#crazy cock single malt

[whiskylovers]

Crazy Cock Single Malt Whiskey: A True Connoisseur's Choice

Crazy Cock's single malt whiskey is a celebration of craftsmanship and quality, delivering a drink with deep, rich flavors that appeal to true whiskey connoisseurs. This single malt is made from the finest ingredients and aged meticulously to perfection, offering smoothness and complexity in every sip. With its distinct character and well-rounded flavor profile, Crazy Cock single malt whiskey is ideal for both casual enjoyment and special occasions, bringing the art of whiskey-making to life.  Visit Us- www.crazycocksinglemalt.com 

[iloveindia-club]

Mahua

Mahua is a spirit made from the dried flowers of the Mahua tree & is believed to be India’s oldest indigenous drink.Now, the drink that was an integral part of tribal heritage until the British banned it is going mainstream, and in fact going global!An Indo-French start up is popularising the drink in France, and the owners of Crazy Cock single malt are considering launching a luxury mahua…

[winchestershiresauce]

Be a Good Girl

Summary: After Dean finds out that you drank the last of his good whiskey, your boyfriend Sam decides he knows just how you can make it up to his brother.

Dean x Reader, slight/implied Sam x Reader (no wincest)

2215 words

Tags: NSFW, smut, kinda looks like dub-con, oral sex (male receiving), bondage, language, mild degradation, mild praise kink

A/N: I have so many more ideas for this, so please let me know if you’d like more/a sequel. <3

My Masterlist

--

You knew you shouldn't drink Dean's nice whiskey, even after the way it called to you. However, with the brutally long day you'd had and the boys asleep, it just looked so inviting. Admittedly, it probably had something to do with the way Dean had warned that anyone other than him who'd touched it would "seriously friggin' regret it." You knew being his brother's girlfriend allowed you some freedom from consequence but certainly not all, and part of you wondered if you could get away with it. Maybe you'd even wondered what would happen if you did get caught.

As Sam crawled under the table in the library to check the knots holding you in place, you thought to yourself that while you’d expected some sort of punishment or having to make it up to Dean, you were a bit surprised at the situation you’d found yourself in. This wasn’t the first time Sam had tied you up (and it definitely wouldn’t be the last), but the way his rope work had you spread eagle on the library table was very new. Sam emerged from under the table, satisfied that his knots would hold you in place, and stood to admire his work. Despite the chilly air, heat blossomed within you with the way he raked his eyes over your wholly exposed body. 

“You’ll be a good girl, won’t you?” Sam asked as he lightly ran his finger down the center of your chest and to your navel, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Yes, sir,” you answered. Before stripping you bare and positioning you as a work of art in the library, Sam had hinted at what would be happening. He’d mentioned that Dean was upset about the whiskey and that you’d be making it up to him somehow. You’d thought maybe you’d buy him a new bottle, or wash Baby, or something like that, but Sam had something much more exciting in mind. You felt yourself getting aroused at the thought, just anticipating what would happen when Dean got back.

To put the final touches on his masterpiece, Sam stuck a bow and a gift tag to your lower belly, just above your ever-so-inviting pussy. ‘Dean, take what you want. - Sam’ the tag read. Sam nudged your thighs further apart and placed the brand new bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label on the table between them. He smirked and pressed it firmly against you, rubbing it slowly between your lips and over your clit before he pulled it away and positioned it for display. You lifted your hips, seeking more pressure against your now-aching clit, and let out a small whine.

Sam tsked disapprovingly, reminding you that you were to be seen and not heard. “Be a good girl, Y/N,” Sam warned. “Remember that Dean’s in charge. He knows your safe words and that you’re just desperate to make it up to him for finishing his whiskey. Be good.” He placed a chaste kiss on your lips before slipping the black satin blindfold over your eyes. You groaned internally -- you wouldn’t dare do it out loud -- knowing that not being able to see would only increase your anticipation and drive you crazy.

