you were his.

And tonight?

He was gonna make sure you never forgot it.

———————-

You collapsed against the sheets, breath stuttering, mind buzzing.

Your legs were still shaky, wrists tingling where the rope had held you, your whole body humming and tender.

And Elvis—

The wild fire in him softened the minute he saw you melt.

He brushed your hair back with both hands, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he leaned in close.

“Hey… hey, look at me, baby,” he whispered, voice warm and low. “You with me?”

Your eyes fluttered open, and he smiled—so gentle, so full of something that made your chest ache.

“There she is,” he murmured, kissing your forehead. “My sweet girl.”

He untied you slowly, carefully, like you were something precious. Every knot undone with a kiss to your wrist, a warm breath across your skin, a whispered “you did so good for me.”

When he finally pulled you into his chest, you sank into him instinctively, face pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you strong and steady—protective, grounding.

“Shh… I got you,” he whispered, rocking you just a little. “You’re okay, baby. I’m right here.”

His fingers traced slow circles up and down your spine, easing out the leftover trembles.

Every touch was soft. Reverent.

The same hands that had held you down like you belonged to him were now touching you like you were something breakable.

He kissed the top of your head, then your temple, then your jaw—tiny kisses, feather-light.

“You gave me everything,” he whispered against your skin. “So damn proud of you.”

You let out a small, exhausted sound, and he pulled the blanket over both of you, tucking you close.

“Breathe with me, darlin’,” he murmured, guiding your inhale with the rise of his chest. “Nice and slow. That’s it… easy now.”

One of his hands slid up to cradle the back of your head, holding you against the warm curve of his neck.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “You hear me? Safe with me. Always.”

You nudged closer, and he chuckled softly, kissing your cheek.

“Mm, that’s my girl… Come here.”

He cupped your face gently and pressed your lips together—slow, lingering, tender. Not hungry. Not wild. Just soft.

A promise.

A grounding.

A reminder that he loved every side of you—the bratty, the needy, the undone.

He nuzzled your nose, smiling.

“Didn’t mean to wear you out that much,” he teased lightly. “You alright?”

You nodded into his chest, and he held you tighter, burying his face in your hair.

“Good,” he whispered. “Rest right here, baby. I’ll stay with you. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

And he didn’t.

He stayed there with you—warm, gentle, humming low under his breath while you drifted off, wrapped in his arms

oop- so I have an Elvis sin to confess… I actually haven’t watched Agent Elvis yet 🤧 however I thoroughly enjoyed everybody thirsting over cartoon Elvis when it first came out

it’s nothing against the show or Priscilla but with the exception of the 2022 film, I tend to not be interested in depictions of Elvis simply because it’s not really Elvis and I only like him lmaoo

and for that reason Elvis impersonators also sadly don’t do anything for me, I wish I could enjoy them but in my head I’m just constantly comparing them to real Elvis. like if you weren’t born in 1935 and named Elvis Presley then I’m not interested 😤

but some fans were going way too overboard with their dislike for the show and were literally harassing people that said they enjoyed the show (especially on Instagram). They were saying that the show disrespected his memory and that it was too vulgar for Elvis, and I’m like are we talking about the same Elvis? because the man could get vulgar, just listen to any studio session in the 70s

idk I might give it a watch somewhere down the line solely because of this 🥵 and if they ever do more seasons I’m definitely tuning in for an animated big daddy elvis

but anyways- could y’all imagine laying in bed with Elvis like this, I need it so badly 😭

NSFW (18+ content)

this is now the 3rd time that I’ve looked at my inbox and my jaw dropped 😃- anyways thank you for the ask <3 !!

