#kitchen fridge
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This is going on the kitchen fridge as the funniest fucking bot comment I've ever gotten on a fic 😭😭💀💀

Also not blurring the username this time because this is by far the most ridiculous thing you could ever comment on a FANFIC with SMUT and UNPROTECTED SEX
Public shaming for you 🫵
#as a current agnostic who was raised irish catholic this is the funniest comment ever#believe who yall wanna believe in but once yall start with shoving it down throats and commenting weird things weird places#then it's just laughable#also youre a bot account or a minor and spam liking bucky fan art doesnt make you any better than me there champ#not gonna get into religious existentialism and morals tonight but thanks for the laugh!#kitchen fridge#hall of fucks#EDIT: thats what she said
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our kitchen decor
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"Okay," Eddie says, rolling up his sleeves as he approaches the kitchen counter. "You want these veggies rough chopped or are you being a freak about them today?"
"I'll show you freak," Steve says from the stove.
"Can't out freak the freak, baby." Eddie pulls out the vegetable knife from the chopping block—flush with new knowledge and still smarting from the way Steve had caught him cutting up an onion with a butter knife once. "So, what'll it be?"
There's a long silence. So long, in fact, Eddie turns around to find Steve eyeing the vegetables with a pained look in his eye.
"Sweetheart," Eddie tries. He's holding back giggles. "If you want these to be anything other than a million different sizes and shapes, you need to kick me out of the kitchen."
Steve sighs and turns back to his burners and pans, waving a wooden spoon at him. "You can stay, but do NOT cut yourself again. You're on thin ice, Munson."
"Oh, no! Chef please don't fire me!" Eddie wails dramatically, going to town on a carrot. He waggles his brows at Steve's back. "Maybe I can do some overtime? We can really get to know each other, if you know what I mean?"
"You can't sleep your way to head chef, butt face," Steve says, not even looking at him. "Be happy with assistant."
There's a loud clatter, and Eddie almost breaks his promise to Steve about the knife and his fingers when he whips around to find Robin standing in the doorway.
"I go to college!" she screeches. "I go to college for one measly month, and you already replaced me? With your boyfriend?"
"Not a replacement!" Steve hurries to say. He completely drops his spoon, darting across the kitchen to grab Robin in a hug. She dodges him. "He's just a new hire! To cover shifts! You're overworked and you deserve vacation, sick days, paid time off!"
He swipes for her again. "Fine, I want dental and a 401k included."
"We're a small business, I can't do dental insurance." Eddie quickly puts his knife down and turns the burners off since they've started chasing each other through the kitchen.
"I want my 401k to be paid out in pie then."
"Deal!"
"Do I get a 401k?" Eddie asks. Steve finally catches Robin, pulling her into a bear hug that lifts her off her feet. "I want mine in kisses."
"Shut it, newbie," Robin hisses at him from over Steve's shoulder. "You're on a 90-day probationary, and if I see you slacking, you're outta here."
#Dustin: Another nepotism hire? This is discrimination.#Steve remembering the time Dustin put his mold collection in his fridge: Stay the fuck out of my kitchen.#stranger things#steddie#stobin#my pot of ramen noodles boiled over while i wrote this 😔#my steddies
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New product drop 🎉 Fridge magnets are now up in my artist shop! I love them so much 💖
✨ Available here! ✨
#magnets#fridge magnets#cottagecore art#cottagecore decor#countrycore#kitchen decor#country kitchen#merch#shop
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added the entryway + a few more details to the living room 🙂↕️🙂↕️
#ts4#ts4 interior#wondering if anyone can recognize any of the items from andrew's room ^^#also he's living with a roommate!#i just have the bedrooms left. i did the hallway + 2 bathrooms + the apartment lobby#BRUH also ive play tested the kitchen and sims keep walking through the fridge to cook on a corner counter instead of a counter that's#completely free. like they're standing IN the fridge it's odd
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Team Al ghul 💪💚
Stupid stuff under the cut
You have one new message. Message one:
"Beloved. I'm calling on behalf of our son-"
Bruce: "What son??"
"You would have been so proud, he bested me in our yearly death match-'
Bruce: "WHAT DEATH MATCH?!??"
"He was magnificent, but then he does take after his father. You. Your son's father. Anyway, I've emailed you a picture for you refrigerator. Be seeing you soon! xoxo"
Bruce: *in the kitchen, experiencing a medical episode*
#talia al ghul#damain wayne#damian al ghul#dc comics#robin#dc fan art#batman#batfam#batfamily#an alternate universe Batman and Son lol#Ra's took the photo btw#he's giving a thumbs up behind the camera#poor Bruce is doing the family guy dead pose in his kitchen#none of the other batfamily dare ask why there's a new picture of a random black haired child on the fridge#Tim's sweating
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HAHAHAH EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS RESPONSE IS GOLDEN OH MYOGDDDDDDD
You just made my entire WEEK ro, like fr 😂😂
Hideout (4.2)
touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader
Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)
Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.
Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k
A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.

