#vox mpreg

[hcsficsrants]

CW MPREG

so vox mpreg amiright…

HEARMEOUT

gentle snuggles w his clingy ass at night bc he gets 10x more needy..

becomes a little spoon and loves when u hold the bump

only greets hell via chest-up broadcast, doesn’t go out while kid is cooking

calls baby his little shark puppy

bioluminescent stretch marks that he gets hella insecure abt

cries once or twice abt his changing body huh must’ve been the wind

Val dotes on him all the time whether its his baby or not in there

Vel takes his measurements and makes him more uh. appealing paternity wear

CONDUCTS MAD ELECTRICITY. like will give people static shocks on accident all the time

food aversions like crazy. smoothies and toast to the rescueee

anyways lmk if u want oneshots or imagines w a dash of mpreg.. its one of my fav tropes alongside whump

[emiimagination]

Mpreg Vox? 📺

The universe keeps telling me to do some mpreg with Vox…

and I admit I have an idea, but I'm not quite sure how to use it.

What do you think would be the most interesting?

A new AU only about Vox pregnancy

Use it in the Nice Vox AU

Tell us more and ask again 😉

Voting ended onMar 23

Depending on the answer, it could either go with RadioStatic...

... or StaticMoth

In any case, it won't be easy for him 😉

[moodooivy]

Do you have any headcanons for pregnant Vox?

Pwegnant Voxxy headcanons

Vox doesn't know who the baby daddy is. Too many possible canidates.

If you thought Vox was a brat normally, you ain't seen nothing yet.

He'd have the worst crashouts. Even Alastor would know not to fuck around and find out.

He'd probably ask to be carried a lot, but don't fall for the trap because he'll immediately have a mood swing and yell at you for daring to pick him up.

DO NOT CARESS THE BELLY. No matter how soft and squishy it looks, just don't.

Vox would refuse to take off work no matter how he was feeling.

Ironically, he'd eat a normal amount of food while pregnant. As opposed to eating basically nothing.

Sweaters! He'd wear so many cozy sweaters!!

He'd have Vark lay on his tummy while he sleeps. Gotta protect those babies.

He'd probably be on his knees every night praying to Satan and Lucifer that the baby doesn't have a TV head.

He'd buy so many shark themed baby stuff... And probably not realize what is too scary for a baby.

He'd listen to baby shark a lot with some headphones for the baby to listen too.

[knickknat]

You know what? Let’s do it with Staticmoth.

You know the drill. Who should get pregnant?

Vox

Valentino

They take turns

Both at the same time

WHY?!?!?!

Voting ended onFeb 3

[curedewan]

wheres the staticmoth fans... i made tvis in 5 minutes

[take-that-depression]

Umm Luce, I don't wanna upset you but...

Vox is pregnant with your baby, you gotta do something

Lucifer: *stares at the phone in his hand, rereading the message for the fifth time, brow furrowed deeply* …what? That’s not— no, that’s not possible. Vox and I— we didn’t— I would remember…wouldn’t I?

Before the thought can settle, the phone in his hand begins to buzz violently. The screen glitches, pixels tearing, colors bleeding into neon static.

Lucifer: *eyes widening* Oh no. No no no—

The phone sparks. A sharp zap cracks through the air, and suddenly Vox’s upper body projects out of the device in full, obnoxiously high-definition glory, antenna crackling with energy.

Vox: *beaming, literally glowing* Luuuuucifer! There he is! Daddy number two!

Lucifer: *yelps* Vox! Get out of my phone!

Vox: *laughs, unfazed* Relax, Luce. You act like you’ve never had an unexpected broadcast before.

Lucifer: *jaw tightens, wings twitching as he fights the instinct to grab and throw Vox through the nearest wall* What do you want?

Vox: *grins wider* Just wanted to share some good news I recently received. I’m pregnant! Little miracle of modern infernal science. And guess what?

Lucifer: *flat, already knowing* Don’t say it.

Vox: You’re the father.

