A/N: I own nothing, written for fun not profit. I'd love to hear your crack-y reviews though since when I imagined this story it was completely crack! Since het is all that really gets me going that's all you'll find here, give or take the odd M/F/M threesome I have planned. Throw all ideas of attention to canonical detail out the window cause canon and I have never mixed well, kinda like Cersei and Tyrion Lannister. Yeaaaah…If you could direct me to info about clothes or honorifics I would probably sound like less of an idiot in chapter two. Thanks in advance 

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Rangiku is a Genius

Matsumoto was incredibly smart.

Later on, other inhabitants of the Seireitei would dismiss her actions as pure dumb luck rather than exquisite foresight but the golden fukutaicho would always rationalize that her superior intellect was at work when she placed seven different blocking incantations around her quarters after returning home from a night of drunken ranting with her dear friend Shunsui-kun. It didn't matter that said incantations were a little off and turned her walls a sickly shade of brown, killing all her plants while she slept fully clothed ass up, feet on pillows; it didn't mater that the reason said incantations had been cast in the first place was due to decrying that Traitor-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and the fact that that stupidly handsome traitor could probably waltz back into her presence whenever he damned well liked and she'd be damned if she just let the bastard walk into her apartment uninvited; it didn't matter that Kyoraku had thoroughly agreed and then continued to wax poetically about his Nanao-chan with the same breath. What did matter was that while the rest of the Gotei 13 unknowingly stumbled (in varying degrees) into Aizen's latest attempt to muddle their senses, the busty blond beauty was locked behind some fairly passable kido spells and sleeping off her self-indulgence with a stomach full of sake…and not a single drop of water.

Of course, Rangiku wanted to cut her own head off once she woke up. But that didn't really matter either.

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Unohana Retsu awoke five minutes after dawn just as she had decided she would for the past three hundred years. What made this day so different from the two hundred and ninety-nine days that preceded it was that the gentle captain of the Fourth Division was actually able to sleep until five minutes after dawn. There were usually a dozen or so perceived and not-so-perceived emergencies that would somehow require the on duty shinigami to rouse their severely put upon taicho from her much desired slumber. Retsu was so surprised to open her soft grey eyes to daylight that she immediately slipped back to sleep for fifteen minutes before that inner voice of the Extreme Healer insisted that time was fleeting and there was a day to be faced. She could not remember a time where she had felt so refreshed.

Since there were no sounds of running footsteps or distraught screams of self-doubt running down her hallway, Unohana was able to quietly comb out the rivers of her ebony locks and then deftly arrange a thick plait down the center of her chest, dressing herself with dignity rather than with rapid precision and a small vein pounding invisible on her temple. A simple breakfast tray awaited her outside her door, three delicate blossoms laid around a plain cooling pot of chamomile and a pale green cup, proving that there was indeed life moving through her building, and that even though three centuries had passed since her last lie-in her subordinates still kept to her prescribed schedule. The thought made Unohana smile and she stepped out onto her patio to greet the sun, drinking her tea steadily.

Once the cup was empty though, tepid herbal water slinking down her insides, something churned and the Captain eyes snapped straight ahead, gaze staring blankly through the landscape and the many structures and those shinigami of the Eleventh and Eighth fucking vigorously by the fountain, her focus entirely centered on her own body and the almost imperceptible changes she suddenly felt overtake her.

"Oh…shit."

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Hinamori's heart was beating like thunder inside her small chest, her lungs expanding like balloons in and out, in and out. Unohana-taicho had cornered her earlier with an intense expression inside Fourth Division; Momo had come for a morning examination but after being questioned about breakfast and tea of all things the master healer sent Momo on a mission of utmost importance: all the water was poisoned.

Well not so much poisoned as unfit for consumption or…well Unohana-taicho had been very distracted while explaining the situation, her usually soft eyes dilated and unfocused, shoving a stack of hastily written notices claiming water contamination or simple orders to drink sake instead, the ink still wet on half of them. Momo was to tack them around the Seireitei as speedily as possible, find Ise-fukutaicho with orders to alert the other captains and vice-captains, then lock herself within her apartment for the remainder of the day. Under no circumstance was Hinamori to engage any officer of any rank outside the safety of her chamber beside Ise-fukutaicho. Unohana-taicho was headed to Twelfth Division herself to seek Kurotsuchi-taicho's help in a scientific antidote and Momo decided to show a mask of understanding in her mission lest her presence be suddenly required inside those torture chambers.

Sticking the flyers on division gates, on doors and frequented areas was not difficult, though it was hard to try and delicately ignore the shameless acts being performed all around those self same places. Several shinigami were pressed tight against the walls of many a building and there was even a couple fornicating near the fountain! Nervous, flushed, embarrassed, Momo had flash stepped through most of her duty before treading carefully into the Eighth. Disregarding the sounds coming from closed and not-so closed doors, Momo knocked as confidently as she could on Ise-fukutaicho's door—which of course was comparable to a mouse scratching in the crawlspace. There was no answer and the sounds around her were increasing and the vulnerable Momo just needed to finish this part of her order, just needed to get back to her own room and wash the sweat off the back of her neck. She opened the door and almost swallowed her tongue.

The image played in front of her mind now as she stared open mouthed at her ceiling, the coloured lanterns she'd arranged that hung down like stars: Nanao with slick tresses laid long over her white shoulders, breasts up thrust and skin shimmering with just-finished-washing shine, slim thighs, buttocks, fingers calloused by too much writing slipping lower and inside…

Hinamori hadn't meant to be untruthful to Unohana-taicho; she had thought the captain was inviting her to a late breakfast and it would have been rude to decline, to admit customarily drinking three cups of peppermint tea with her oatmeal. It had seemed like such a small lie at the time.

She thought she made some noise, gasped at the vision of the lieutenant on that big bed making certain sounds that dashed along her inner wrists and toes, leaving Momo no choice but drop her extra warnings without a word and race away before she decided to obey the voice that said reach out to help.

She couldn't, she wouldn't—Her heart beat so hard and heavy, only exacerbated by the wet muscle pumping between her slit. Unohana-taicho had ordered her to return home after finding Ise-fukutaicho and Momo had obeyed, not stopping for any shinigami who waved or moved or yelled out…But he had been waiting for her and it wasn't in Hinamori to refuse.

"I-I saw you running, putting up those papers, and I-I didn't want to see you get hurt…Everyone has been acting so strangely and you have been h-hurt too often Hinamori-kun. I-I only wish to give you p-pleasure."

Her hakama was gone, kosode and kimono pushed up and spread out just like her thin legs, arms weightless across her bed and skin flushed. Breathing didn't get any easier once Izuru lifted himself up between her knees, licking his lips coated with her cum, eyes perpetually sad and solemn but now layered with the look of a hungry man.

"Should we…should we go find Abarai?"