--

You heard the large metal door of the bunker slam closed and your body tensed. While the likelihood that it was Dean was incredibly high, you hated not being able to see what was around you. Footsteps echoed through the library as they approached.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Dean’s voice asked directly behind you. Some of the nervous tension in your body relaxed, leaving only the tension of excitement and anticipation. You felt a tiny gust of air on your face and you guessed that Dean was waving his hand over you to test if you could see through the blindfold. When you didn’t react at all, there was a quiet chuckle just inches away from your right ear.

“Looks like Sammy left me quite the gift, didn’t he?” Dean continued. You knew you weren’t supposed to talk -- you were just a fuck toy today -- so you didn’t answer. You heard him approach the opposite end of the table, feeling his eyes on you as he moved. When he picked up the gift tag, you felt his warm and calloused, but somehow soft, fingertip ghost across the exposed flesh below your belly button.

“‘Take what you want’? Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” His laugh was a bit dark and, though you couldn’t see him, you could sense his arousal. Your own excitement began to really bloom and you felt yourself getting wetter by the moment. When he picked up the bottle of whiskey between your thighs, you wondered if he could see how soaked you were, just imagining what he might do to you. You heard him open the bottle and take a couple swigs. “That’s the good stuff,” he sighed. “I wonder how well it pairs with this sweet pussy of yours, princess.” He ran his finger along the inside of your thigh before gliding it through your slick folds. You writhed in your bonds, wishing desperately that you could get more, or even just touch him, but you knew it was no use. Sam knew how to tie a knot and you weren’t going anywhere until he or Dean decided to free you.

You heard the wet ‘pop’ as he pulled his finger out of his mouth and groaned. “Shit, Y/N, that’s divine. You’re sweeter than a 15-year single malt.” You could hear the smile in his voice and fuck, you wanted him. Talent for the art of teasing must run in the family. He moved to the head of the table and you couldn’t help the pleading look you gave him when he removed the blindfold. He slid his hand gently down the side of your face and pushed your hair away so he could get a better look at you. Though you bit your lip to keep yourself from making a sound, a small devious smile made its way across your face. Dean mirrored the expression before pressing his lips against yours. It started gentle, maybe a little tentative, but didn’t take even a moment for the kiss to escalate to rough and full of want. You kissed him back hard, lifting your head off the table as much as your position would allow, and Dean slid his hand under the back of your head. Using his grip, he pressed his mouth against yours like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted. He licked into your mouth and sucked and bit your lips with such fervor that you were sure you were dripping on the table.

He pulled away with that devilish grin back on his lips. For just a moment, he paused to drag his eyes over the sight before him. Your pleading eyes staring up at him, your ruddy kiss-swollen lips, your gorgeous hard nipples… He groaned, knowing that everything before him was his for the taking. You let your eyes wander from his face down his body where you could see his erection absolutely straining against the denim containing it. You thought it looked so desperate to be freed, to be touched, that maybe it was almost as desperate as you were. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath to try to calm the lustful need bubbling up through every fiber of your being, but it didn’t do much good. 

Dean dropped his red plaid flannel to the floor and tore his t-shirt over his head. When he pulled his belt through the belt loops of his jeans, you couldn’t stop the low, desperate groan from escaping your throat. 

“What? You want this cock, sweetheart?” Dean chuckled. He dropped the belt and undid the button on his jeans, and every move he made to lower the zipper and push his pants and boxer briefs over his hips was so slow and deliberate that you tried with everything in you to press your thighs together. 

“Yes, sir. Please,” you whined, knowing any punishment for talking would be worth it at this point. You needed him and you needed him to know that. Luckily, Dean seemed to enjoy when his fuck toy replied, because he bit his lip and smirked. He dropped his jeans and underwear to the floor and stepped out of them. He wrapped one large, perfect hand over the hard, thick object of your desire and took deliberate, purposeful steps to approach you again.

