Russian Male Names Novels & Stories

I arched an eyebrow, giving him a serious look. "What the hell is wrong with you, Smirnoff?" He quickly changed his expression to one of "Are you kidding me with that again?" And yes, because he's Russian, his last name really is Smirnov, but when you pronounce it, it sounds like Smirnoff, so... "Don't start with that, I went through enough to get them to stop calling me that in college," he said, adopting a more relaxed pose as he sat on the counter with a cup of coffee.

Stop making connections where there aren’t any. But the itch in his brain didn’t stop. So he kept pushing. “What’s your full name?” Ethan blinked at him. “Ethan.” “Yeah, but… Ethan what? Ethan what-surname?” “S-sirname?” Ethan repeated, stumbling over the word. “Your mom’s last name,” Reid clarified. “What do you use after your name?” The boy thought hard, little brows scrunched. “Russo,” he finally said, as if it was a prize he had discovered under the bed. “Ethan Russo.”

His words were no longer making sense, and if she was going to freeze to death here, she’d at least carry his name with her to hell. The man looked to his side and gave a brief nod. Soon there were footsteps again, and one of his lackeys appeared to hand him a thick blanket. “Ah, forgive me for my lack of manners.” He stood unmoving, taunting her with the fabric in his hand. “My name is Alexei Nikolin. You’ll be under my custody until your father manages to pay every last cent.” The slightest accent showed when he pronounced his name. Her eyebrows met. “You’re Russian.”

it would have been him. I watched him, saying nothing, letting that thought settle into my eyes until he saw it. He got his silent answer and his eyes slid closed, like he was trying to keep me away from his emotions, “What are their names?” “Ruslan and Ivanov.” His eyes slowly peeled open in surprise, “You gave them Russian names?” I said nothing.

I asked. "One." He replied. "I suppose the Masters gave all of you numbers instead of names?" "Yes, Master." "Everyone will choose a name for themselves right this second." I announced before I turned to the General of the Neos Army. "From today, your name is Ratmir. It means defender of peace in Russian." I saw the gratefulness in his eyes along with devotion. He bowed his head and agreement. "As you command, Master." He bowed again. I placed my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Call me Nikolai."

I open my mouth, about to reply when Dad speaks up. "Who is this man and how soon can this wedding take place?" My eyes widen but Yulia's just narrow at me, clearly not impressed with my snooping antics. "His name is Ramsey Mikhailov." I can feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. Whoever this Ramsey guy is, Dad apparently dosen't like him very much. Even Yulia's breathing come out in short gasps when Smollett mentions his name. "Did you just say Ramsey Mikhailov? The Ramsey? Son of the Russian..."

asked Vesa impatiently. "It stands for your names, Sir and Madame," replied Ruslan. "Huh?" Vesa was shocked. "Valentino, Ferisha, Vesa. Gosh, what named your own father's hotel?" asked Vesa couldn't help but smile. "Yes, Young Master." "I didn't think my father turned out to be hm... How to say it. Mellow. Oh, no. He's good at fighting so it's impossible to be mellow," said Vesa excitedly.

“Why are you here, and why am I tied up?” Ivan leans forward, his eyes glinting with malice. “How do I explain this to you, krasivy? I think I’ll start with my name. It’s not Ivan. Let me reintroduce myself - I’m Vladimir Aleksander.” The name hits me like a physical blow, my blood turning to ice in my veins. “That’s impossible,” I whisper. “Stefano killed you years ago.” Vladimir Alesksander is the name of the former Kazan gang leader.

Alexei’s croissant fell to the floor. He stood paralyzed for a full second. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and whispered as if he had heard a prophecy: “Demyan… Demyan Rurik…” Sasha let out a low whistle, his smile opening slowly. “Now that has weight. It’s not just any name. It’s… dense. It sounds like an heir who will look the elders in the eye and they will lower their heads.” Alexei blinked, visibly moved. And clearly wanting to say something more.

I spit out fiery. Arlette gulped, shifting on each leg. “Who were the guys?” I asked, staring at her naked body, her small curvy frame designed against the wall. Arlette shrugged, then answered my question. “Some Russians. I don’t know their names, but one guy, the main guy, his name was Dimitri Volkov,” she said. As if the guys being Russians didn’t give them off already, but fucking, Dimitri Volkov? That was the Bratva’s Pakhan and he was ruthless and as sneaky as a snake.