#austen gentleman

[lily-s-world]

Thanks to @hotjaneaustenmenpoll I decided to watch Persuasion (1995) for the millionth time this weekend, and inspired me to create some propaganda on why you should vote for Captain Wentworth as the Hottest Austen Man:

Anne's face the moment she saw him after eight years screams "Oh, no, he is hot!" and she is right.

He makes one snarky comment towards Anne and immediately shows a regretted puppy face, because he realized he can't hurt her in any way. Gentleman as it finest.

Life of the party charms the pants off anyone. Not literally, except for Anne.

Mister "I don't care about Anne", but will gladly listen to anything other people has to say about her and won't stand seeing her struggle in anyway. Pure gentleman behavior.

Also, will give deadly stares to the men that approach Anne in a romantic manner.

Ciaran Hinds in a Marine Uniform. Even Lady Dalrymple said he looked fine as hell in that uniform.

The letter with that voice, perfection.

The yearning and longing on his eyes is worthy of an Oscar, this man embodies that character perfectly.

I know you love Darcy, I do too, but that is the obvious choice; Wentworth is as good as he is (if not even more).

[thepastisalreadywritten]

💚🐸💚

[dabiconcordia]

“He is a gentleman, and I am a gentleman's daughter. So far we are equal.” ― Jane Austen

[foolishlyzephyrus]

2005’s pride and prejudice this, 1995’s pride and prejudice that. where’s the love for ang lee’s 1995 adaptation of sense and sensibility?

[lulu-cat-princess]

If YouTube exists in the early 1800s, I will pay big money to see:

Jane Austen

Lord Byron

Dr James Barry

John Keats

William Wordsworth

Percy Bysshe Shelly

The Brothers Grimm

Anne Lister aka Gentleman Jack

Eliza Hamilton

React to Thomas’ poems. Also I like to see these fictional people who would be alive at the same time as Thomas react to his poems:

Dr Henry Morgan from abc forever

Horatio Hornblower

Richard Sharpe

The bridgerton and featherington families

[bethanydelleman]

The Obstinate Elizabeth and Bossy Darcy Cycle

This is something I notice a lot in JAFF and it’s so strange to me. Mostly because it involves Elizabeth being “obstinate” to the point of stupidity and Darcy being “bossy” which I can’t even tell if it’s good or bad because Elizabeth is being so stupid.

So here is an example from an extremely popular published JAFF: Elizabeth falls into a frozen river. She gets mad at Darcy for saving her (I’m a strong, independent woman!) and then Darcy offers her a ride home. Elizabeth, soaked to the skin, is like, “Nah I’m an excellent walker, my house is only a mile away.” And then Bossy Darcy says something using an animalistic descriptor and basically forces her into the carriage.

Okay, so 1. Elizabeth would have died. That isn’t stubborn, that’s stupid. I don’t care how “good of a walker” you are, I live in Canada and this is nonsense. Do you like having feet, Elizabeth?

2. I don’t know if it counts as “bossy” if you keep someone from dying/killing themselves with stupidity. I’m pretty sure a non-bossy character like say, Bingley, would have done the exact same thing. (Not that we ever see Darcy be “bossy” at all much less to a lady)

So in my mind you haven’t shown their characters, you’ve made Elizabeth into a manic-pixie-dreamgirl who was fortunate to make it past childhood and Darcy is just a normal dude who doesn’t want a girl to die.

book!Elizabeth would have accepted Darcy’s help without question, because she isn’t an idiot. In the event that the hypothermia is making her delirious and she somehow refused, I think book!Darcy would be very polite in his entities that she get into the carriage to keep from dying. He might have just resorted to walking with her until she collapsed/accepted his help. 

Also, The Gentleman Known As Darcy does not make any speech which can be described using animal sound descriptors (bark, growl, howl) because he has impeccable manners and modulating your voice was like, the whole idea. In my personal opinion, when he is angry his voice would be the most even. That’s the scariest angry anyway; anger with control.

Now, please disregard everything I just said because... this cycle is incredibly popular in JAFF and people clearly like it. 