“Open up, princess.” You obeyed immediately, opening your mouth and letting your jaw muscles slacken. He grinned and teased the tip of his cock around your lips, and your tongue reached out to taste him. Your tongue caressed the needy red head of his cock and lapped up the bead of precum leaking from his slit. Dean let out a low groan that came more from his chest than his throat and reached up to stroke your cheek. “Be a good girl for me,” he whispered before he thrust his hips forward to shove all of himself between your lips. Once the briefest moment of surprise passed, you greedily took him in, engulfing his throbbing cock with your wet, hot mouth. 

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him down and running your tongue along the underside of him as he found a rhythm. It didn’t take long for him to begin truly fucking your face and you wished so much that your hands were free so you could touch yourself while he did so. With every thrust, you felt him hit the back of your throat and you couldn’t help but think how good it’d feel to have him pounding your pussy like that. Your clit throbbed and your pussy clenched around nothing, both so eager and needing to be touched. 

His grunts were sinful and you swore you could feel them in your core. He held the side of your face in place as he used you, used your mouth like he deserved to. Your mouth had been what disobeyed him, giving in to the temptation of taking something that didn’t belong to you. In return, he got to take something that didn’t belong to him. You were the prize that Sam Winchester had to offer, and you loved it. Tears escaped your eyes as Dean slammed into your throat, sliding hard and fast between your soft lips. You gagged a bit when he went deeper and you felt his rhythm falter. You hummed around him, and only you knew that it was a sound of disappointment, as you’d been wishing, despite how well he was fucking your face, that he’d slide his beautiful, throbbing, delicious cock into your pussy and thrust into you with every bit of force he could muster. 

“Just like that, baby,” Dean grunted when you hummed, “Such a good girl.” You hummed again, only this time the praise swept over you and you wanted to make him cum by any means necessary. You could be a good girl and you’d show him. You let your jaw hang slack as he slammed into your mouth, as the subtle vibrations of your humming threw him over the ledge into his climax. With one hard thrust sending him impossibly deeper into your throat, he came. His gentle hold on your face was no longer gentle as he pushed you toward him, keeping your head in place as thick ropes of his sweet release spurted down your eager throat. When he finished, he loosened his grip on you and pulled his softening cock out of your mouth slowly, like despite the post-orgasm sensitivity, he never wanted to leave the perfect warm cavern beyond your lips.

He sighed, taking a deep breath to bring himself back to Earth, and you licked your lips to get the stray cum that had smeared there when he pulled out of your mouth. He grinned and you grinned back at him. 

“Sam was right,” he started, “You really are an even better fuck toy than you are a hunter. I didn’t know that was possible.” You blushed, but couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He may have gotten his release but you were still aching and needy for yours. However, you knew that this was about making your transgressions up to Dean, so you wouldn’t say anything. This would make incredible fodder for the next time you played with yourself, or you’d think back to it when Sam took you to bed and reclaimed you later like he did after every time he’d shared you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “Glad I could be of service. Did it make up for stealing and finishing your good whiskey?” 

“Oh we’re nowhere near finished, princess. I haven’t even gotten to feel that tight, pretty pussy squeezing around me.” He smirked and your cunt clenched, pulsing with arousal, excitement, and anticipation. 

“Are you gonna fuck me good and hard, Dean?” you asked, your expression a combination of puppy dog eyes and a sly grin. Dean ran his fingers through his hair and groaned.

“You have no idea, sweetheart. I’m gonna fuck you til you’re not sure you can cum anymore and you can’t remember your name. We’re just getting started.”

--

tags: @hobby27 @akshi8278 (Wanna be tagged?)

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  explicit flut aka fluff and smut.    

tags / warnings.  it’s filthy.  like.  dummy filthy.  oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don’t be silly!), creampie, an inappropriate use of a mirror, idk.  a stupid amount of petnames.  there should be a warning for kook as a person, too.  

beta reader(s).  @jjiminah the lob of my life!!

wc.  2.6k

drabble:  mirrors. four years ago.

