gorging myself on you, still can't get full (insatiable)

"Fine, whatever. Love you too, asshole. I hope you enjoy your walk home with your stupid, grainy bread. Taking Nature's Own a little too much to heart, but sure," Dean tells him, flashing him a sarcastic smile and swiveling around in the aisle to march away. He throws out something over his shoulder, careless and barbed. "I'm not paying for that shitty cardboard." Dean's three aisles over when he realizes what, precisely, he said. Thankfully, when he comes to this conclusion, he's holding a box of poptarts, so when he fumbles and drops them to the floor, it's not a huge mess. He stares down at the slightly dented box of Brown Sugar Poptarts, and he has a very swift and very unshakeable crisis right there and then. Love you too, asshole. No, no, no. Why would he say that? Why would he do that? In the middle of the goddamn grocery store while arguing about bread? That's not—that can't be how it happens. That can't be.