[ehlnofay]

sorry but apropos of nothing I am pondering pride and prejudice once again (regular occurence). saw someone describe elizabeth bennet as "middle class". if the internet inexplicably vanishes in the next few hours it's because I blew it up

[beautifulscreaminglady]

I think I appreciate Jane Austen more as a woman in my 20s than I did as a teenager.

[tadpal]

but also the country gentleman look the buckskin short pantaloon the boots the cravat im. i love men

[thenotcanadian]

Also OP (not to add on) Mr Knightley is more than just a friend who will call you out, he is literally a consummate gentleman. And he takes that role very seriously! He's an incredibly privileged man, among the wealthiest in their area/society, and he looks after his tenants (see Robert Martin) and those who have fallen into a lower status (Miss Bates).

He doesn't like Frank Churchill because everyone bends over backwards for him and frankly (no pun intended), Frank Churchill does not take his role as a gentleman seriously. He calls Emma out when she's not behaving as befits a woman from her station because he expects better from her.

Anyway I'm just having a lot of feelings about Mr Knightley.

I feel like when people talk about Knightley in the canon of Austen heroes it’s always “he’s the friend who will call you out” and he IS but he’s also has soooo much like, social grace?? not in the shallow way of “manner” that Austen is always undermining, but in a deeper way that has real compassion at its root! he puts people at ease!! he takes care of them!! he thinks about what people’s needs are and then he finds a solution, without being asked! put him in a group situation and he won’t be witty and charming and make everyone laugh, but he WILL find the person suffering and quietly make their troubles go away

[austenreusedcostumes]

This Striped waistcoat is worn on an extra at a ball in Sanditon Season 1 Episode 6 (2019) and later worn on Rupert Vansittart as Charles Lawton in Gentleman Jack: I'm Not the Other Woman, She Is (2022)

[kachnajs]

OMG, is that her?

Who?

Mrs. Elton in her BAROUCHE-LANDAU!

I heard it has FOUR seats!

No way.

She's amazing, hope she never gives up music...

[russellius]

George and the country

Gentleman's Journal: George Russell is a glass-half-full kind of guy // Wikipedia // Farmer with a Pincher by Winslow Homer + George on the mini-mic in Spa // Szentgyörgyi Albert // George in his 2024 season review with Petronas // Twilight in the Wilderness – Frederic Edwin Church // Sportweek Magazine, issue nr 36 // George at the end of the 2022 season // Sportweek Magazine // George and his granddad (screenshots taken from the cribs video with SkySports) // Harvest by J.R. Eastwood // Green Wheat Field with Cypress – Vincent Van Gogh // Emma by Jane Austen // George is interviewed at Wimbledon // Farmhouse in Provence – Vincent van Gogh + Heart of the Country by Paul McCartney // When April Comes by Virna Sheard // Man Reclining beside a Stream – Eliphalet Fraser Andrews + Mother Nature's Son by The Beatles // Early Summer by Ellwood Roberts // Q&A with Tommy Hilfiger

[theunvanquishedzims]

Look at this fella and his little necklace

White-throated Magpie-Jay (Calocitta formosa)

© Dubi Shapiro

[fayes-fics]

Vibe & Vexation

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU w/ Regency roleplay

Summary: Watching Pride & Prejudice evokes playtime in Benedict.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, established couple, Regency era sexual roleplay, teasing, remote vibrator, dirty talk, female orgasm, brief vaginal sex. Also features lake!Darcy!Benedict, anachronistic costumes (just like the real show this season tbh) and absolutely unacceptable use of Jane Austen.

Word count: 2.4k

Authors Note: Yes, the title is a terrible play on Pride & Prejudice. Listen, I don't know what this is either, and I'm posting before I lose my nerve after 3 weeks of writer's block. This is dedicated to @godofstory whose casual comment on one of my fics finally dislodged my brain block. This is modern Benedict roleplaying Regency. Also thanks to @colettebronte for reading through, being kind and saying I haven’t lost my mind. Well, not completely. Err, enjoy? <3

“Ben, don't be silly…”

“Are you suggesting that I wouldn't look dashing in a frilly shirt and snug trousers?” he teases, raising his head from your belly and twisting to look at you, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint as the credits roll on the Austen film you've been idly watching on a rainy Sunday.

