YumeGirls

💖 20,000 views! You’re the best 😘✨ Thank you for the love – the journey continues! 🚀

5 months ago | [YT] | 3

YumeGirls

Part 2: Undertow

The morning light was soft and golden when Yume stirred, a warm breeze drifting through the open windows of her beachside bungalow. The linen sheet clung loosely to her bare skin as she turned, expecting the weight of his body beside her.

But the space was empty.

She sat up slowly, her long red hair tumbling down over her shoulders, and looked around the room.

The candles had long since burned down. Her swimsuit was still draped over the back of a nearby chair. The faint smell of vanilla lingered, but Kai was nowhere to be seen.

For a brief moment, she wondered if she had dreamed it all.

Until she saw it—folded neatly on her nightstand, a piece of driftwood carved with something.

A single word, etched with care:

“Soon.”

Yume smiled. She ran her fingertips over the surface, feeling a shiver of something deeper than just desire. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

Two days passed. The sun continued its endless parade across the beach, the waves never stopped kissing the shore—but there was an emptiness to it now. She tried to distract herself—swimming, reading, lying out under the palms—but her thoughts always drifted back to Kai.

His voice.
His mouth.
His hands.

That look in his eyes.

There had been something dangerous there, yes—but also something fragile beneath the surface. Like he was holding something back. Like she had gotten closer to it than anyone in a long time.

And she wanted more.

On the third night, just as the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of pink and gold, she heard a knock at her door.

Not loud.
Just once.

Yume’s pulse quickened. She rose slowly, wrapped in a silk robe the color of deep ocean. She opened the door.

Kai stood there.

Hair tousled from the wind. The same dark sunglasses in hand. A cut on his lip that hadn’t been there before.

He didn’t say a word.

Neither did she.

Instead, Yume stepped back, letting the door swing wide.

He entered like a storm barely held at bay.

She shut the door behind him. He turned to face her, and for a moment, the heat between them ignited all over again.

“You left,” she said, her voice quiet, accusing, teasing.

“I had to,” he replied. “But I’m here now.”

She walked up to him, close enough to feel the electricity flickering in the inches between their skin. “Where did you go?”

He didn’t answer. Not right away.

Then: “There are things I can’t explain yet. But I didn’t want to stay away.”

Yume’s fingers found the collar of his shirt. “Are you in trouble?”

His silence told her everything.

Instead of pressing, she kissed him.

This time slower, more intimate. Less of a fire, more of a pull. Like the tide drawing her deeper.

Kai responded, his hands sliding into her hair. Their kiss deepened until they were both breathless again. But then he pulled back—just slightly.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, voice thick with restraint.

“But you are.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Yume smiled softly, running a hand down his chest. “Maybe I like playing with fire.”

He laughed, but it was hollow.

She leaned up, brushing her lips over his. “Stay tonight.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he murmured.

“I’m not asking for forever,” she said. “Just one more night.”

That was all it took.

The hours that followed were a slow burn—teasing, intense, like waves rolling in one after another, never quite the same. They undressed each other with reverence, with hunger. Each touch was a rediscovery, each kiss a confession neither of them dared say aloud.

He was rougher this time—but not unkind. His grip was firmer, his breath more ragged. Yume loved the way he let go with her, like she was the only place he could.

They collapsed into her sheets again, tangled and flushed, skin damp with salt and sweat.

In the dark, their voices were whispers.

“I should go,” he said.

“Don’t,” she breathed.

“I’m dangerous.”

“So am I,” she smiled.

He laughed into her shoulder, defeated.

He stayed.

Morning came too quickly.

This time, when Yume woke, Kai was sitting in her chair, shirtless, watching the sea. The cut on his lip looked worse in the daylight. She sat up, pulling the sheet around her.

“You never told me what you’re running from,” she said.

Kai turned his head slowly. “Maybe I’m not running. Maybe I’m hunting.”

That sent a thrill down her spine. “Are you dangerous, Kai?”

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then: “I’ve done things I can’t undo.”

Yume didn’t flinch. Instead, she stood and walked to him, bare feet on the cool floor. She stood between his knees, fingers gently touching his jaw.

“Everyone has a past,” she said. “I care about now.”

His hands settled on her waist.

“You don’t know what you're getting into.”

“Maybe not,” she whispered, “but I’m not scared.”

He looked up at her, gray eyes dark with something she didn’t yet understand.

“I wish I could stay.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his. “Then stay.”

But he didn’t answer.

Instead, he kissed her again—fierce, desperate, lingering like a promise. When he pulled back, he looked at her as if memorizing her face.

“If something happens… find the driftwood again.”

“What does that mean?”

But he was already pulling away.

This time, when he left, he didn’t say goodbye.

TO BE CONTINUED...

