Boris Johnson x reader

The camera adds 10 pounds they say, nah Boris is naturally thicc

You sat in a meeting room, awaiting the arrival of labour's current mp, Jeremy Corbyn, day dreaming about nothing in particular while tapping your pen against the table. Everyone else in the room seemed perfectly calm, having already met the man while your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst. Did no one else feel the stress that this election brought you? You needed to win and stop awful Boris Johnson from getting into office.
An abrupt start to the meeting shocked you, Corbyn had arrived as it appeared and everyone else had stood up to greet him and shake his hand. Immediately you followed suit upon the realisation. Polite smiles and small talk seemed to lace the room with awkwardness.
"Righto, shall we proceed with the meeting?"a man at the head of the table asked looking deliberately at the most powerful man in the room, Jezza. Said man nodded in response, a kind smile on his lips, before turning to face back to the projected image on the screen.
There stood, in all his glory, Boris Johnson, leader of the opposition. He was at a podium, saying words you were unable to hear over the chatter in the room.
"We've discovered information that implies Boris will be selling the NHS, I've called this meeting to discuss our next step," a woman across from you explained. Your eyes never left Boris' thicc body, eying him from head to toe while everyone conversed. Crossing your legs, aroused by the delicious sight the screen offered, you tore your eyes away, fearing for your job if anyone found out. Had he always looked this hot? You thought to yourself, having seen him before but never having had these thoughts over him. His silky, pale hair looked ruffled and unruly, making you want to run your fingers through it and grip it hard during- moving on. His eyes drooped slightly, a sign of his age along with the creases that lined his forehead and mouth. God he was so sophisticated and mature. His mouth wore a lop sided grin, showing off his not-so-pearly whites, or rather yellows, stained from the tea. The large, sloping shoulders that made your eyes trail further down, leading them to the "get brexit done" sign. His policies brought you back again, away from the edge of falling for the man. Cut you and you'd bleed labour red, tories had no place in your heart.