Russian Male Names Novels & Stories

I was bored with nothing to do, my legs were in the air, and I moved them up and down as I sang along to a song. "Natalya..." a warning and I stopped humming the song immediately. I pulled my legs down and sat on the couch like a normal person. "You know, I researched your name" I voiced. He didn't look at me, only nodded. "What about it?" "There was this big book in the library with names from all over the world. Your first name is Russian and your last name is Italian?" "Hmm..." again an uninterested hmm. "Why?" "My mother's a Russian and my father is an Italian" he answered smoothly.

he stated, a growl in his voice. I felt his English wasn't perfect, but it was better than most. I mean, he didn't make full sentences, but he made sense. “Of course you had people spy on me,” I scoffed. “What is your name? The least you can do is tell me who you are, since you know all about me.” “Vladimir,” he answered, but I didn't need his help to know that his last name was Volkov. My father and brothers had made me look at pictures and memorize the names of those I should never get near, and I could remember that he was one of them.

one of the girls in the middle of the class asked. “We have. My mother is Russian. She came here to be a dancer and then a dance teacher. So when my wife thought about it, she wanted to keep the tradition alive still. Though my brothers and sister have more American-sounding names, I was given a Russian one. Our boys are going to be named after two of the most famous czars. Nikolas and Alexander.” Greg said as he looked around. “Why?” someone asked to prolong the conversation. Greg laughed at the attempt.

Katerina smiled, nodding at her husband, loving the name they chose. “Elijah, or in other words, his Russian name Ilya” Alpha Nathan said “Ilya Dimitri Kozlov” Alpha Dimitri’s head shot up at his son, hearing his name as his grandson’s middle name. Alpha Nathan noticed his mother’s eyes drop to the ground, knowing well enough that her son was still upset with her; however, he was sure not to disrespect the woman in any way possible. “You’re being serious?” Alpha Dimitri asked and Alpha Nathan nodded, smiling at him.

Every thrust sent sparks through me. “Nikolai,” I gasped, forgetting to use his title. His grip on my hip tightened. “Say it again.” “Nikolai,” I moaned louder this time. The tension built higher and higher until I shattered completely, crying out as waves of pleasure crashed through me. He followed moments later with a deep groan, falling his forehead against my shoulder.

her father said in a deep Russian accent which was much thicker than Svet’s “I have heard much about you.” “You too, Mr. Ivanova,” he shook the beefy hand. The squeeze was a little hard and he felt a slight pain in his knuckles. “No,” Arkady shook his head and placed his ice-blue eyes steadi- ly on James’s eyes. “Svetlana speaks very highly of you, it would do me a great honor if you would abide by the customs of my country.” “Er… okay.” “My father’s name was I*or, so please address me by Arkady I*-

I copy the text and head to my translation app where I converted the words to English. My eyes quickly roam across the screen as I read. The reports from the website reads that Dima Kozlov is the top oligarch in Russia who owns a factory that produces weapons and some other shady things. He runs the street of Russia and is the main ruler of the underworld. Holy Moly. I’m all but a nervous wreck at the information I just read. That means…he's a mafia if I am to qualify it with an English word. From the books I’ve read, the Russian Mafioso are referred to as Bratva.

Sasha grinned, as he finished his mouthful of sandwich. ‘Pietrovich is a lot easier to say than Kuznetsov. I’m pretty sure he would have gone with Peters if his first name was more English. It’s our father’s name, we all have that name. Most people in Russia will call me Aleksander Pietrovich, it means Pyotr’s son’ he explained. I repeated the two last names over and over trying to figure out which I found harder to pronounce, but neither was easier or harder. ‘Man Russian is complicated’ I said softly, learning something new. ‘Would you rather go by Pietrovich?’ I asked. Sasha grabbed another large bite of his sandwich and shook his head.

"Not yet. They aren't grown up enough to answer their names, yet plus I'm yet to register the babies. It's because I'm yet to decide what surname to give them." "I'll give my kids names," Dmitry said. He looked at the cute eyes of his daughter and said, "You shall be called Rose. For you are like a beautiful fragrant flower. You will bloom anew every year, my delicate flower." He kissed her on the forehead gently and handed her over to Natasha. Natasha also liked that name, Rose, it fits her perfectly. Dmitry carried the boy child and said, "you, my son, my blood, my very first heir...you shall be called Marcus, for you shall be full of wisdom and grace." Then he placed her down gently.

In the shadows of Moscow's underworld, a name struck fear into the hearts of many: Daniil Morozov, the merciless leader of the Russian mafia's most notorious gang, the "Morozov Bratva." His reputation for ruthlessness and cunning had earned him the nickname "The Butcher." Daniil's empire was built on blood, sweat, and tears. His lucrative brothel, "The Red Diamond," was a hub for human trafficking, catering to the darkest desires of Moscow's elite.