#Instructor Pilot

[nocternalrandomness]

F-35 Instructor Pilot Maj. Valerie "Twitch" Wetzbarger, 62nd FS, Luke AFB Arizona

[doctrined]

FIGHTER PILOT

synopsis; you had dreamed of this moment for years—joining the fleet force, flying among the best, and proving yourself in a world where only the strongest survived. being stationed under caleb, the renowned ace pilot, was an honor. he was sharp, disciplined, and impossibly skilled, a legend in his own right. everything about him demanded respect. but the moment lessons began, reality shifted. the excruciating world of fleet training was nothing compared to what lurked beneath the surface. caleb wasn’t just a pilot. he was something else entirely—something darker, something that watched you too closely, spoke too softly, and tested your limits in ways you never expected. you knew caleb as the perfect soldier, the controlled instructor. but perfection is a mask, and you were about to see what lay beneath.

in the cockpit, there’s no escape. and in his hands, neither is there mercy.

cw: this fic contains power imbalance (superior officer/instructor dynamic) and suspenseful psychological tension. expect aviation smut (cockpit intimacy, in-flight tension) with elements of authority kink, restraint/control themes, and explicit smut with detailed sensory descriptions. mind games and manipulation/gaslighting may be present as caleb pushes yn’s limits, blurring the line between training and something far more dangerous. additional warnings include breathplay/choking, danger kink (intimacy while flying), and obsession/possession themes as caleb’s control begins to take a darker turn. this is a corruption arc, where yn soon realizes that the perfect soldier isn’t just a legend—he’s something else entirely.

wc: 1.6k

chapter two:

p.s a light read for everyone. enjoy!

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⠀⠀⠀ Chapter One

Clear skies don’t mean safe landings.

You had dreamed of this moment for as long as you could remember—since the first time you looked up at the sky and saw those sleek fighter jets carving through the clouds, leaving a trail of awe in their wake. Joining the Fleet Force, becoming one of them. But now, sitting in the cockpit of a real fighter, your dream felt strangely suffocating.

Beside you was him.

Caleb. The man you had admired from a distance for years, the one who could twist a jet through the sky like it was an extension of his own body. The prodigy of the Fleet, with stories about him circulating throughout the academy—stories about his unrivaled skill, his unwavering discipline, and his control over everything in his path. Everyone revered him. Everyone feared him.

And now, you were in his cockpit, placed directly under his command. This was supposed to be a dream come true. But nothing prepared you for this moment. Nothing prepared you for the way he made you feel in the enclosed space of the cockpit.

“Hands on the yoke,” he commanded, his voice low, but not unkind. His tone was smooth, like velvet, but underneath it lay a steely edge. The way he spoke was controlled, calculated. There was no room for error in his world, not with him.

You placed your hands on the yoke, your fingers trembling slightly. Was it the height? The speed? The reality of flying? No. It was him. His presence. His quiet confidence that seemed to fill the space between you, suffocating the air until it felt thick with something else—something dangerous.

His hand moved over yours, almost casually, but you felt the heat of it instantly. A brush of his fingers over your knuckles, like he was testing you. The touch was nothing like you’d imagined—a professional, light gesture that shouldn’t have meant anything, yet it sent a sharp thrill down your spine.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it rang in your ears like a command. “You’re flying like you’re afraid of it.”

He was right. You were afraid, but not of the plane. You were afraid of him.

His eyes stayed on you, unreadable but intense, watching every move you made as if he could read your thoughts, anticipate your next mistake before you even made it. The pressure was immense. His fingers remained where they were, brushing over yours, not guiding but testing, like you were just one more thing he could control.

“Good,” he said after a moment, his tone shifting just slightly—though still distant. “You’re improving.”

The praise should have made you feel better, but instead, it only tightened the coil in your stomach. You weren’t sure what he wanted from you, but the longer you spent in the cockpit beside him, the more you understood: this wasn’t just about flying.

He leaned back slightly, not taking his hand off yours, but letting the subtle pressure shift, just enough to remind you that he was still in control. You felt the weight of it—his presence pressing in on you, the intimate space between you both almost suffocating.

“You need to focus,” he said, and his voice was a little colder now. His hand moved from yours, but not without a lingering touch that left a phantom burn on your skin. You turned your attention back to the controls, trying to steady your breath, trying to focus.

It wasn’t enough.

The plane suddenly jerked.

Your heart leapt into your throat as the world around you shifted. Instinct kicked in, but your hands moved too late. The plane veered, and you could feel the vibrations of the metal, the rush of wind outside pressing against the hull.

“Don’t panic,” Caleb said, voice calm, as if this was a training exercise and not a potential crash. “You’re in control. Take a breath.”

You couldn’t breathe.

The plane dropped again, a sharp dive that made your stomach twist.

“Focus!” His voice cut through the tension, sharp as a knife. “You’re not a rookie anymore, you’re a Fleet pilot. You handle this or you don’t fly.”