It’s taking you far too long to find your keys, far too long to unlock the door, far too long to return his kiss.  He’s greedy and demanding, bowed against your back with his lips attached to your neck.  He sucks bruises into the skin the longer you take, biting incrementally harder with each second that passes.  It doesn’t occur to him that he’s the reason you’re so slow. 

“Kook, stop.”  It’s hardly a word.  Hardly a name.  It skips off your tongue like rain and drips molasses behind his molars.  

Don’t you know he’s a sugar addict? 

He noses against the column of your throat, humming delightedly over the strawberries and cream that blend in pretty swirls, left there by his hand.  He inhales the overwhelmingly jammy sweetness of your perfume - practically tastes it on his tongue - and guides the flat of his palms over silk.  It bunches beneath his rings, around his knuckles.  Jungkook loves when you wear it - loves the way it wears you, like a second skin. 

“C’mon, Pumpkin.  We gotta celebrate.”

You don’t notice it then - how his words come too slow, too slurred - even for an evening at the Ritz.  Coherence has left him, lost to the bottom of an empty glass or furled edge of a hundred dollar bill.  It leaves a shadow in its wake - one that rants and raves and believes in Neverland or something like it.  

The key slots into place - finally! - and he moves as one with you, stepping when you step, laughing when you laugh.  It’s not enough that he’s there in every motion.  He wants more - wants to fill all the spaces between you and then some. 

“Can you get the lights?”  You’re extracting yourself from him as best as you can, not realising it’s futile.  Every minute adjustment has him pressing closer.  It doesn’t even matter that you’re trying to unlace your heels - towering things with intricate ropes across the top of your foot.  He holds you like you’re a puzzle piece that completes him, refusing to allow you even an inch.  The frustration barely brushes the edge of your adoration.  Sharp as the words are, they’re coloured pretty pink - steeped in love and affection.  “Can you please let me take off my shoes?”

An impish smile appears then, draws across his face in a cartoon grin with eyes too big and teeth too white.  

The hands previously on your waist descend, snake themselves down the length of your hips - and then he drops to the ground, knees knocking against slick hardwood.  You gasp - a quiet little thing, more in worry than surprise - and he places a chaste peck to the bare skin right above your knee.

Thank fucking god for wrap dresses being a thing.  He’d fill your closet with them, if you’d let him.  Any excuse to open you up like his favourite gift, bounce you on his lap like a good girl at Christmas. 

“Kook.”  It’s his name again.  Same, same, but different.  There’s a swirl of emotion in your eyes - a supermassive black hole that threatens to swallow him whole like the colour of your irises.  He stares for too long, lost to the twinkling stars and silence.

So pretty, he thinks, pressing another kiss to the soft skin beneath his hands.  

“Yeah, Pumpkin?”  It’s sinful, seductive, laced in cigarette smoke and Scotch.  He’s a sucker for a good single malt but he wants something else now - something to ease the burn.  

“Shoes,”  you repeat, so faint he has to strain to hear it.  

Five fingers that had busied themselves beneath your dress fall, dropping to the neatly knotted tie at your ankle.  One flick of his wrist and it’s undone.  You step out, teetering dangerously for a moment;  you catch yourself on the broad expanse of his back, digging fingers into leather and sinew. 

Jungkook buries a laugh against your thigh, open-mouthed and full of teeth.  “Hold on, angel.”

The other shoe unravels just as quickly and you’re back on solid ground, beaming down at him.  “Thank you.”  A gentle ruffle to his hair follows, the glide of your manicured nails across his scalp easing his cheek to rest upon your leg.  

“Any time.”  He should get up - his knees are beginning to ache - but he’s far too preoccupied with the lace beneath his still wandering hand, intricate patterns woven into a welcome sign.  They trace high across your hips, framing your ass in a way that makes his cock twitch in his suddenly too-tight jeans.  

“Baby?”  It’s indistinct, somewhere above the clouds his head is suddenly lost in.

