Yoga Pilates To Reduce Belly Fat#reducebellyfat #bellyfatloss #yogachall...
Yoga Pilates is a combination of yoga and Pilates exercises that can help men lose belly fat. Pilates focuses on core strength and flexibility, while yoga helps to improve balance and coordination. These exercises can help to burn calories and reduce body fat, including belly fat.
Here are some of the benefits of Yoga Pilates for men:
Improves core strength and flexibility
Helps to reduce body fat, including belly fat
Improves balance and coordination
Reduces stress and anxiety
Improves posture
Increases energy levels
Here are some of the exercises that are commonly included in Yoga Pilates workouts for men:
Crunches
Leg raises
Planks
Boat pose
Cat-cow pose
Downward-facing dog
Warrior pose
Bridge pose
If you are interested in trying Yoga Pilates to reduce belly fat, there are many online resources and videos that can help you get started. You can also find classes at many gyms and yoga studios.
It is important to note that targeted weight loss is not possible. In order to lose belly fat, you will need to aim for overall weight loss. This can be achieved through a combination of diet and exercise. Yoga Pilates can be a great way to help you lose weight and improve your overall health.
Here are some tips for getting the most out of your Yoga Pilates workouts:
Start slowly and gradually increase the intensity of your workouts as you get stronger.
Pay attention to your form and make sure that you are doing the exercises correctly.
Listen to your body and take breaks when you need them.
Stay hydrated by drinking plenty of water before, during, and after your workouts.
Eat a healthy diet that is low in calories and fat.
With regular practice, Yoga Pilates can help you lose belly fat and improve your overall health.
Read More : The Power of a 28-Day Workout Challenge
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part four to this series
cw: 18+ mdni, mentions of blood drinking, fantasizing about biting, miguel’s got a thing for “sir”, EXTREMELY suggestive, no explicit smut just miguel losing his mind. this is the horniest one yet.. sorry!
miguel cannot get the taste of you out of his mind. it hadn’t been the part of you he’d wanted, the part of you that overwhelmed him, but it had been close. throughout the day he’d catch himself licking behind his fangs even though he’d since flushed his mouth clean of you. sometimes, he’d nick his tongue on his canine and the taste of his own blood would remind him of you again.
jessica asked about the gauze on your arm while miguel was in the room and you’d had a quick response, though not one that would spare him the knowing look from his (other) right-hand woman, “oh, miguel and I were playing too hard.”
sure enough, jessica drew’s eyes narrow behind her glasses. she even pushes them up into the crown of curls and coils on her head so her disappointment really gets across, “aren’t you a little too old to be rough-housing, miguel?”
if it were just that, miguel could confidently say it was an accident. if this had been about the cut on your eye that had healed over weeks before, there’d be honest guilt on his face when he defended himself. but no, you had asked. you’d practically put your arm in his mouth. you’d asked for him to hurt you, and you’d liked it.
and he’d liked it too. he didn’t know if he could hide that part.
before he can think of what to say, you chime in, “he’s always careful. it was my fault this time.”
“I don’t get why you two have to fight all the time. can’t you try, I dunno, healing yoga?”
miguel tried to picture himself in a downward dog pose and almost started laughing. from the flicker of mirth across your features, you seemed to be picturing the same thing. then he accidentally pictured you in that pose, pictured himself standing behind you, pictured taking your waist in his claws and crouching over you to sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too.
he digs his heels into the floor to rid himself of the image. his voice is strained as he replies, “it was their idea. can’t help that it works.”
jessica is far too exhausted with life as a new mother to try to understand that. she waves a hand, her white flag for the conversation, “whatever. I just came to borrow your assistant for the day. is that alright with you?”
lyla materializes on miguel’s shoulder, one holographic leg crossed over the other, “who, moi?”
