hawaiian woman

Honeymoon

Pairing: Hotch x Reader

Word Count: 1,670

Request: Yes!! Leave any requests here

Warnings: smut

Summary: Requester asked:  “Can you possibly do a passionate but rough Aaron smut. Like honeymoon sex.”  Get ready folks.

Originally posted by profiler-in-training

Aaron waited in the lobby of the hotel for you, watching the rest of the visitors dance around the vacant floor and hold each other close.  He was aching to feel you in his arms again, finally as his wife.

It’s been about three days since you exchanged your vows and promised each other to have and to hold till death do you part, and he kept calling you Mrs. Hotchner in awe of the way it sounded.  He was the luckiest man on earth, he knew that much.

In Cancun for your honeymoon, Aaron decided to shower you in luxury the entire time, giving you the absolute best treatment any woman could ever hope for.  You were staying at the Le Blanc Spa Resort, Aaron not settling for anything less, and you were just so grateful to have such a caring man.  

On the third night of your honeymoon, the resort was having something of a party, streamers and a stage with a band playing live music in the back of the lobby for the beach-clad patrons.  Men wore Hawaiian shirts and woman sported leis and maxi skirts.  The sight of sun kissed couples filled the room, but Aaron’s eyes were on you. 

You stood at the elevator doors, a large yellow hibiscus placed delicately behind your ear.  The coral sarong that was tied around your waist fell beautifully at your feet, and on top you wore your favorite white lace crop top, giving your adoring husband a glimpse of what he craved oh so much.

The minute his eyes found yours, his heart skipped a beat and his face lit up almost as much as it had when you first appeared at the end of the aisle three days before clad in white elegance.  

He looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time, and your heart swelled at the thought of his love for you.

“You, Mrs. Hotchner, look absolutely stunning,” he said when you finally made your way to him.  Your blush was immediate and you couldn’t help but smile down at your flip flops.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Hotchner,” you replied with a grin.  Standing up on your tippy-toes, you gave your husband a quick peck on the lips, your smiles firmly pressed against each other.

“Care to dance?” he asked, holding his hand out for you.  You smile again and take his hand, letting him lead you out onto the dance floor,

Despite Aaron’s usually hard and strict demeanor, he knew how to have fun.  The two of you danced around to the upbeat songs the band was playing, all laughs and dreamy eyes.  He spun you around multiple times, sending you into fits of giggles each time as you loved this cute, playful side of him.

After a few fun and light-hearted songs, the band decided to slow things down a bit, giving you a chance to hold your hubby close.  He smelled so sweet, and he was becoming more and more irresistible by the minute.  

He held you so gently, yet firm.  It was just like the reception of your wedding when the two of you shared your first dance as husband and wife.

Dancing in the middle of the dance floor, it felt like it was just the two of you.  The sound of chatter was soon drowned out by that of the slow, melodic song the band played and all you could hear was the music and your heartbeats.

Leaning back, you looked up at Aaron.  “Thank you,” you said.  It was probably the thousandth time your had thanked him for this amazing weekend, and you knew you would probably do it until the day you died.

“I would do anything for you, Y/N,” he replied.  His eyes were so sincere.  Your heart once again palpitated at the amount of love you felt for this man.  “I love you so much,” he finished.

“I love you, too Aaron,” you told him before pulling his face to yours, giving him the most passionate kiss you felt was possible.

* * *

An hour and a half later, you and Aaron were back in the comfort of your suite, sipping on complimentary wine and stealing shy glances at each other like a couple of teenagers.

“What?” you asked.  Aaron was looking at you with a giant grin on his face.  He always did that, but this man made you feel so shy for some reason.

“You’re just so goddamn beautiful,” he told you.  Once again, you blushed crimson and looked down at your glass of wine.  “And you’re my wife.”  When he said this, it sounded almost as if he was still shocked that you had said yes two years ago when he’d asked you to marry him.

“And you’re my husband,” you replied, taking a sip of the red juice.

“And I am so lucky,” he said, standing from his spot to inch closer to you.  You sat your glass onto the table next to you, ready to embrace your husband.  But instead of him sitting next to you, he took your hands in his and pulled you up out of your seat.

“Aaron, I am all danced out, I don’t think I can-”

“I don’t want to dance with you.  I want to make love to you,” he said simply.  Your heart fluttered at the sound of those words put together.  Man, did he have an affect on you.  You felt your face heat up fro the millionth time that day and let your man pull you to the bedroom.