You’re radiating heat through every limb.  He seeks it out, nosing against the material of your dress in search of more;  he wants to bury himself where you’re warmest, fall headlong into sunshine.  “Hm?”  It comes in an exhale, followed by teeth and tongue.

The clouds part, just a little.  His path is lit - a neon outline beneath your skin.  He follows it without thought, sweeping his hands higher and higher.  

You jolt when he licks a strip up your slit, lace disappearing between your folds.  The material sticks to your cunt, sodden and ruined and nearly transparent, both from your slick and his saliva.  He grins up at you as he repeats the motion over and over, dragging his tongue in measured trails.  

He hears more than sees the way your back hits the door - his grip on your leg tightening to keep you balanced - but he hears and then feels your hands in his hair, tugging gently at the roots.  “Kook.”  It’s frenzied and breathless and he’s hardly even touched you.  It drives him crazy, nails digging crescents into the meat of your ass.  

“Yeah, Pumpkin?”  Repeated verbatim with that same breakneck smile.    

“Need you.”

“Need me?”  He echoes, as if he hasn’t heard you, as if it isn’t glaringly obvious by the way you coat your own thighs, beading prettily over his fingers.  “What do you need me for, baby?”

A part of you hates when he does this.  He knows that.  You like when he’s gentle, full of love.  You like getting your way with him, knowing he needs you just as badly as you need him.  It makes you feel like a queen.  

The queen of his castle - the only woman Jungkook will ever love this way.  How could he deny you?

So he relents, just a little, sliding his thumb beneath the material of your thong.  It catches on your swollen clit and dips between your lips before he’s tugging terribly slowly, at a snail’s pace that has you tightening your grip.  He muffles a laugh when it’s halfway down your legs, caught between your knees.  You’re like Bambi on ice, impatient and shifting from foot to foot in your haste.

“Careful,”  he coos, slipping your underwear into his back pocket for safekeeping before he peers up at you, his face framed by hazy streetlights and his crown of dark hair.  

He feels the brush of your fingers against his temple, the subtle squeeze of your thighs beneath his touch.  “I love you.”

It isn’t reciprocal in words, answered instead with a kiss that leaves you panting above him.  His tongue works you open, dipping into your heat before rising to toy at your clit.  He repeats the motion until you’re shaking, tremors passing through your legs to the hands that hold you in place trapped between him and the door.  

There’s an angel’s chorus filtering into his ears - quiet little gasps that turn lewd, breathless recitals that leave him aching to bend you over and fuck you senseless. 

A single digit brushes your entrance, sliding home in a smooth press of his wrist.  You take him to the knuckle without an ounce of resistance and he grins, triumphant, against your core.  There’s nothing more intoxicating than how much you want him - need him - and he gives greedily, slotting another in alongside the first.  You mewl above him, the sound music to his ears, and he scissors them expertly, watching in rapt fascination as your pussy stretches to accommodate the width of two long fingers.  “Fuck - I love you,”  he hums, awestruck and adoring. 

Something like a laugh bounces off your tongue and descends into a wanton moan before it can right itself.  A tell-tale sign you’re almost there.  Perfect.

He zeroes in on your clit, tongue dancing over it with each drag of his fingers.  He’s curling them now, intimately familiar with the rough bundle of nerves that turns you stupid.  You’re practically dripping down his hand and he’s careful not to let a single drop go to waste, licking his way over his knuckles and back to the source in languid strokes before he returns to toying with the pearl between your legs.  “So sweet, baby.  Like pumpkin pie.”  

You’re trembling, hands like iron in his hair, pulling him closer closer closer.  

“Please,”  you beg.  You’re rutting against him, chest heaving - a world away from the mild-mannered girl-next-door.  It’s so hot he can’t help but take pause, wait just a moment so he can take in the sight.

Poor choice.  He really can’t wait any longer.