I’m just going to break this down by the decades because the man definitely got freakier as the years went along- also forgive me Elvis, I’m sorry to air out your business like this 😭

There is not that much info on his preferences in the 1950s and the only source I have that says something informative is from Albert Goldman's "Elvis" so take this with a grain of salt: Based on an excerpt from his book it seems Elvis was primarily interested in your standard "dirty" magazine such as Playboy. Goldman alleges (and remember Lamar Fike was his main source) that Elvis would send one of the guys, on a monthly basis, down to Hollywood Boulevard where they would purchase such magazines, spending up to 40 dollars. There is also a story in June Juanico's book where she recounts walking in on Elvis and a few of the guys watching a "skin flick". When she questioned Elvis about it he claimed he was invited into the room by Dewey Phillips, not knowing that a p*rno was being shown (do y'all believe him lmaoo?)

and don’t mind him, just casually reading Playboy in the middle of a store 💀

His Polaroids of Priscilla and his tapes of girls wrestling were undoubtedly his preferred form of p*rn in the 1960s. This man would literally spend hundreds of dollars on film to photograph Priscilla. He also had guys in his group, primarily Alan Fortas, film women "making love" and wrestling. There were even tapes made of Priscilla and another woman (reportedly her friend) simulating s*x that Elvis personally filmed

(excerpt from “Down at the End of the Lonely street” by Peter H. Brown)

But according to Joe Esposito and Marty Lacker, who once watched all of the tapes while Elvis was out on tour, he seldom appeared in any of them, and if he did, he was clothed

(excerpt from “Good Rockin’ Tonight” by Joe Esposito)

Billy Smith did say, however, that he found a tape where it showed Elvis and a girl quote “going through the motions” (catch me raiding the Graceland archives to find it)

Elvis' affinity for the Polaroids he took of Priscilla continued throughout the 1970s, Linda Thompson even mentions in her book that he would show them to her. He would also carry them around in a samsonite case pictured below⬇️

(I’m sorry but the fact that he traveled with them is so funny to me 😩, he was serious about them Polaroids!!)

And there is also the notorious story of Elvis boarding a commercial plane, narcotics badge in hand, to prevent an employee referred to as “Hamburger James” by the Memphis Mafia and “Fetchit” by Linda Thompson, from escaping with a few Polaroids of Priscilla that he snatched and a ring of Elvis’, although Linda did say Elvis only really cared about the Polaroids. Elvis dragged Hamburger James off the plane, roughed him up a little, slapped him around, before eventually he letting him go

As the adult film industry evolved in the 1970s, his preferences definitely evolved with it. I'm still shook that Linda Thompson name dropped the two p*rnos that they watched together, but of course when I initially read her book my curiosity got the best of me and I watched what she named… and I'm still scarred 💀 (iykyk)

I wish I could find the comment, but someone on another post mentioned how in the 1970s, that sort of p*rn was "in" and quite avant-garde for the time period. Although the two p*rnos Linda mentioned seemed a little outlandish to me they were actually among the top five highest grossing of the 1970s, so if your perception of Elvis changed after watching "the Devil in Miss Jones", don't worry because everybody was watching it lmaoo. If you want to get another idea of what was highly regarded in the adult film industry at that time, know that "D**p Throat" starring Linda Lovelace was the most popular film of the 1970s, and the whole plot is that she had a medical condition where her cl*toris was located in her throat... they were innovative back then with their ideas, to say the very least 👀

Elvis’ personal copy of “d**p throat” ⬇️

however I do believe that kind of p*rnography was something that Elvis only indulged in for a few years in the early to mid 70s, and I believe that based on a story that Larry Geller told about Elvis which occurred in the late 70s⬇️

“He took me up to Lisa's bedroom which was just across the way from his bedroom. I remember him taking me up there because he wanted me to see her and meet her but she was sleeping so he picked her up in his arms and he held her and brought her to me from her big round white bed. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and I said ‘Elvis, she is a beautiful little girl and you have much to be proud of’ and he turned to me and whispered in my ear as Lisa was still sleeping ‘she is my heart’…”

- Interview with Mindi Miller

oh to be stroking his hair and feeding him popcorn balls 🤧

thank you for the ask <3 !!!

as for the mysterious female companion… that would be Tori Petty, a 20-year-old college student and cheerleader from Oxford, Mississippi (which btw was a 75 mile commute to Memphis… Elvis would be worth it tho 🤭). She met Elvis around 1975 after his 40th birthday and we know they dated for about a year (possibly more) as these photos below were taken on April 3, 1976 ⬇️

George Klein introduced Tori to Elvis after she participated on his "Talent Party" show. Elvis most likely saw her appearance on the show and asked George to set him up, as he did with Cybill Shepherd and Gail Stanton, who both appeared on "Talent Party" and were immediately asked to be seen by Elvis. This is why many of the MM refer to George Klein as Elvis' pimp 💀, as he was the one responsible for setting Elvis up with women

And like many of the women in Elvis’ life, Tori was involved in beauty queen pageants and held the title of “Miss Ole Miss”. I believe she also occasionally modeled for clothing catalogues while being a student

According to George Klein, Elvis began dating Tori while Linda Thompson was staying at the apartment he had leased for her in Los Angeles, California. This goes back to the ask I answered a few days ago regarding Linda and how Elvis would create physical distance between them so he could date other women. Naturally, Linda was upset when she learned about him and Tori 🤧 ⬇️

(excerpt from “Elvis: My Best Man” by George Klein)

And, while Tori has never been formally interviewed for a book like "Baby Let's Play House" by Alanna Nash or "Careless Love" by Peter Guralnick, she has openly spoken about Elvis to a few newspapers and may have appeared on a talkshow in the early 1990s ⬇️

Newspaper from August 11, 1994: “Elvis would fly me back and forth from Memphis to Oxford in a little private jet I was certainly impressed," said Petty, now of Dallas. "I wish I could tell you that he was a sweet, down to earth, ordinary man. He was sweet and he was down to earth, but he was extraordinary." One April afternoon, they went for a ride on Elvis' Harley. They were being followed by a woman in a car, who was working on a pictorial book about the star. "At a red light, Elvis said, 'Look at her give her a good picture, and she'll leave us’ So they did. And, it was in focus, from inside a car, with a Kodak Instamatic. The picture appeared in Betty Page's Got Ya, Elvis, I Got ya, published in 1977. Some time after the Memphis ride, an acquaintance told Petty he saw a picture of her with Elvis and put her in touch with the woman who took it. Petty got a print. "It's framed and depending on what else is going on in my life, I either put it in the closet or hang it on the wall." - Interview with Tori Petty

(courtesy of “Clarion-Ledger” on newspapers.com)

As for the possible television appearance, according to this newspaper⬇️, Tori Petty and Gail Stanton ( the playboy model Elvis dated) were interviewed on Geraldo Riveras' talkshow which was set to air on January 8th, 1991 for Elvis’ birthday. I've searched every archive site I know and haven't been able to find the episode 😭 !! In fact, I don't even see the episode listed on Geraldo’s archive which has every season and the names of its’ episodes, so I'm wondering if it ever even aired

Newspaper from December 29, 1990: What would you have to do to wind up being interviewed by Geraldo Rivera? For Memphian Gail Stanton it was nothing deviant or even horrible. That distinction was saved for the interview itself, her grilling by the king of the naughty interview is scheduled to air Jan 8 (10 am on WHBQ-TV). Geraldo was kind of conniving said Ms Stanton ,36, who holds the distinction of being the only Frayser woman who has been a Playboy Playmate of the Month. That was in June 1978 when she followed in the footsteps of Mississippian Stella Stevens with a nude Playboy pose from sea to shining sea. That piqued Geraldo but his real interest was in another distinction. That was Ms Seventies fling with hometown boy Elvis Presley. It was Elvis's Jan 8 birthday that inspired producers to delve once again into the things from drugs to gossipy stepbrothers to girlfriends. The show taped last week included Ms Stanton who was a Shelby County computer programmer before she turned centerfold spread and Tori Petty a former Ole Miss cheerleader who also dated Elvis. Ms Stanton said Geraldo seemed to give short shrift to other guests such as Charles Thompson coauthor of The Death of Elvis spent quite a bit of time- (illegible). Geraldo knows how to turn those questions around, Ms Stanton says, “I think he was trying to get us to say something like whether we'd been to bed with Elvis and of course that's our personal information”. As for Elvis, Ms Stanton volunteers memories such as how he was a Southern gentleman, “There aren't too many men today who open doors for you or are polite and he was. He didn't blast away TV sets in her presence or talk incessantly about mama or even act moody or strange”. She says “He played the piano for me and sang. How many people can say they have been serenaded by Elvis Presley?" - Interview with Gail Stanton

(courtesy of “The Commercial Appeal” on newspapers.com)

And lastly, I found this book that briefly mentions her and the jacket that was given to her by Elvis <3 ⬇️