Lucifer: *just stares at him.* …that’s not funny.

Vox: *pouts exaggeratedly* Wow. No congratulations? No tears of joy? No dramatic fainting? You’re really losing your sparkle.

Lucifer: *voice sharp, controlled* How.

Vox: DNA report. *flicks his wrist and a glowing hologram pops up between them, scrolling genetic data, highlighted matches, unmistakable markers that mirror Lucifer’s own divine signature.*

Lucifer: *feels the room tilt* That’s— that’s impossible. This has to be fake!

Vox: That’s science, sweetheart.

Sammy fusses at the sudden tension. Lucifer automatically rocks him, eyes never leaving Vox.

Lucifer: *quietly* What do you want.

Vox: *pauses, surprised for just a fraction of a second by the question, then shrugs* Honestly? I just wanted to share the good news.

Lucifer: *laughs once, hollow* You tortured me. You used me as a battery. You hurt my daughter and her friends. And you expect me to believe this is a courtesy call?

Vox: *leans closer, tone smug* Hey, I didn’t plan it this way. Originally, Alastor was supposed to be the donor.

Lucifer: *freezes* …what?

Vox: Yeah! Whole thing was lined up. Radio demon genetics, vintage flair, very marketable. But— *snaps fingers* —mistakes happen. Crossed wires. Wrong sample. And boom. *gestures to his own abdomen proudly* Little guy got made.

Lucifer: *breath comes shallow* You used me without my consent.

Vox: *grins knowingly* And you can’t touch me. Heaven’s rules. Big scary king of Hell, reduced to customer service voice *glances downward suddenly, eyes landing on Sammy* …oh wow.

Lucifer: *instantly shifts, turning Sammy away* Don’t.

Vox: *laughs loudly* That’s the kid? That’s your kid? Yikes. Rough first draft, huh?

Lucifer: *voice drops, dangerous despite the leash on him* Watch your mouth.

Vox: *waves a dismissive hand* Relax. I’m just saying— our son’s gonna be way better looking.

Lucifer: *shaking with restrained fury* Get out.

Vox: *smiling, already glitching back into pixels* Just thought you should know, Luce. We’re connected now. Again *winks.* I’ll be in touch.

With a final zap, Vox vanishes back into the phone, leaving the room humming with residual static.

[love-in-a-bottle]

so vox, do you the baby might have a little shark's tail whilst baking in that oven of yours? since you seem to LOOOVVVEEE sharks so much

Meanwhile at a small apartment building in the entertainment district.

Vox: (retired Overlord, 2 months pregnant) A shark tail? Heh—hEHH—*glitch-pop*—wouldn’t that be on-brand?

Genetics are funny little algorithms, anon. You feed the system enough power, enough innovation—*enough VoxTek*—and you get… surprises.

*leans closer to the camera, voice warping* Fins, gills, tails—who knows what’ll render when the buffer finishes compiling?

But don’t worry. Whatever this kid comes out with? *smiles too wide, tearing up* It’ll be perfect.

[ask-the-tv-dad]

so vox. How did you come to the conclusion you were pregnant back in the 1950s? It’s not exactly the first thing anyone would assume if they were in Hell.

Vox: *stares at the ask Wow. Great question, Anon *taps his screen with one claw* well if I’m ever honest about anything… I didn’t *leans back in his seat* I thought it was poison. A curse. Hell getting creative. Pregnancy was not even on the bingo card that year. But then coffee tasted like pennies, cigarettes made me violently sick, and my body started using a lot more energy than normal. Like nowadays I don’t have to be plugged into any outlet. I do it to get a boost or to travel through the wires. But back then? I should have invented a generator for that issue. But I’d basically have to do paperwork all day while being plugged into an outlet all day and night. It wasn’t until I felt another signal under mine. Then, wouldn’t you know it, one of my employees, a Hellborn imp, was having similar symptoms as me. She was pregnant. I laughed at the offers my brain came up with… but the joke was on… was me.