His gaze bore into you, commanding, unyielding. You forced yourself to exhale, to concentrate. You gripped the yoke, fingers digging into the smooth, cold surface, and slowly, painfully, you steered the plane back on course.

When it leveled out, your heartbeat thundered in your chest.

“That’s better,” Caleb said, his voice smoother now, almost like a purr. “You didn’t think you’d be able to do it, but you did.”

He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. Like he had been watching you all along, reading you, seeing how far he could push you before you broke.

And you were starting to feel like you were breaking.

“Let’s see if you can handle some real turbulence.” Caleb’s words were quiet, but there was a hint of something darker behind them. Something that made you wary.

You opened your mouth to ask what he meant, but before you could speak, the plane dipped again, this time even more violently.

You instinctively gripped the yoke harder, your hands now slick with sweat. Caleb didn’t react, didn’t move a muscle. He simply watched, his cold eyes never leaving you.

“Don’t freeze,” he warned. “Fly like your life depends on it.”

It did.

Your knuckles went white as you gripped the yoke harder, trying to force the plane back into control. You fought against the pull of the turbulence, your heart racing in your chest, your breathing shallow and panicked. But through it all, you could feel his gaze, like a weight on your shoulders, pulling you deeper into the turbulence of your own emotions.

When the plane finally steadied, the relief you felt was short-lived. Caleb leaned closer to you, his breath warm against your ear.

“Well done,” he murmured, his voice as calm as if you were simply landing in a controlled environment. “But we both know you’re capable of more.”

His hand brushed over yours again, more deliberate this time, like a promise. But the promise wasn’t of safety. It was of something else. Something darker.

“Let’s take a break,” Caleb said, sitting back in his seat, his voice casual, almost too casual.

You turned to him, your chest still tight, still shaky. He didn’t seem affected by the ordeal at all. In fact, he looked almost pleased.

“You handled it well,” he said, but there was no praise in his voice—only a calm, assessing look that made your skin prickle.

You nodded, but inside, you weren’t sure if you could handle much more. You weren’t afraid of the sky, but of what Caleb was becoming to you.

The lesson was over, but the weight of it clung to you. Every breath felt heavier, as if the air was thicker now, charged with something you couldn’t name. You tried to shake off the tension that still coiled around you, but it wouldn’t release. Your hands were still trembling, your mind buzzing, unable to process the storm of emotions that Caleb had stirred up in such a short time. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, a reminder of just how close he was.

Your gaze flickered to him, but he wasn’t looking at you now. He was observing something outside the cockpit window, his posture relaxed as if he hadn’t just put you through hell. But you could see the faintest curve to his lips, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You had passed the test. But you knew—this was just the beginning.

The lesson had only just begun. And you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

[aesthetic--mood]

Pete Mitchell "Maverick" Aesthetic

[ellii0tt]

top gun mishanks au when

[001139]

home vs work

[becomingeidolons]

did you guys know about fedex flight 705 i just found out about fedex flight 705

[protoindoeuropean]

i once listened to this one-minute-long cut section of the song on repeat for a full 7 hours (as evidenced here) – and i can still easily listen to if for more than an hour, just whenever – and it must be that my head is somehow specially attuned to the frequency of the screaming here, because at times it feels a bit like if one of those head scratcher thingies was being used on the inside of my skull

[halforcdad]

saw both top gun movies this weekend and i have to say the kacy au writes itself

[nocternalrandomness]

Instructor Buzz Aldrin in the cockpit of a Lockheed T-33A at Bryan Air Force Base, Texas - 1954

[us-air-force-2]

[fieriframes]

[You were a flight instructor, commercial pilot, and then you decided to come and open R&R Taqueria next to a gas station in Elkridge? Anything but that. It's a story you hear every day, Joe.]

[thatsrightice]

F-14 FUN FACT OF THE DAY #1

When it came to tracking the flight hours of a given aircraft, the F-14 Tomcat had only one single megabyte of storage capacity.

[sheradskygaryeric]

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[boyapologist]

I love flying with bad instructors while someone's having instruction because I can hear their tips and as soon as they're gone I can look the poor guy in the eye and say "holy shit ignore everything they just said????"

[historyofguns]

The article "Dabbs: My Time in the U.S. Army Rotary-Wing Flight School" by Will Dabbs, MD, recounts the author's lifelong passion for aviation and his experiences in the U.S. Army's Rotary-Wing Flight School at Fort Rucker, Alabama. Dabbs reflects on his childhood fascination with World War II aircraft, leading him to pursue a career as a military helicopter pilot. He describes the competitive selection process, the various training phases, and the challenging yet rewarding journey through flight school. Dabbs particularly highlights his time training with the UH-1 Huey helicopters, his transition to flying CH-47 Chinooks, and the intense camaraderie and friendships formed with fellow soldiers. The article also touches on the inherent dangers of military aviation, including the loss of friends, and concludes with Dabbs expressing gratitude for his military experiences.