“No, I'm not saying that,” you chuckle, your fingers touselling his hair. “You look good in everything and nothing…” you tease, enjoying the prideful swell of his chest at your compliment. “But I'm not in the mood to track down Regency outfits for a little sexy role play.”

“Leave the details to me, my love.” He waves a dismissive hand as he flips over and begins to crawl over you. “I will be your Mr Darcy….” he attests, lowering his voice to that rumble which always makes your belly flutter.

“But I don't have a lake in this flat,” you deadpan, perhaps not helpfully referencing a different adaptation, but too distracted to care, his crooked smile hovering right above you now.

“‘Tis a pity,” he agrees, quirking his lips, “but I shall think of something….” he winks before capturing your lips with his. 

And, just like that, you forget all about the subject…

—

Two days later

“They didn't have any fusilli, so I got penne; I hope that's okay…” you call out as you enter your flat, dropping the heavy bag of shopping from your shoulder and flinging off your shoes, grateful to be out of them and home.

When there is no answer, you frown. When you texted on your way home, he sent back a list of supplies for dinner.

“Ben…?” you round the corner into the kitchen and realise it's empty, nothing cooking on the hob. “You're not even cooking….?” you raise your arms in a shrugging gesture, nonplussed, apparently talking to yourself in what appears to be an empty flat.

“Ms Bennet….”

His voice rings out resonant, a teasing lilt that has you spinning around. And almost toppling over.

There, in the doorway to your bathroom, is Benedict…. dressed up as a Regency gentleman. 

Well, partially dressed. And what he is dressed in is damp and clinging to his skin in a way that gives away absolutely everything about why you cannot resist him. Broad shoulders and a tapered torso, completely visible through the most transparent white frilled shirt you could ever imagine. Snug blue trousers that, again, give everything away. He must have hopped into the shower to achieve this effect, his clothing virtually painted upon his skin.

You literally bite the edge of your tongue.

“Mr Darcy….” you stumble, incapable of any other words, mouth falling open as he saunters towards you with a confident gait, his trousers straining over his thighs as he does so.

“My eyes are up here, Ms Bennet…” he teases as yours ping guiltily to his face, knowing you are being entirely called out for your ogling. 

“What if your eyes are the very last thing I am interested in, Mr Darcy?” you finally find your voice, stepping into the role of a feisty, historic heroine you enjoy so much.

“The eyes are the window to the soul…” he tilts his head challengingly, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s Shakespeare, not Austen,” you shoot back pointedly.

“All the world are good and agreeable in your eyes,” he corrects, indeed a quote from Pride and Prejudice. He has obviously been revising��something about that is as adorable as it is arousing.

“You don't fight fair…” you whisper as he closes in on you with a handsome smirk, but it hardly feels like defeat as his long fingers spider up your jacket buttons, the warm fug of his clothes amplifying the mouthwatering scent he wears under them.

“All is fair in love and war,” he counters, sliding nearer, his lips warm on your temple now as he flicks open your topmost button.

“Are you going to talk in literary quotes all night?” 

Your ask is much breathier than you intend, very much not a protest about what is transpiring—a tingle down your sternum where his fingers trail over your skin down to the next button. You feel the curve of his cheek against your face from his responding smile. 

“I might stop,” he proposes airily. ”But perhaps only to tease you until you pass out…” 

“How?”

The question falls from you unbidden, curiosity seizing your lips.

“With the help of things poor Mr Darcy never had access to…” he offers enigmatically. “But for now, how about you go change into your outfit, Ms Bennet?”

“I have an outfit too?” your breath catching at the idea he has planned a whole scenario.