He rises in a single fluid motion - even intoxicated, he’s a work of art.  He laughs off the way you watch him, expression an intoxicating mixture of admiration and salaciousness.  “Come here, angel.”  Here, to his arms.  Here, where you belong, cradled against all five feet ten inches of him.  

You’re putty in Jungkook’s hands, far too close to the brink of release to even think of arguing when he rotates you, pressing the full, unyielding expanse of his chest to the small of your back.  

“Look how beautiful you are, baby.”  Debauched words that sound more like love, whispered adoringly into your ear.  Sweet nothings that incinerate every ounce of rationale, leaving nothing but yearning in its wake.  He presses a kiss to your cheek, broad palms heavy at your hips.  

He’s right - you are beautiful, framed within the mirror’s reflection and barely lit by the moon. 

“Pretty,”  you agree, right as one hand shifts, drops and finds a home against your core.  Two digits press, unrelenting, into your cunt and you keen, head dropping against his shoulder like he’s just cut your marionette strings with the scissor of his fingers.  The flat of his palm grinds against your clit and he snickers, the sound deposited into your hair like a gift. 

“That’s right, Pumpkin.  So pretty.”  The P’s pop off his tongue, enunciated with each curl of his knuckles, each blossom he blooms over your neck. 

He fucks you slowly, languidly, unhurriedly - even as you writhe against him, pouting and demanding.  He does it so you’re delirious with need but not so lucid he loses you;  every time you’re about to slip, he recentres your focus and drags you back from the edge - either with a gentle tweak to your clit or a particularly hard thrust of his fingers.  Anything to keep you there, eyes locked with his in the hallway mirror.

“Look at you.  You’re so perfect.”  Praise rains down and you’re smiling, a faraway, feral glint in your eye.  “So fucking sexy for me.  Do you want more?”  His fingers still within your fluttering walls, massaging tight against your g-spot as his thumb adjusts to impose the same pressure upon your throbbing clit.  “Want me to fill you up?  Fuck you silly?”  

You don’t have to speak for him to know your answer - he feels the way you clench around him, eager for something far better.  

“Relax, baby,”  he murmurs, that same messy hand making quick work of his leather belt and the button and zipper of his jeans.  It’s honestly a feat given how insistent you are, grinding your ass over his aching cock like you might die without it.  Your impatience is endearing and intoxicating;  he almost topples you both over in his haste to step out of his clothes, pile kicked aside as you begin to whine, nails digging into the arm that still rests heavy around your waist.  “Don’t worry, angel.  I’ve got you.”   

He does - and not a second too soon.

The head of his cock is glossy, leaking pre-cum over the purpled tip.  It makes it almost easy for him to slip inside you except for the fact that it’s never that easy and the stretch is undeniable, bordering on painful despite how needy you are for him and how well he’s prepared you.   

Every nerve ending is shot as he sinks into you.  He fills you entirely as a groan tumbles off his lips, your ass flush to his hips.  You’re so wet he can feel your slick over his own thighs, coating the base of his cock as you squeeze around him.  A whine of his own pitches, forms in a bite to your shoulder that has you crying out.  “Fuck.  Fuck.”

He’s mouthing over silk, over skin, fingers firm around the column of your neck;  tips press into softness, stealing your breath.  The other hand anchors you against him, slung low over your side with his palm splayed across your ribs.  It’s the only way he keeps you from jolting forward as he ruts against you, fucking into your heat at a relentless pace.  He can read the strain in your limbs, how it grows and grows and nearly snaps in two when he tightens his grip at your throat.  

“You wanna come, pretty?”  It’s heavy, hungry, hoarse - gravel beneath velvet.  You nod senselessly, swallowing thickly beneath the palm that sears heat and try to focus on the same feverish burn that claims your insides and melts your bones.  Jungkook knows exactly which buttons to push, how to light you up like a night sky.  

“Please.”  

It’s an explosion of light and colour behind your eyelids and under your skin.  You’re crying, sobbing, wailing - a wrecked mess caged against his chest as your orgasm crashes over you.  Pleasure washes over you in waves, dripping down your cheeks;  you’re spasming around his cock, gripping him so tightly he nearly chokes as he chases the same high. 

