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See also: glüg



Onomatopoeic, imitating the sound of of pouring or swallowing liquid.



glug (plural glugs)

  1. The sound made when a significant amount of liquid is poured out of something, such as a jug or bottle.
    • 2004, Tom Bissell, “Death Defier”, in God Lives in St. Petersburg: Short Stories, Knopf Doubleday, published 2007:
      The blood did not come out of him in a glug but in a steady silent gush.
  2. (informal) The amount of liquid issued when the "glug" sound is heard.
    Pour a glug of bleach into the toilet.
    • 1996, Bruce Sterling, “The Littlest Jackal”, in A Good Old-Fashioned Future, Bantam Spectra, published 1999, →ISBN:
      Slowly, Khoklov removed a silver flask from within his suit jacket. He had a long contemplative glug, then shuddered violently.
    • 2015, Cindy Myers, Above It All, Kensington, →ISBN:
      She turned the taps to start the water running, poured in a generous glug of vanilla bubble bath, then moved into the bedroom, to the desk in the corner where her laptop sat open.


glug (third-person singular simple present glugs, present participle glugging, simple past and past participle glugged)

  1. (intransitive) To flow in noisy bursts.
    The water glugged down the sink.
    • 1997, Charles Frazier, Cold Mountain, New York: Grove Press, page 200:
      We’d squat by the creek waiting for the bottle to glug full through its narrow neck and then together we would walk to the church and throw the water on the fire a quart at a time, not so much in hope of putting it out as to be able to say, if asked, that we tried.
    • 1998, Will Self, Tough, Tough Toys for Tough, Tough Boys, London: Bloomsbury, →ISBN, page 135:
      Spasmodically, Bill clutched the handle of the pump, until the attendant hit the flashing button on his console and the petrol began to glug.
  2. (informal, transitive) To quickly swallow liquid.
    He had glugged that glass of wine before she got a chance to introduce herself.
    • 1992 June 21, Barbara Holl; Cathy Hainer; Bill Heavey; Walter Nicholls; Christina del Sesto, “Summer Places”, in The Washington Post[1]:
      There is no sugary "welcome" drink to glug. Rather, Honey, an elderly, overweight Lab mix, waddles and wags my way.