Slowly, he back your up until the back of your knees were touching the bed.  You still wore the crop top and sarong, but in no time, Aaron pulled loose the tiny knot at your waist and the flowing fabric fell at your feet, revealing the tiny bikini bottoms you were wearing.  Your fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, pulling it off him swiftly.  There was music playing from somewhere in the suite, the soft hum of a guitar and a man singing in a language that you didn’t understand, but sounded heavenly.

You were looking into each others eyes so deeply, and you wondered if Aaron could see through you, he was a profiler after all.

Soon, you had Aaron’s shorts pooled at his feet and he had your bikini bottoms across the room.  Despite being incredibly turned on and wanting more, the two of you took it incredibly slow.

“I love you Y/N Hotchner,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver clean down your spine.

“I love your Aaron Hotchner,” you replied in a voice just as soft.

Without a second to waste, he placed his lips to yours, giving you a hot feeling at the pit of your stomach.  You were so aroused but at the same time, you felt nothing but passion in that moment with your husband.

As if he knew you were craving his touch, he reached down between you two and placed his palm flat against your heat.  You moaned with pleasure into his mouth.  He smiled after feeling how ready you were.  Leaning back, he pushed you gently back onto the bed.  You were now laying in from of him, almost completely bare.  When he stepped back to remove his briefs, you weren’t surprised to see his member sticking straight out, evidence of his incredible arousal.

You moaned again just at the sight of him, wanting to feel him inside of you.  You knew it wouldn’t be long.  Aaron liked to go slow, but he was always one to give in.

He slowly knelt down to climb on top of you, he mouth enveloping yours once more.  You knew he was about to cave and give up the slow vanilla soon, so you decided to push his desires more, grabbing onto his cock and slowly pumping him.  Your plan was working, because he then moaned into your mouth this time.

Roughly, he grabbed your wrist from his member and pushed it above your head, holding it tightly so you couldn’t get loose.

But his torture didn’t stop there.  In the next three seconds, his other hand was at your center again, gently rubbing away at your clit.  His mouth explored the flesh of your neck, and your free hand was holding tightly to the bed sheets, desperately grasping to hold onto your climax for as long as possible.  

He wasn’t even inside of you, and you were already so close to the edge.  But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you come with so little contact, so you released the sheets and grabbed onto his hand, making him halt his actions.  You were too ready to feel him fill you up.

“I love you,” he whispered against your neck.  He finally caved and pushed himself inside of you.  Each of his hands were holding onto yours above your head.  You moaned again at the feeling of him enveloped inside of your walls.

“I love you,” you whispered back.

His thrusts were steady at first, slow and beautiful, but it didn’t take long for him to speed up his pace little by little, each time, his tip hitting you deeper and deeper.  You could practically feel him in your stomach when you finally came, screaming out his name to the ceiling, not caring who might’ve heard you.

A few second and a few more rough but slow thrusts later, Aaron reached his limit as well, releasing inside of you.

The man on the radio was singing about his hermoso amor but along with the sultry sound of his voice and the strum of his guitar, you heart the beating hearts of you and your husband and the panting breaths of two people spent.

It was a beautiful sound in your ears and you pulled your husbands face to yours again, giving him a long, passionate kiss to end the night right.

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Kumu Hina

The inspiring documentary, Kumu Hina, introduces us to Hina Wong-Kalu, a Hawaiian transgender woman embracing her cultural heritage in contemporary Honolulu as a respected teacher (or “kumu”), an active cultural council member, and a newlywed.

 

ALOHA the movie: The complainers have missed the mark

Boy, oh boy, have people been getting up in arms about the new Cameron Crowe movie, Aloha. As a half-Chinese, half-Irish woman who grew up in Hawaii, possibly the only one my non-Hawaii friends know personally, I have been hit several times this week with links to articles decrying the whitewashing of the Hawaii-made Hollywood film. Most notably upsetting to these observers was the choice of Emma Stone in the lead role of a Chinese-Hawaiian-Swedish woman with the surname Ng. (If you don’t know it, Ng, in this case, is a Chinese name.)

Now, before I continue, I want to make clear a couple of things. The first is that I have not yet seen this film; I’ve only seen the trailer. The second is that I work in the film industry and have some pretty strong ideas about ways in which Hollywood could diversify roles, culturally, as well as when it comes to roles for women. I understand that Hollywood is a money-making machine run by fearful, aging, white men and the product reflects this. (I’m looking at you Expendables 4.) I’m not here to stick up for the choices of the producers of the film.

But what I want to say is this: The complainers have got it wrong, and there’s a whiff of reverse racism in their outrage.

Casting a bunch of white people in a film set in Hawaii is not inherently wrong or racist. It might be a wasted opportunity to give actors of different backgrounds a chance, but it’s not fundamentally wrongheaded.