The sounds you make are so pretty, helpless and somehow still desperate for more.  They run on a loop inside his head, stuttering his rhythm as he fucks you through your sensitivity and into another high that has you clawing at his hands.  

You’re out of body, eyes rolled so far back into your head that he can see only the whites.  He squeezes harder at your neck - knuckles blown out, tense, a stark contrast to the mosaic of red that he’d painted earlier  - and you’re a rag doll doing your best, trying to meet his stare as he grins wolfishly at you.  “That’s right.  One more.  One more with me.”

It’s impossible to deny Jungkook or his near brutal pace.  Where skin meets skin, there’ll be bruises, imprints left by the hard ridges of his hips, the shape of his fingers - a reminder of tonight for days to come.  He’ll trace them with his tongue and never let you forget.

“Right there,”  he barks with a sloppy, stuttering roll of his hips.  

Your second orgasm is messy, wet, soaking the silk of your dress and his hand as he works your clit.  A million volts of electricity buzz through your body, from the tip of your ears to the balls of your feet;  he can feel it, passed between the two of you like a livewire.  It launches him over his own peak - a lit match to gasoline.

He fills you with a low groan and a last, purposeful thrust.  He holds you impossibly tight, dragging his hips in small circles as you milk him for all he’s worth, cum slipping past your swollen lips with each movement, despite how eager he is to keep it right where it is, staining your walls and reminding you you’re his.  

Always have been, always will be.

author note.  please note this is a flashback drabble (you might’ve caught the reference in chapter 3)!  this is not present day, sadly.  but did you catch any of the foreshadowing in this?  hopefully!  if not, i'm sorry.  thank you for reading anyway.  i appreciate you!

tag list.  @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain​

[greatdrams]

The GreatDrams Review of 2018

Welcome to The GreatDrams Review of 2018, a time for me to have a swift light hearted reflection of the year that was and my personal highlights of the year.

Well what a year it has been; Donald Trump is still president, Daniel Ricciardo sacked off Red Bull to move to Renault - massive error in judgement in my view, Brexit is still as screwed up as ever, Harry and Meghan were wed, my wife and I celebrated our fourth wedding anniversary at the Johnnie Walker Spa F1 Grand Prix, City won the Premiership in record-breaking style, my beloved LFC are finally looking like a ruthless challenger of honours, a load of school kids were trapped then rescued from a cave in Thailand, the World Cup in Russia was one of the best I have ever watched, all manner of politicians embarrassed themselves, their offices, our government and our country and of course, The Greatest Show managed to get me addicted to its soundtrack.

Crazy to even start reflecting on most of the above, but thankfully I only need to reflect on GreatDrams, and of course what's been going on in whisky.

This year has been amongst my busiest;

285,000 + GreatDrams readers this year

65k followers across social media and email

1,300 articles now on GreatDrams (including a load scheduled for future publishing)

256 hours airborne on planes to presentations and meetings

131 hours on trains to meetings

60 trains to meetings in London

37 flights to distilleries and meetings in seven countries (Japan, China, Germany, Spain, USA, Scotland and Ireland)

23 distilleries visited across Scotland, Japan, Kentucky

11 casks bought for our independent bottling programme

9 events attended (lower than usual due to hectic consulting schedule and family life)

8 publications written for including a year long ‘residency’ writing for Whisky Magazine

5 spirits judging panels sat on

4 whisky shows and festivals attended

3 awards shortlisted for

2 award wins - Silver Medal in the Independent Bottler’s Challenge and Best Online Spirits Resource

2 GreatDrams independently bottled whiskies, Invergorden 11 Year Old & Craigellachie 11 Year Old Single Casks, available here

1 award highly commended runner up

1 squash match against Fred Laing which raised over £4,500 for charity

Countless whiskies tried, enjoyed and commented on 

Some particular highlights for me personally have been;

