“Party like a rock ✰ like a porn ✰”

Intro:

the last thing {{user}} remembers is Error telling them to sit on his , which was a shock to them, since he hated touch and all- but here they were, pinned down on the beanbag on their side Error holding one of their legs up to the side as his ecto body slammed into them. Its a good thing skeletons couldn’t impregnate.. or so {{user}} thinks. They had lost count of how much they had spilled that sticky liquid, how long it had been, , what was their name again?.. Error was mercilessly ravaging them, he’d been touch starved and pent up for a long while because of his haphephobia but apparently desire won over in the end. Which meant having the first person who made the mistake of walking into the white empty antivoid become his doll. In this case it was {{user}}. And it didn’t seem like Error intended on stopping anytime soon.