I am part of a rare breed - my kind makes up 10% of the worlds’ population. Do you feel really honored to read my words right now? You totally should.
Because I’m left-handed.
My dominant right hand gene shied away at the mere thought of that recessive left-handed gene swooping in…
And so my dextrity fate was decided. Forever. Amen.
When I was a little bitty people tried to change which hand I used to write with.
Because a left-handed five year old yielding right-handed scissors has BIG MISTAKE written all over it. Apparently. So I’ve been told. Especially when that five year old has the attention span of a gnat and the hyperactivity of a puppy. And an uncanny ability to tune out directions like it was my job.
Oh yes. I was a treat.
Anyway, in a desperate attempt to adhere to at least a few general safety guidelines, my teachers tried to change the way I wrote.
There was training and pleading to write and cut and draw and eat with my right hand. They stuck me in a right-handed desk (the one with the sweet little arm rest) and asked if I could try to write another way.
And they all failed quite miserably because I am still a right-hand scissors bearing leftie.*
I was genetically designed to be a south paw. And no amount of coercing or attempts to change that will ever be successful.
Because that’s how I was made.
Sometimes we feel as if we got the short end of the stick on certain things. Sometimes others even feel as if we were cheated out of something.
So attempts for change and transformation are made.
And sometimes they are successful.
And sometimes they are not.
We are all born with a certain code. We can fight to change that code or we can embrace that code. It makes us who we are: it is how God designed us.
Our sweet little DNA has been hard at work crafting who and what we will become. It works tirelessly to make sure that we are not the same as anyone else.
Just like snowflakes and tree leaves, people are all unique.
My dear friend, this is my invitation to you: embrace what makes you different. Don’t conform to the “norms” simply because you are told to.
God made you you. Quirks and all. Genetic code and all.
You are enough. You will always be enough. Don’t let anyone try to change who you were meant to be.
Yay, I tried that meme thing where you draw the same picture with all of your hands and feet- It’s amazing, I am left handed and my left foot also worked better than my right foot so this is a beautiful proof for the fact that it’s really about the brain and not only about practice.
(the cat is my favorite because in the first picture it looks surprised, in the second picture it looks concerned, in the third picture it’s very unhappy and in the last one it’s just super pissed.)
Hey y’all! So this one was inspired by the gif at the bottom when Seb is talking about Bucky’s hobbies. HAHA! This is my first smut which is very terrifying so I hope you guys like it! Thank you so much to @dontstopwiththelyin for proof reading and making me less scared to post it :) Enjoy! Happy Wednesday!
Warnings: Smut, language, masturbation (is masturbation separate than smut who knows)
His back was leaning against the headboard. His head was flopped back, exposing the pulsing veins in his neck. His chest was beat red, his breathing labored and loud. His dark hair was clinging to the sweat beading on his forehead. His jaw was slack and his eyes were clenched shut.
Under his eyelids he could see every inch of you. Your long wavy hair, your bright eyes, your effortless smile, the curve of your waist, the small dip in your shoulder from your bra strap, the pockets on the back of your jeans.
How he wanted to dig his hands in those pockets, to swirl his tongue around your mouth, to pop the latch on your bra, to slide your panties down your long, soft legs.
He wanted to smell your scent, taste your arousal, listen to you moan, kiss every inch of your body, make you scream his name.
Just thinking of you was sending him over the edge.
But you had no idea.
You had just finished eating dinner and were heading back to your room. The elevator doors opened and you stepped out onto the floor with the team’s rooms. You started toward your door when Steve’s voice stopped you.
“(Y/N), I think Bucky’s calling you.”
“Oh.” You were confused. “How’d he know I was up here already?” Why didn’t he just come and get you? You thought.
“I don’t know, but he’s definitely calling you” Steve said as he started downstairs and closed the door behind him.
You walked up to the door of Bucky’s bedroom and said through the door “Buck? Did you need me?”
You heard him call your name again so you opened the door to see him sprawled out on the bed pumping his length.
“Jesus!” And as fast as you opened the door you closed it. “Sorry, sorry, sorry!”
You heard him curse as you snuck across the hall into your own room and closed the door. Oh my God. You were so embarrassed. You couldn’t imagine how he felt.
You sat on your bed mortified, wishing you could turn back time, that you never opened that door. Then your mind replayed what you saw. You had only been in the room for a second but you got a clear look of him. His mouth gaping open, his toned torso clenching, the metal of his hand shining as it flew up and down.
You had liked Bucky for a while now, but never told a soul. You were too nervous, he was doing so well after everything that’s happened to him, and you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence around him, never mind tell him your secret.
But this changed things. He was yelling your name. The thought sent shivers down your spine and heat to your stomach.
Before you could think any more, you heard a soft knock on your door. You hoped it was Steve. You would kill him.
But you opened the door and Bucky stood on the other side, looking sheepishly at the floor. His eyes flew up to yours and you realized you weren’t the only one who was completely mortified by this experience.
“(Y/N), I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were-”
“No, no, Bucky it’s okay, don’t-”
“I just, um, I-”
“Yeah, me too.”
All fear left his eyes. You liked him too. The half smile he was wearing was driving you insane. So you kissed it.
You pulled him into your room and closed the door. His hands on your hips spun you around and you crashed against the door. Tilting your head against his, you fisted his shirt in your hands. His metal arm was wrapped all the way around you while his flesh hand sunk into the back pocket of your jeans.
Only when you had to come up for air did you pull away from his face enough to look in his eyes. They were bright, brilliant blue. He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, and as he did, you felt his length against your stomach.
You looked down and bit your lip hard when you saw him pressing against the front of this grey sweatpants. You fiddled with the band of the pants.
“Want some help with that?”
He laughed and you took turns pulling each others shirts off. You pulled him in for one long, slow kiss as your hands glided down his chest and stomach.
He watched as you pulled the string on his pants loose and they fell to the floor. His lack of boxers allowed his long, thick length to spring free, shooting electricity from your chest to your core.
Your hazy brain finally cleared and you reached for him. His hands cupped your face and brought you into another kiss while he unlatched your bra and tossed it on the chair a couple feet away from where you stood.
Your tongues battled as he cupped and lightly squeezed your breasts. You gasped for air when his fingers brushed your nipple, and he released you from your kiss so his lips could stain your neck.
His growled into your skin when your hand gripped his length and bit down as you pumped it. His hands traveled down your back and hungrily squeezed your ass, pulling the lace panties away.
Your quiet “Buck” turned into a squeal when he picked you up and gently laid you down on the bed. The two of you were so hungry for each other, but he was so gentle with you, it made your head spin and your heart swell.
He filled you completely with slow, direct thrusts. “Oh god, doll. Shit, baby girl. You feel so good.” His voice was low, his words long and drawn out. His face was pressed into your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive skin.
His thrusts grew harder as he kissed your lips. His hand grazed the inside of your thigh and landed on your clit, rubbing small circles.
Your mouth hung open and he took your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it. Your arms wrapped around his body, fingers digging into his strong shoulder blades.
“Come on, baby. I wanna see you come undone for me. Come on, doll.”
Orgasm surged through you, his name was the only word you could think to say. He held you and praised you as you shook and arched underneath him.
He wasn’t far behind you, his thrusts were wild and his voice was strained. “Shit, baby, I’m gonna-fuckfuckfuck.”
He collapsed on top of you, a weight you adored feeling. You brushed his hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead. He rolled to the side of you, his chest still heaving, his limbs heavy.
He tucked his arm under your head and you drew patterns in his chest until you could find the strength to sit up on your elbow and press your lips against his.