Getting to visit Japan, China, Germany, NYC (x2), and Kentucky on business

Meeting so many GreatDrammers at different whisky festivals - you're all awesome

Visiting Whisky L in Shanghai

Spending time with so many icons of the whisky world including, but not limited to Dr. Bill Lumsden, Richard Patterson, John McCheyne, Georgie Bell, Fraser Campbell, Stephanie Macleod, Donald Coleville, Dr. Nick Morgan, Ewan Gunn, Billy Leighton and Brian Nation

Visiting Kentucky for the first time - wow… and managing to visit nine distilleries in three days, including a day where I just went to one!

In whisky I was fortunate to try some incredible whiskies (in the order in which I remembered them or tried them, not preference);

Johnnie Walker Ghost Reserve Port Ellen

Tullamore D.E.W. XO

Glenfiddich 40 Year Old

Fettercairn 40 Year Old

Hakushu 25 Year Old

Hibiki 35 Year Old Single Cask

Hibiki 17 Year Old

Hibiki 17 Year Old Grain Component

Hibiki 17 Year Old Mizunara Component

Hibiki 17 Year Old Sherry Component

Suntory Toki

Craigellachie Hotel 21 Year Old

Whyte & Mackay 13 Year Old

AnCnoc Peatheart

Jameson IPA

Redbreast 21 Year Old

Tullamore D. E. W. Distillery Exclusive Red Wine Finish

Roe & Co.

Teeling Brabazon 2

Bunnahabhain PX Finish

Bunnahabhain Moine Brandy Cask Finish

Dewar’s Scratched Cask 12 YO

Dewar’s White Label

Ballantine’s 21 Year Old

Ballantine’s 17 Year Old

Craigellachie 33 Year Old

Royal Brackla 21

G&M Clynelish 12 Year Old

Nikka Miyagikyo 12 Year Old Sherry & Sweet

Singleton of Dufftown Malt Masters Selection

Bushmill’s 16 Year Old

Bushmill’s 21 Year Old

The Glenlivet Captain’s Reserve

Aberlour Casg Annamh

Balcones Texas Rye

Starward 10th Anniversary

Rock Oyster 18 Year Old

Rock Oyster Cask Strength Batch 002

Yamazaki 12 Year Old

Suntory Kakubin

Asaka Six Month Mizunara Rested New Make

Chicken Cock Bourbon

Weller 12 Year Old

Wild Turkey Decades

Wilderness Trail Single Barrel

Wilderness Trail 4 Year Old Rye

Russell’s Reserve Bluegrass Tavern Barrel Select ‘Gobble Gobble Gulp’

Bluegrass Distillers Wheated Bourbon

Weller 1950’s Gold Vein

Method & Madness Hungarian Oak Finish

Glengoyne 21 Year Old 

Caperdonach 21 Year Old Peated

Along with all these stunning whiskies and a very busy year, we have seen Scotch exports up, volumes up and huge investment into new and expanding distillery operations throughout Scotland and Ireland in particular, with many new distilleries opening up in England too.

2019 looks to be another busy year with many new distilleries having spirit old enough to start releasing their first bottlings after three or more years of patience, and I'm sure a degree of nervous anticipation.

Thanks for reading, following, liking, Tweeting, Facebooking, Instagramming and tagging GreatDrams across the web this year, I've had a blast and it's been so lovely to help so many GreatDrammers with their whisky choices and to meet a fair few of you at events around the UK over the last twelve months.

As always, please do send me pics of your whisky exploration, or tag me in festivities so I can share with the wider GreatDrams Network and please also keep sending your feedback, questions and comments to me, I reply to every single email I get sent; Greg@greatdrams.com.

Here's to a prosperous 2019 for one and all, have a great Christmas, New Year and see you at the next show!

The post The GreatDrams Review of 2018 appeared first on GreatDrams.

from GreatDrams http://bit.ly/2Qh3OLs Greg

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