As far as I can tell, this film is about military people in Hawaii, and not really about ordinary Hawaiians. I can confirm for you that there are plenty of white military people in Hawaii. There are also plenty of latinos, African-Americans and Asians in the military, but if you see a big strapping white guy with his shirt tucked in, speaking with a mid-Western accent in a bar in Hawaii, there’s a good chance he’s military. We’ll add to this point that the military folks do often tend to stick together. They don’t always have family ties to Hawaii, they work and live together, and they are often in Hawaii for a definite time, so I’d guess they might be less invested in laying down roots in the islands. A film featuring a bunch of white military guys hanging out with each other in Hawaii is not that unrealistic.

Now, to the scandalous decision of casting the Emma Stone as a Chinese-Hawaiian Swede with the surname Ng. OK, I’ll confess that I initially wanted to get on board with the complainers and get indignant about giving the role of part-Chinese woman to a blond, green-eyed actress. But the truth is, in Hawaii, where genetic mixing rivals that of Brazil, it’s entirely possible to get a blond Chinese-Hawaiian Swede.

Here’s a photo of one. (Yes, she is Chinese-Hawaiian-Swedish.) She’s a friend from high school, and she never lost that naturally bleach blond hair. The man in the photo is her father. Yes, that man had a role in producing that blue-eyed baby! That’s Hawaiian genetics!

Here’s another photo of a school friend. She’s part-Hawaiian. And she kind of looks like Emma Stone!

And here’s yet another photo of a more famous mix, Alex Chung. See the Chinese surname? She got that from her half-Chinese dad.

So let me ask the complainers this: Is it not just as racist to demand an actor or actress to have a certain background just because it fits the idea of WHAT YOU THINK a combination of races should look like? Would you have felt better to have seen someone in the role who is 100 percent Asian? Or Latina? (Close enough, right? She’d be brown at least.) Or should the role have been limited to actresses actually of Chinese-Hawaiian-Swedish descent (and that would maybe leave only my blond friend, not an actress, and…?)

The truth is, Hawaii IS really mixed, and while MOST people of mixed races are not blond and blue-eyed, MANY ARE. And would it be fair to deny them their background and ties to Hawaii, just because they need to use more sunscreen? Of course not.

What is far more worrying about Stone in the role is her utter failure to assume a natural Hawaiian-English speech pattern (a complaint that could be made of pretty much EVERY film made in Hawaii), and the fact that I hear Aloha is a real stinker. But it’s probably a stinker because it’s a stinker, and not because everyone’s white.

Following people’s lines of sight is something I do habitually, so I’m going to illustrate something that happened half a dozen times last season. I’ve made no statistical analysis on it, but it felt like this kind of thing has also been happening with increasing frequency compared to the past three seasons. It’s a pattern.

People we don’t see Dean Winchester checking out as he enters the bar.

The only person we see him check out as he enters. The look is not a brief glance, because his eyes stay glued on the fellow even as he turns to follow Sam and Castiel to the bar. It’s pretty obvious, is what it is.

Also totally ignored by him: painting of a half naked Hawaiian woman, a full-blooded American woman, and two waitresses in bright Hawaiian colours.

Notice that the man’s back is toward the exit, making him the least dangerous person in the entire establishment. Dean is not checking him out because he’s a threat. Were he casing the joint, this guy would be next to the last person his eyes would fall on.

In the two crowd scenes in the episode we only see him look at two people, and those dudes look alike.

And because someone will inevitably bring up Halt & Catch Fire, I’m going to ask you to compare Dean’s performative observation of college age women, and the subtler genuine interest he showed toward two characters closer to his own age in the episode that was not meant for his brother’s eyes. If you can tell the difference, full marks for you on Dean “subverting the trope” Winchester.

Now, if this thing had happened once and in isolation, it would be one thing. But this is a pattern of behaviour during a season that brought the subtext closer to the surface than ever before.

Isabella Aiona Abbott ~ Native Hawaiian

Isabella Aiona Abbott (June 20, 1919 – October 28, 2010) was an educator and ethnobotanist from Hawaii. The first native Hawaiian woman to receive a PhD in science, she became the leading expert on Pacific algae.
Early life Abbott was born Isabella Kauakea Yau Yung Aiona in Hana, Maui, Territory of Hawaii, on June 20, 1919. Her Hawaiian name means “white rain of Hana” and was known as “Izzy”. Her father was ethnically Chinese while her mother’s ancestry was predominantly Native Hawaiian. Her mother taught her about edible Hawaiian seaweeds.