He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.
You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.
He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.
Translation: I’m excited to see you.
Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.
Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.
Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.
This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.
Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.
You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.
Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.
It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.
Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.
He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.
You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.
You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.
You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.
The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.
The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.
“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.
“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”
Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.
“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.
There’s a shuffling noise above you.
“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”
The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.
“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”
Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.
Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.
Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.
“Sorry,” Steve huffs.
“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.
The shuffling noise sounds different.
“No,” he says softly.
You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.
His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.
“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”
You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down.
Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.
Tap.
“Sorry.”
“Comfy though?”
His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”
The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.
Twitch.
“Sorry.”
You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.
“Comfy?”
He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.
You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.
Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.
It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it.
You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.
“May I?”
Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.
You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke.
With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.
“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”
The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.
“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”
“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”
You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”
You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.
The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.
A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.
He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.
Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.
He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.
You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.
His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.
Don’t scare him.
It can’t last; you’re only human.
Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.
The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.
In that low timber, he growls.
“You like that… Knew you would.”
Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.
That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.
Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.
What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?
Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.
Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.
Again and again.
Again and again.
A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.
Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.
He moves to grip your thighs hard.
Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.
“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.
No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—
He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.
Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.
“N-uhhh god—“
He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.
“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.
It makes things worse.
You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.
Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.
His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.
Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.
Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.
“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”
“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.
“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”
You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”
A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.
“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”
He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.
“Sounds so pretty when you do…”
Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.
Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”
Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.
“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.
“More.”
He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit.
Too delicate.
“More,” you gasp.
He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.
The fire takes over again.
“More, Stevie. Please.”
You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.
Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.
“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”
Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.
Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.
The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.
“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”
You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.
That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.
Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.
His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.
You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.
Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.
He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.
Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.
He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.
“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”
That fucking mouth…
There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.
It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.
You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.
Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.
Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him.
He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.
He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.
You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.
“Take the win, Cap.”
You freeze.
You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.
“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.
Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.
He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.
After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”
A/N: In case you were wondering...
[Next part: Desperate Man]
[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl
#rolling around on the floor clutching you to my chest#also if you need any reaction memes i have a dedicated folder they are the only things that let me depict my thoughts and feelings#kitchen fridge#ILLYYYYYYY#also i have SO much hope and faith in you this series is perfect to me no matter what#IF HIDEOUT DOESNT HAVE ANY FANS THEN IM DEAD#hideout series#ronearoundblindly
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She's just????? Baby??????
#sorry for the sound of my fridge#free roam is in the kitchen bc i can blockade the room and the floor is wipe clean#and i can't trust the little pissers on my sofa#Junie is just. she's so baby#pet rat#rat#cute rat#ratblr#fat rat#cute rats#juniper#babies
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"I ate you alive, and you have the temerity to tell me that you’re sorry?" is an underrated line from the pool scene IMO because it connects so tragically with the Great Griddlehark Mismatch, which is that all Gideon wants is to be eaten and all Harrow wants is to never eat Gideon again.
In her most pivotal moment, Harrow confesses her two greatest sins. The second, of course, was that she rolled the rock and walked onto that icy shore, but the first was how she used Gideon. How she isolated her, abused her, relagated her to a life of abject misery, made her both a whipping girl and a meat pumpkin. Harrow ate Gideon's childhood and she ate Gideon's future and she only truly came to regret this after it was too late.
"i gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it" like, yeah. Harrow didn't want it. Harrow wanted to give it back.
#griddlehark#harrowhark nonagesimus#gideon nav#gideon the ninth#the locked tomb#tlt meta#hi im. unwell about them#just oanic cleaned my kitchen bc the fridge ppl r coming tmrw :/#panic*#tlt thoughts#trb.txt
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Petit Chef Kitchen Toy, Sink and Fridge Functional for The Sims 2


These are 4to2 conversions from Syboulette, low poly.
The kitchen toy is functional and your children sims can prepare 3 different food with it: Cupcake, Cake and Donut (like the original toy, they need to have some cooking skills or the food will be burned).
I added a second version of the kitchen named "NO SINK". This version (that has the same guid, so choose only one) doesn't have the sink so you can put the functional sink on the slot I added for it. The sink has Rebecah animations (so children won't use the stool) and is just for children (found in the sink section of buy mode), all the actions except for the repair one are just for children.
The fridge is functional and just for children too and is based on THIS fridge by Rebecah. The inside was empty so I added some stuff from this Ravasheen Fridge.
I think that's all, let me know if there are problems ^^
DOWNLOAD HERE
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If you want to support my creations, you can send me a donation with Paypal or Ko-fi ☕ If you want to ask for a Paid Commission, HERE you can find more details. Thank you <3
#the sims 2#ts2#sims 2 cc#sims 2 download#the sims 2 cc#ts2 download#4to2#4to2 conversion#buy mode#functional#children#kitchen toy#mini fridge#kids#kids toys
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#appliances#homeappliances#kitchenappliances#kitchen#home#electronics#refrigerator#furniture#fridge#washingmachine#appliance#homeappliance#homedecor#sale#kitchendesign#stove#dryer#onlineshopping#dishwasher#technology#tech#cooking#refrigerators#oven#samsung#laundry#interiordesign#washer#LG#GE
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LG Family Fridge CC
NOW PUBLIC!!
Functional & Base Game
6 Swatches
Download: Patreon
#ts4cc#sims 4 custom content#ts4#sims 4 simblr#ts4 simblr#the sims 4#sims 4 cc#sims 4#simblr#the sims cc#functional cc#kitchen appliances#kitchen#lg electronics#refrigerator#fridge#kitchen cc#stainless steel appliances
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