“Oh yes, ‘tis hanging in your room, fair lady,” he mutters, taking a half pace back. But before you go, he grabs your hand, raising it to his mouth and dropping a kiss that is anything but chaste—wet, plush lips with a slight edge of teeth dragging over your knuckles as his hot tongue lathes between your fingers lasciviously. 

—

“I'm not sure this is quite Regency accurate…” you assert as you swan back into the living room a few minutes later, even as there is a frisson over your skin at the very sexy outfit he has chosen.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, his eyes lingering on the pronounced swell of your breasts as you sashay closer. “But yet, I cannot fault my choice.”

“More Marquis de Sade than Jane Austen…” you opine, revelling in his stare, the time spent fastening each hook and eye down the front of the ivory corset worth it for that hungry look and the nascent swelling you see in his clinging trousers. The silk, frilled French knickers he picked out are new, which you are grateful for, but they match perfectly. There was an odd weight to them as you pulled them on, though, but you did not spend much time contemplating it, so keen to get back to the scene.

“Ms Bennet, how dare you turn up to my home so scandalously dressed when I am entertaining company?” he admonishes, his tone suddenly brusque, stepping fully into his roleplay, gesturing to the empty kitchen area as if it were filled with guests.

“Mr Darcy, I can only apologise. I thought you were away on business,” you improvise, clutching your hands over your body in a futile attempt to conceal your state of undress, acting horrified to be caught.

“Do you make a habit of trespassing in my home and flouncing around so slatternly?” he snaps tersely, his eyes flashing approvingly.

You know the question is rhetorical, so you just hang your head, biting your lip, playing at being ashamed and chastised for being so wanton in the home of the man you desire. This is nothing like anything in Pride and Prejudice, but you could not give less of a damn, a flutter low in your gut that this could go somewhere utterly delicious. 

“I must insist you desist,” he continues imperiously. “This must never happen again! Now go to my private quarters and think upon what you have done!” he concludes, pointing to the sofa. 

“Yes, Mr Darcy,” you nod and curtsy with faux demureness, which he seems to greatly enjoy based on the flash in his eyes, seemingly even more so when you break character and poke out your tongue insolently as you pass.

You take a seat on the sofa and watch, initially confused, as Benedict remains in the kitchen area, play-acting as if he is chatting to guests, supping from a wine glass and gesturing. Puzzled, you watch as he reaches for his phone casually and flicks something on the screen, his back still turned to you.

There is a sudden, sharp buzz in your underwear that steals your breath, your legs tensing, your feet kicking out reflexively, sliding your clit heavier against the vibration.

Oh fuck.

That’s why the underwear felt oddly weighted. He must have snuck a thin remote vibe pad into the lining.

He makes a half-turn and smirks over his shoulder as you pant and stare at the play of his back muscles under his translucent shirt, your fingers clawing into the sofa at the sudden not-at-all-gentle onslaught.

“Ms Bennet, are you quite well?” he calls out, a triumphant look claiming his face. “You appear somewhat flushed.”

“Mr Darcy, I find myself in a most perplexing dilemma,” you grit out between clenched teeth, impressed you can even form words. The vibe is a persistent thrum that you attempt to tilt yourself away from slightly but seem unable, always there, dragging against you in a way that makes you writhe, your back arching.

He spins around to face you entirely now, putting down his wine glass, phone casual in the other hand, thumb hovering portentously over the screen with a gleeful mien.

“What troubles you, Ms Bennet?”

His lilt is teasing and velvet, humming in your bones as much as the toy. The vibration suddenly ceases, and you collapse back into the sofa, panting mildly, the corset restricting your ability to take the gulps of air you need, your chest heaving, unable to do anything but stare slack-jawed at him.

“Have you quite forgotten your words, Ms Bennet? I thought you a creature of learning…” he needles, the painted-on regency garb he wears just more temptation, his cock straining against the wool now. He makes no move to draw closer, but he does flick open the buttons around his wrists and roll up his sleeves, his toned forearms flexing as he does so.

“I am a woman of learning,” you defend after a pause, “but I find myself rather disadvantaged tonight. I suspect deception…” You narrow your eyes at him.