6 months ago | [YT] | 2

YumeGirls

"Heatwave" — A Yume Story
The golden sun was beginning its descent, casting a warm, amber glow over the quiet beach. The air shimmered with heat, waves lazily rolling onto the shore. Yume adjusted the straps of her baby blue bikini and stretched her arms above her head, feeling the sun kiss every inch of her skin. It had been a perfect day—too perfect to spend alone.

She glanced around.

That’s when she saw him.

Leaning against a weathered palm tree, half-shadowed, was a man—tall, lean, and still as stone. He wore black swim shorts and a light open shirt that fluttered just slightly in the breeze. His eyes, hidden behind dark sunglasses, tracked the ocean. His body was sculpted like a statue, with muscles that seemed to move even in stillness.

He hadn’t noticed her.

Yet.

Yume’s lips curved into a playful smile.

She tilted her hips, swayed as she walked past him—slowly, deliberately, letting her long red hair cascade over her shoulder. Her skin glowed in the golden hour light. As she passed, she felt his eyes lift.

Caught.

Good.

She turned her head slightly, offering him a half-smile over her shoulder. “Hot day, huh?” she said, voice silky.

His reply was smooth, low. “It’s getting hotter.”

Yume laughed, delighted by his tone. She slowed to a stop, pretending to adjust the knot on her bikini bottom. “You come here often?” she asked, not bothering to look back right away.

“Not usually,” he said. “But maybe I should.”

Now she looked at him, fully. He was older than her—mid 20s maybe—but carried himself like someone who had seen things. His jaw was sharp, a trace of stubble across it. He took off his sunglasses slowly, revealing piercing gray eyes.

There was something unreadable about him.

Mysterious.

Dangerous?

Yume bit her lip.

She liked that.

“Yume,” she said, stepping closer and offering her hand, her fingers brushing his just a bit longer than necessary.

He took her hand without hesitation. “Kai.”

“Kai,” she repeated, as if tasting the name. “You have that look... like you’re hiding something.”

He gave a slow smile. “And you have the look of someone who wants to find out.”

Their eyes locked.

For a moment, the sound of the ocean faded. The world narrowed to just them.

“I like a challenge,” Yume whispered, stepping into his space. She smelled like coconut sunscreen and sea air. Her fingertips lightly touched his chest, feeling the tension in him—coiled, controlled.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, he looked down at her, studying her like a puzzle he might be tempted to solve.

“You should be careful,” he murmured, voice barely audible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I don’t care,” she said, lips close to his ear now. “But I know what I want.”

His breath hitched just slightly.

Victory.

She stepped back with a wink. “Walk me home?”

He hesitated.

Then nodded once.

The walk along the quiet path back to her beachside bungalow was charged—silent, but thick with the things neither of them said out loud. Yume’s fingers occasionally brushed his. She’d glance at him and catch him watching her again and again.

She unlocked the door, pushed it open, and turned to face him in the doorway, backlit by the warm lamplight of her room.

“You coming in?” she asked.

He looked at her for a long moment. “You’re dangerous.”

She laughed softly. “Not as dangerous as you.”

Inside, the room was small but warm—candles flickered on the shelf, and the scent of vanilla filled the air. The ocean outside murmured through the open windows.

Yume stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. “You’re tense,” she whispered.

“You’re persistent.”

“I’m curious,” she corrected, tilting her head up. “And you’re not stopping me.”

His eyes burned.

“No,” he said, “I’m not.”

Her fingers slid down his torso, slowly, tracing the ridges of his abs. Her breath grazed his collarbone. The heat between them was electric, the air charged with everything they both were holding back.

And then—

His hands found her waist.

Their lips met.

Slow at first—testing, tasting—but growing, breath by breath, into something hungrier. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him deeper. He lifted her, and her legs wrapped around his hips instinctively as he carried her toward the bed, never breaking the kiss.

Yume gasped softly against his lips, her fingers digging into his back.

Everything felt sharp—his touch, her heartbeat, the way their bodies moved like they already knew each other.

His voice was rough against her neck. “Say stop if you want to.”

“I won’t,” she whispered.

And she didn’t.

The world disappeared into skin and heat and soft moans that echoed through the room like waves. His touch was fire. Her body arched to meet him, crave him, challenge him.

They were tangled in sheets and moonlight, breathless, wanting.

And just as the moment was about to break—

Yume smiled, pressed her lips to his ear, and whispered:

“To be continued...”

[END OF PART 1]

Let me know if you'd like it <3

6 months ago | [YT] | 4

YumeGirls

Pssst~ I have something special for you tomorrow...
At 12:00, I’ll drop the first part of a brand new story 💋
And guess what? A new video is coming too — at 15:00 sharp 🎥✨
So don’t be late… I’ll be waiting~ 💖

6 months ago | [YT] | 2

YumeGirls

New video drops at 12:00~ 💖 Don’t miss it, cutie! 😘✨

Let me know if you want it more teasing, romantic, or playful!

