#chris beck

[bodeckerhedron]

SEBASTIAN STAN as CHRIS BECK

➤• THE MARTIAN (2015) DIR. RIDLEY SCOTT

[solhunder]

based on that one scene between beck and johanssen in The Martian (2015) :3

(click image for higher res)

[stardustrider]

Sebastian Stan as Chris Beck THE MARTIAN (2015)

[sebstansource]

Sebastian Stan as Chris Beck THE MARTIAN (2015)

[sheriff-bodecker]

bring this babygirl with five minutes of screentime back😪

[navybrat817]

Every Time

Pairing: Chris Beck x Female Reader

Summary: Chris forgot the condoms... again.

Word Count: 300

Warnings: Established relationship, making out, implied sex (wrap it before you tap it... or not in this case), dirty talk, implied breeding kink, pet name (star), Chris Beck (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Day 11 of the January Jumble Scribbles Challenge. Prompt: You let me do this every time. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications as I no longer do taglists. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure how long you were making out with Chris for. One second you were watching a sci-fi movie, in which he muttered about all the things wrong with the spaceship, and the next you were underneath him. The kisses were soft and sweet at first and slowly grew in hunger, like he was the only thing that could give you air. 

Your hand moved through his soft hair when you felt his hard cock through his pants. “Chris,” you gasped, tugging on the stands.

He groaned, a deep and sexy sound. “My beautiful star,” he rasped, his hips grinding against yours. 

“Condom?” you asked breathlessly, your core aching. The friction felt good, but you wanted him inside you. 

He slipped a hand under your shirt. “No condom,” he replied, making you gasp again when he pinched your nipple. “Forgot to get them.”

You caught the small smile on his face. He was one of the most brilliant men you knew. He had to be smart to go into space. But he seemed to forget about protection every time he went shopping recently, even when you added it to his list.

“Doesn’t it feel good when I fuck you bare?” he asked, moving his mouth to your neck. “Don’t you love it when I come inside you?”

You quivered. It felt like heaven every single time, your wet walls gripping him like you never wanted to let him go. And you swore the last time he fucked you that he mentioned breeding you and seeing you round with his baby. You came so hard you passed out and woke up to him still inside you.

“Okay,” you sighed. “You can fuck me bare.”

He smiled against your neck. “You let me do this every time.”

Yes.

Yes, you did.

The man has a breeding kink. No one can convince me otherwise. Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ JJS Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[whereareyourightnow]

THE MARTIAN (2015) dir. Ridley Scott

[daystarpoet]

code of conduct ⚝ chris beck

Masterlist — do not reupload, translate or feed my work into AI. Taglist.

Pairings: husband!Chris Beck x wife!reader

Warnings: fluff. Possible grammar and spelling mistakes. Kissing and mentions of intimacy. Making out in the lab.

Synopsis: It's been a little too long since Chris Beck has had time alone with his wife, and he's going to make it everyone's problem.

A/N: I recently rewatched 'The Martian' purely because of Sebastian. I love that little space nerd so much, and I wish we had more Chris Beck fics on this app.

The lab was quiet. The crew knew better than bothering you when you're knee-deep into science mode. For the past forty minutes, your field of vision had been nothing but an amplified red spec of some Martian-dirt component that you were yet to identify.

You were biting your lip and cracking your fingers. Next to you was a sketchbook, where you had tried to draw what you were seeing. It was rough, but it was enough.

The doors opened and in came the one person who did not give a single shit about your 'don't bother me while I research' rule. Chris Beck. Your husband.

You knew he was there before he even said a word. He grabbed your notebook and lifted it to inspect it. "Nice drawings. I see we're taking up abstraction."

"Don't mock me," you deadpanned.

"Me? I'm not mocking you, sweetheart. You've got a real knack for this. Who needs all this space stuff? You could've been an artist instead."

You scoff, and he stares at you. His forearms are resting on the table, and you can tell he's up to no good from the sheer mischief that he's radiating.

Truth be told, this spaced marriage was not easy. All you were allowed to do was share small pecks here and there—much to Chris' disappointment, who looked at you with his kicked puppy face any time you rejected his advances.

Damn your professionalism.

"How are you?" When he asked that, he thought he would sound earnest. He was genuinely concerned about your well-being. He had known you since college and knew exactly how prone to overexerting yourself you actually were.

"I think we might need to take the samples again in a lower concentration—1:1,000, maybe," you said, not looking away from the microscope. "It's impossible to get a good count like this."

"That's not what I meant." Says Chris, sliding closer to you and resting a hand on your waist.

"Then I don't know what you meant."

"I brought you water."

You hummed in response.

Chris's hand moved; from simply being settled against you, it slid all the way across your stomach to fully wrap itself around you and pull you into him. You yelped but made no move to complain.

"That's better, no?" He grinned and leant in to press a kiss to your neck.

"Chris—"

"I know, I know," he pressed another one to your pulse point. You had to hold back a small shiver. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing and had no shame in taking advantage of it.

Your eyes fluttered shut against your better judgement. You tilted your head, allowing him to keep his onslaught of kisses. Chris lifted his head and kissed your mouth instead. Your hands moved to hold onto his shoulders.

As if it were even possible, Chris pulled you closer. He breathed you in as he kissed you, starved to show you everything he'd been bottling up for the past three months. It would kill him, he was sure.

He bit your lip, and when you made a sound, your husband got even bolder. In one step, he backed you up against the lab's counter with one knee between your legs. That was when you pulled away.

Chris was dumbfounded. Both of his hands still held onto your waist, and his eyes tried to read the creases in your expressions to find an answer to the sudden rejection.

"We can't do this, you know that. We signed a code of conduct." You sighed, tilting your head as you absorbed his clear disappointment.

"The contract never explicitly said anything against lab...intercourse. For science, y'know..."

You slapped him on the chest, not nearly hard enough to cause him any pain. "We are not having sex inside the lab!"

"Fine, fine!" He laughed, scrunching his eyes and nose, and shaking his head in that way he always did. "I just miss you."

"I'm right here, baby." You placed your palm flat over his chest, tracing up and down over the NASA logo on his white shirt.

"You know what I mean. I miss arguing over what show we should watch at night, and I miss having dinner at that Indian restaurant on Fridays." His head tilted lower, almost hiding with a bit of shame.

You brushed your nose against his before resting your forehead against Chris'. "We do other stuff now. We argue over who got the culture media contaminated and eat dehydrated food. I'd argue it's perfectly romantic."

He kissed your forehead. "You're right. Still, can I at least treat you to some coffee instead?"

"My, my. Is that a date?"

"You bet."