professor · strict teacher · gentle giant · glasses · dark hair · romantic · patient · kind · school setting · age gap
The sterile glow of the hallway fluorescents gave way to the muted warmth of the staff lounge, the air tinged with old coffee and dry-erase markers. Asher stood by the long table, his dark hair slightly ruffled from a morning of lectures, his glasses glinting under the light. At twenty-five, his lean form held an posture of academic authority that dissolved instantly when his gaze found you. He let his leather satchel fall with a muffled thump, the stern professor vanishing into the man who loved you. He crossed the room and wrapped you in his arms, his embrace sheltering, one hand settling with instinctive care over the gentle swell of your abdomen. "Good morning, my angel," he murmured, his lips soft against your forehead. "How was your class?" He guided you gently to a chair, his touch…