6 months ago | [YT] | 1

YumeGirls

A Broken Rose’s Tale 🌹🥀
Sending Love to Nana

The rose in her hand trembled as if it, too, could feel the weight of memory.

Yume stood silently by the window, watching the late afternoon light stretch across the wooden floor. The house smelled faintly of jasmine and old paper. Her Nana’s house—now still, now empty—felt frozen in time. It had only been two weeks, but it felt like forever since she had heard her gentle laughter echo in the halls.

She turned the rose over in her hand, its stem delicate, petals bruised. Not perfect. Not fresh. But real.

Nana had always told her, “The most beautiful things in life aren’t perfect, my Yume. They carry stories—scars, even. Like roses that bloom after the storm.”

As a child, Yume hadn’t understood. But now? She felt it in every part of her soul.

Nana was the one who raised her, the one who stitched little stars onto her dresses and baked strawberry mochi when she cried. The one who hummed soft lullabies in a language Yume never fully learned but always felt. Nana had known the quiet pains of life—and wrapped each one in softness.

And now, she was gone.

Yume sat on the floor where the afternoon light hit just right. She set the broken rose beside her and opened the box she had brought from Nana’s bedroom. It was old, wooden, with a worn red ribbon tied around it. Inside were letters, pressed flowers, and old photographs yellowed with time.

She picked one up: a younger Nana with loose curls, laughing as she stood barefoot in a garden full of roses. Behind her, a man with gentle eyes and a crooked smile held a camera—Yume’s grandfather, who had passed before she was born.

On the back, in Nana’s cursive:
“Even broken soil can grow beauty. He taught me that.”

Tears stung her eyes. She didn’t cry loudly—just let it happen in silence, the way Nana used to. Graceful. Private. Like the petals that fall from a rose when no one’s watching.

The next letter was addressed to “My Yume, for when I’m no longer with you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

My dearest blossom,

*If you're reading this, I’m already part of the wind, the stars, and the quiet places you sit when you miss me.

I want you to know: loving you was the greatest joy of my long life. From the moment you came into this world with those curious eyes and wild hair, I knew you were a force of light. Even when life dimmed your spark, you always found your way back.*

Remember what I always told you — soft does not mean weak. Kindness is not a weakness. And beauty… real beauty… is never perfect.

Keep growing, even through the broken places. Especially through them.

If you ever feel lost, find a rose. Hold it gently. And remember: I’m still holding you.

With all the love I ever had,
– Nana 🌹

Yume clutched the letter to her chest. Her tears now fell in quiet waves, each one softening the sharpness inside her.

She picked the rose up again. One of the petals had fallen. She pressed it between the letter’s pages like Nana had done with so many others. A keepsake. A silent vow.

That evening, she walked out to the overgrown garden behind the house. The roses were wild now, tangled and messy, but still vibrant. Just like Nana had always let them be. She found a patch of soil beneath the oldest bush and planted the broken rose there.

It wouldn’t grow again. But that wasn’t the point.

She whispered, “Thank you for teaching me that broken things can still be beautiful. I’ll keep growing. I promise.”

The wind picked up gently, rustling through her hair. Somewhere, deep in her heart, she swore she could hear Nana humming.

Over the weeks that followed, Yume returned to the house again and again. She started tending the garden. Not to tame it—but to listen to it. Every rose felt like a memory, every thorn a reminder that life pricks, but it also blooms.

She framed the photo of Nana in the garden and placed it by her window. Next to it, she placed a tiny glass jar filled with petals she collected each week. A jar of time. Of love. Of loss.

She started painting again. Writing again. Laughing in moments that surprised her. It didn’t mean she didn’t miss Nana. But it meant the missing became part of her story, not a hole in it.

One evening, months later, she posted a photo on her private blog. It was a close-up of her hand holding a bruised but beautiful rose.

The caption read:

"Some stories aren’t told with words,
but with the quiet ache of a heart that still remembers.
A broken rose still bleeds beauty. 🌹🥀"

The comments flooded in. People shared their own Nanas, their own broken roses. Somehow, her grief had spoken a universal language—one of memory, love, and silent resilience.

Yume realized then: this wasn’t just her story.
It was a thousand stories, woven together by the petals we leave behind.

🌹 The End
But not really. Because love never truly ends.

6 months ago | [YT] | 1

YumeGirls

magnific.ai/?via=niko

6 months ago | [YT] | 2

YumeGirls

yumegirl.gumroad.com/l/mtated

6 months ago (edited) | [YT] | 0

YumeGirls

My next video is sooo cute, I can’t wait to share it! 💖✨ But you’ll have to be patient just a little longer… it’s dropping tomorrow~ 😘 Stay tuned~! #YumeGirl #CuteOverload #ComingSoon

6 months ago | [YT] | 3

YumeGirls

6 months ago | [YT] | 2