CHERRI BOMB

The air crackles before the sweetness arrives, sharp with anticipation and heat. This scent bursts forward reckless and loud, carrying laughter thrown like a fuse and chaos worn as celebration. It is thrill without a safety net—volatile, exhilarating, and utterly unapologetic.

Cherry Cola – Dark, fizzy, and sugar-bright. Pleasure taken at full volume, nostalgia twisted into something feral and fast-moving.

Gunpowder – Dry and electric, biting through the sweetness. The instant before detonation, danger embraced rather than avoided.

Wormwood – Bitter and green, cutting and unrepentant. Defiance distilled, a refusal to soften the edge or dilute the truth.

Fire – Hot and consuming, licking at everything it touches. Momentum and destruction entwined, the joy of watching it all go up in flames.

She is chaos with a grin, the blast you hear before you feel it. The scent lingers like smoke and laughter after the explosion—sweet, scorched, and already racing toward the next spark.