I Keep Craving Craving Novels & Stories

Even before she had gotten a job, it was the same case, she husteled beyond her ability just to get something for her hair, makeup and toiletry, clothes were always number last to her, for as long as she had that pretty dolly face, she was super! Days passed by, cravings grew day by day. Het cravings were to die for, she used to crave things she had never craved before, like Liquie Fruits, Snacks, naartjies or oranges, with a fanta orange or sprite, with barbeque simba chips, without the fanta or sprite, she had nothing to buy. She used to buy lots of the naartjies, but she couldn't stop until she went out of money. The cravings went on and on such such that they required her to borrow money

"Let it go, I'm fine. Didn't you see the other thing except for my breakdown?" "Yeah the porn" "That was.... you know what I don't wanna drag this topic. Quickly tell me what you're craving" I tried changing the topic, "Don't use my cravings as your shield but also, I want some Nutella and Cheetos" "Hey, no junk foods. Something healthy" "What, this is my craving, no no this my baby's craving they both want Nutella and Cheetos" "I'm not bringing junk foods end of discussion now think some real foods this time"

It was like she had multiple lives and I wasn’t privy to them. Me: Anna, could you bring in some snacks and drinks for me and the twins? We are going to be doing some research in my office. Anna: Of course, are you wanting anything special? Me: No. Just bring us things every so often, or check-in to see if we need anything. Me: Oh wait. Actually, could you bring in some strawberry ice cream and barbeque chips? Anna: Okay, will do Luna. That was perhaps the weirdest craving I have had ever. Yet the salty tangy chip dipped into strawberry ice cream sounded amazing right now. The thought of my cravings had me thinking about Caleb and how he ended up liking the last craving I had with my lunch m

She's mine and I am hers. "Damn! What's happening to me? Why am I craving for foods that I don't usually eat, like lechon? When I saw Amberine eating in the living room, I immediately salivated. I really want it now, right now." "Bullshit! I look like a starving person with this craving for lechon. Did I eat something that triggered these sweet cravings that I'm experiencing now? Damn it! I even threw up earlier, that's why I went home early because I didn't feel well."

Yet, alongside this craving, there is an undeniable longing for something sweet, a sugary indulgence to balance the intensity of my desires. My eyes dart around the store, scanning the shelves filled with various products. I can feel the excitement building within me as I search for the perfect combination of flavors and textures. The choices seem endless, but none of them seem to satisfy the unique cravings that have taken hold of me. As I continue my quest, a sense of discomfort begins to intensify. The tightness in my skin feels suffocating, as if my body is rebelling against its boundaries. An incessant itch lingers beneath the surface, tempting me to scratch and claw at my own flesh. Th

All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire. —Edgar Allan poe DARIUS Some presences choke you like smoke, but hers,hers lit me on fire. And I hadn’t burned in years. “Again,” I yelled at the men sprinting across the field. Their strides had slowed, a clear contrast of the burst of energy they started with. I pushed them harder than usual, not out of discipline, but because I needed the noise to drown out the chaos in my chest.

Clar was practicing yoga late at night when she suddenly felt an overwhelming hunger. The emptiness in her stomach was impossible to ignore, and she couldn't help but imagine various delicious dishes: "I really crave sweet and sour potatoes, braised pork, mapo tofu, and snail noodles..." This intense longing was clearly driven by her extended period without food.

“We are.” The craving had only just begun.

It hurt to hold, but she didn’t let it go. She began to write that night—not to him, not to anyone, but to herself. Small sentences. Simple truths. My breath is mine. My body remembers more than his touch. My craving is a symptom, not a bond. She wrote until her hand cramped. And when she finally stopped, she realized she was breathing on her own again—shallow, uneven, but hers. The craving didn’t vanish, but it changed shape. It no longer felt like devotion. It felt like hunger—one she could starve if she chose to.