He throws his head back and laughs, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently as he does so. It makes you want to pitch forward and bite it.

“Whoever would deceive such a fine woman as you?” he fires back as he tilts back down. You cry out as his thumb yet again swipes over his screen, and your underwear roars back to life—this time a softer pulsing wave, but no less titillating, an inflaming tease that staccatos against your engorged flesh.

“You might, Mr Darcy…” you accuse, but it's lighthearted at best, a toothless threat as all of your efforts are focussed on the fizzing pleasure radiating out into your pelvis.

“On the contrary, Ms Bennet. In vain have I struggled…” he begins. 

That speech.

“It will not do….” he adds, shaking his head for good measure as he flicks open the buttons upon his soaked shirt, your eyes tracking the movement as each new slice of damp, heated skin is revealed in the soft, low lamplight.

“My feelings will not be repressed…” 

He peels the sodden shirt from his form, and you moan as that honed body is revealed to you, glistening slightly. The vibe is a roiling wave against your clit that makes your pussy clench around nothing, wishing to be filled.

“You must allow me….” he pauses and lopsidedly grins as he roughly tugs upon the buttons of his trousers, a teasing striptease that has you spiralling fast, leaking copiously into your knickers now.

“Allow you what…?” you throw in, huffing against the restriction of the corset, something about its tight hold escalating your addled state, moaning as he drops the last vestige of his clothing, his cock springing free. His whole being glowing with pride in how much he can affect you.

“To tell you how ardently I admire and love you….” he concludes, his voice dark and smooth, settling over your skin like warm molasses as he finally prowls towards you.

You want to pitch forward and nuzzle your face into his cock. But he dips down as he approaches, pushing your legs far apart with his hands and falling to his knees, burying his face into your cleavage. He suckles vehemently on the swell of your chest, lathing his tongue over your flushed skin as you fight to gasp in enough air, the vibe and his lush mouth hurtling you fast towards oblivion, his hands a firm grip on your hips.

“I love you too, Mr Darcy,” you gulp in delayed response. “But, please release me from this torture…” you append weakly, needing reprieve from the prolonged hold.

“Is it not the sweetest torture, though?” he argues back as his nose trails up your clavicle to your neck, his mouth earnest upon a spot that always makes you pliant. “I want to see you struggle, my love, bound in my corset, sat upon my vibe, teased and vexed until you can take no more….” his words are a sinful soliloquy gusting almost wistfully into your ear, your lobe snagged under his teeth.

“Take pity upon me, please; I am distressed,” you appeal, feeling a slight wooziness as you circle a chasm of pleasure that licks teasingly at your edges.

“You are beautiful,” he counters, a firm hand cupping the back of your head and puppets you to stare into his blown pupils, his rigid cock trailing a sticky line over your thigh as he rumbles more debauched. “Now come for me, Ms Bennet, and then I shall have you…”

You screw your eyes shut just as he flicks to a higher setting on the vibe and can no longer fight or struggle, letting your body break, febrile, a dew on your back as it arches, you screaming to the ceiling as you are thrown into the stars and the earth at the same time, torn in a hundred directions by the intense pulse radiating out from your core and fanning across your whole body, every muscle tensing and releasing in a sudden wave.

Hazily, you hear his jubilant praises ringing in your ears, but it feels far away even as his hands and mouth are hot and heavy on your skin, ripping the corset and knickers from your body with a vehemence that would shock you were you in less of a euphoric, altered state. He pulled you bodily to the edge of the sofa, teasing his cock against your throbbing clit, making you groan and paw at him, the need rising again as you return to your surroundings.

“You have bewitched me body and soul,” he pants as he slides into your body, a surging insistence that has your fingernail curling into the sinew on his forearms, your toes curling around the fuzzy meat of his thighs. “I never wish to be parted from you for a second. I love you..,” his tone rough, broken, stuttering as he bottoms out inside you, quoting the film you watched together the other night before taking you urgently towards another blissful peak.

Benedict taglist pt1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies