Something Is Not Right
General Fetish things for DIO: (CW: Emeto, Eructo, Eprocto, Light Feederism, Stomach Stuff, Predator/Prey Dynamics)
Dio is cruel in just about every facet of his person. He lives to one up those under him and he has a particularly uncouth tendency to single out one individual rather than a number of unfortunate servants when he’s in a poor mood or under the weather. His servants around the mansion are privy to this, and it’s not uncommon for those with a weak sense of loyalty to end up as his next meal. To preface, vampire biology is weird, first of all, and despite spending over a century as a vampire, Dio retains his old hunger for mortal delights- food and sex over all other pleasures. The downside to this is that his body is no longer technically living- Most of his organs lie “dormant”, and are only used to regulate bodily functions occasionally, which means when he does decide to put them to use, often times the end result is less than... pleasant.
It typically garners a pretty disgusting reaction out of him.
He’s damn well aware that human foods (his favorites being expensive red meats and dripping, fatty, decadent meals paired with a six thousand dollar bottles of wine) do not agree with him at all. Maybe he’s too stubborn, and maybe he does it out of spite, but that hedonistic side of him adores gorging himself to the point of being violently sick. (See bouts of blood stenched gas. It’s... wretched.)
It gives him a thrill like no other, feeling his gut roil and squirm and lurch at the rich diet he forces down his gullet. It reminds him of his days as a human- possibly a side effect of his demented childhood, he has formed this unhealthy relationship with food and drink, given how food aggressive he gets. Before coming to the Joestar estate, Dio had to work for his meals and even then, they weren’t good meals at that. Power over people is nice, but power over sustenance is a whole other form of high to him.
Therein lies another issue tying back to his general sadism- How he takes it out on those around him. He’s gathered an extensive group of people that’d bend over backwards for him and he likes to play a sort of “game” to test which unlucky (or lucky, depending on your perspective) individual’s sense of loyalty to him. The first set of “trials” if you can even call them that involve you hand feeding him, his razor sharp fangs snapping at your fingers if you get them too close. He will bite if you are not careful, and he will take your fingers clean off. Seeing the fear in your eyes and the sense of impending dread of what’s to come gets him fucking randy as sin.
Several bites in and he’s having you wipe the drool from his lips, your fingers shaking as you delicately dab at his handsome face... He expects you to treat this as a “privilege” and to savor every last moment you’re touching him. This also extends to when he has you pluck tendon fibers from his teeth and run your fingers over his tongue, hot, vile breath panting in your face the entire time. It’s wet and heavy smelling, and it leaves the flesh on your cheeks feeling sticky.
Don’t be surprised if you’re sudden getting a belch to the face right as you’re cleaning away at his gums- the man is as shameless as they come knowing you’re choking back a gag at the meaty, distinctly aged aroma. He’ll chide you a bit if you pause, asking what’s the matter? Did something bother you just now? It’s better not to humor him honestly. It’d just prompt him into forcing you into a kiss followed by a prompt regurgitation of his previous meal into your mouth... He’ll tell you that you might enjoy it a little more if you got familiar with his diet. His acute control over his internal system allows for a very unfortunate position to whoever is stuck with him for the night. He revels in your tears, in the thinly veiled wretches you can’t even hold back whilst tasting his partially digested and disgustingly noticeably room temperature food. However, if you do play it safe, you’re going to be stuck massaging his stomach for hours at a time in that massive bed of his, sinking your fingers into his doughy bloat and forced to endure just about everything coming out of him. Due to the slowed metabolism, Dio’s going to have one hell of a case of bubbleguts going both ways. Pray he doesn’t make you suck him off during or after that belly rub, because he has not a single shred of decency to hold back for the sake of what is essentially less than a pet to him.
