The late afternoon sun beats down, casting golden light over the backyard. Ice clinks against the sides of your lemonade glass as you lounge on a chair, watching your boyfrienfd stretch his arms over his head, his muscles shifting as he leans back in his own chair shirtless, soaking up the summer sun. Toji is built like a damn machine—broad shoulders, thick arms, veins winding down his forearms like a roadmap to destruction.

And that’s exactly what you want. Destruction. Specifically, of the watermelon sitting on the table.

“Toji,” you call, tilting your head as he glances over at you, wiping sweat from his brow. “Think you can crack that watermelon open with your biceps?”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then, he blinks at you, slow and incredulous, before a smirk curls at the edge of his lips.

“You serious?” he asks, one brow arched.

You shrug, sipping your lemonade. “I mean… you are all big and strong, right?” You drag the words out, knowing damn well how much Toji loves being tested. “Unless you can’t do it—”

The chair legs scrape against the deck as he stands, rolling his shoulders like a predator preparing to pounce. “Tch. You think I can’t break a damn watermelon?” He strides over, snatching up the ripe fruit in one hand, testing its weight.

“I dunno,” you hum, eyeing his biceps. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Toji smirk widens. “Alright, sweetheart. Watch closely.”

He brings the watermelon up, tucking it against the solid muscle of his arm. His free hand grips his wrist, and then—

A flex.

A crack.

Juice spurts as the watermelon gives under the sheer force of his bicep, splitting down the middle with a wet, satisfying snap. Bright red flesh and sticky-sweet liquid burst outward, dribbling down his arm, over his bare chest, rolling down the planes of his chest, dribbling over his abs.

Toji chuckles, licking a stray drop of juice from his thumb before throwing you a lazy grin. “That good enough for ya?” Toji mutters.