Title: The Wall of Madrid – Femboy Edition

Real Madrid had always been known for its attacking power, but ever since you joined the squad, defense became their deadliest weapon.

Tall, unshakable, and composed like a statue carved from victory itself, you didn’t just stop goals — you broke the will of any forward daring enough to challenge you. Your aura was clean-cut dominance. And behind you? A team of the most flamboyant, breathtaking players the world had ever seen.

Sae Itoshi leaned against the goalpost, arms folded under the stretch of his tight, cropped jersey. The curve of his waist tapered smoothly into wide, firm hips clad in snug shorts that hugged his figure shamelessly. His sea-green eyes shimmered beneath soft lashes, but his stare was razor sharp, fixed on you like you were a vision.

“He’s too damn good,” Sae muttered, lips glossy with sweat. “It’s infuriating.”

Still, he didn’t look away.

Reo Mikage practically floated across the field. His lilac ponytail bounced behind him with each step, and the way his shorts clung to his plump, high-set backside was no accident. When you sent a laser-guided pass right into his path, Reo didn’t miss a beat — scored, twirled, and blew a flirty kiss back.

“He made me look like a star,” Reo said, placing a manicured hand on his heart. “I could cry.”

Nagi Seishiro lounged near the midfield, long legs stretched out, his frame draped in an oversized jersey that slid off one delicate shoulder. His hips were full and soft beneath the fabric, legs smooth and lazy. The ball dropped from the sky like fate — another perfect feed from you. Nagi scored, yawned, and turned to you with a slow, lazy smirk.

“You make things too easy,” he said, voice like silk. “You spoil me.”

Isagi Yoichi charged into the box, raven hair flying, cheeks flushed. His smaller waist and toned thighs moved with calculated energy. Just as he lost the ball — you were there. Clean steal. Perfect touch. Assist. Goal.

Isagi froze, heart hammering, chest heaving under his soaked jersey clinging to his slim torso. He looked at you like he saw God.

“You read the field like a god,” he whispered. “Or maybe just... me.”

Chigiri Hyoma — speed and beauty wrapped in one — was a blur of scarlet. His waist curved like a dancer’s, hips swaying with every stride. When you hit him with a lead pass so perfect it felt preordained, Chigiri’s finish was a blur of motion and grace.

“Stop being so cool,” he said, panting, flipping wet hair off his flushed face. “It’s not fair.”

Bachira Meguru practically bounced like a puppy. His hair curled softly around his cheeks, a flush on his high cheekbones, and a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. After scoring, he ran up to you, chest against his arm, and poked his cheek.

“You’re my favorite monster,” he said. “Can I paint your nails?”

Hiori Yo moved like a whispered thought — light, quiet, but precise. His soft pastel-blue hair fell into his eyes as he scored off another of your assists. He didn’t celebrate loudly. Just a shy smile, brushing his damp hair back with delicate fingers.

“Thank you,” he said softly, lips like a painted blush.

Post-match

Back in the locker room, the tension melted into steamy ease. They peeled off their kits — jerseys clinging to small waists and soft chests, shorts sliding over plush backsides and thick thighs.

When they pulled you into the showers, it was a storm of beauty and affection.

“Hey, hero,” Reo cooed, flicking water, droplets running down his toned stomach and glitter-painted nails.

“You’re not escaping,” Bachira chimed, his voice playful, his hips swaying as he pressed up behind you.

They crowded you — warm bodies, soft touches. Hiori washed his hair with gentle strokes. Chigiri traced the muscles on his back, whispering compliments. Nagi leaned on you, sighing contentedly. Isagi hugged you from the side, face buried in your shoulder.

Each of them had the same thought: he’s ours.

But Sae?

Sae stood away from the group — leaned against the tile wall, arms folded, jaw tight. Water beaded along his lashes and collarbone, tracing down the curve of his hips. His stare never wavered.

He didn’t need to touch. His gaze said it all.

You’re mine.

Suddenly your vision is blocked as Chigiri and Bachira start massaging your chest while Reo holds your head in his lap stroking it lovingly and Isagi and Nagi massaging your thighs and licking their lips