“no thanks, tinkerbell. I need a person. preferably with some muscle.”
miguel would find that funny but all he can think to ask is, “why?” but you’re already standing up and following jessica to the doors of his office. he feels a sudden queasiness at the thought of not seeing you for the rest of the day. the day itself had just started. his morning coffee hadn’t even gone cold.
he hadn’t been left alone without you since you’d started here. now, he’d spend the whole day alone?—lyla sings a goodbye next to his ear—with just lyla?
he stands, abruptly, making his desk shake and shift a few inches. the sound is enough to stop the two of you in your tracks. your eyes bore into his own, curious, and he feels silly like the first day you’d caught him mid-tantrum. he means to sound intimidating and authoritative, but his voice can’t help the weakness when he looks at you, “I didn’t say yes.”
jessica’s hard look is almost enough to make him sit back down.
but you smile, tilt your head to the side, turn fully to him, “sorry. can I go, mr. o’hara?”
in truth, you didn’t need to ask him. but he didn’t know what else he’d expected when he objected like that. he wanted to hear it. he’d wanted to hear you ask for permission, or better yet refuse jessica altogether. he wanted you to sit back down across the desk from him and crack jokes at his expense, tease him and cackle even though he was the butt of the joke every single time. he wanted you to offer up a mini spar session after he came back from hunting down anomalies again just to get the adrenaline out of his system. he wanted you to pin him down and win, again, so he could flip you on your back when you least expected it and he could sink his teeth into your shoulder so he could taste you there, too-
miguel clears his throat and sits back down, painfully aware of where his blood was flowing to now. he waved a hand, murmured something noncommittal, but you’d really put the nails in his coffin. you bowed at the waist, smug like you always were when he was watching, and said in none too innocent of a tone, “thank you, sir.” and left.
miguel watched the doors shut. his ears tuned into the sound of jessica’s voice and yours mingling down the hallway, further and further away. he waited until you two were so far out of earshot that he couldn’t tell your mumble apart from the next spider’s. and then, he croaked out lyla’s name.
“yes?” she dragged out her response, the knowing, teasing lilt to her voice was more grating on his wound nerves than usual.
“lock the doors to my office, please. and turn off the lights.” his voice was a hair above a whisper. lyla did as told and quietly. “send the… send the society a message that I won’t be in for the next two hours.”
“shall I copy miss drew, too?”
“yes.”
“and… anyone else?”
miguel rests his forehead against his fist, taking even breaths in and out. he could feel the talons beneath his skin beginning to extend. his breath shudders, “yes.”
lyla hums, “anything else, miguel?”
“take a break for the afternoon.”
he can’t see her and he doesn’t want to see her (not right now, anytime but now) but he knows her code inside out, knows she’s questioning him. “that’s a first. got some business to take care of?” his answer is but a low, embarrassed growl, and that’s enough to send her off laughing into cyberspace.
a beat passes, then two. it’s quiet all the way up here in his office without the sounds of the other spider-people or lyla or jessica or you.
thinking about you brings back those images from earlier and when he bites into his clenched fist, he feels the sharp pain of his fangs breaking skin. the pain distracts him for all of two seconds and then he’s thinking of you on top of him, holding your arm out for him to bite you, except it’s your throat this time. you’re hovering over him, the smell at your neck and the bob of your swallowing throat overwhelm him.
you’re sitting on his lap in this very chair, hands clasped at his shoulders or gripping the arm rests or tied together behind his head as you lean in, press yourself flush against him, and bare your throat to him. he’d never wanted to bite anyone that wasn’t a threat to him, never wanted to taste the warmth of their blood as it couldn’t help but trickle onto his tongue, never wanted to hear and feel the guttural moan from you as you sink down on him.
“sir”. you’d called him “sir”. mr. o’hara, you’d done that before, but never sir. a wet and wild whine leaves his throat when he remembers how your voice wrapped around it.
before he goes any further, he sucks in a breath and removes his fist from between his teeth, collecting himself enough to summon lyla once more. the AI didn’t even bother to look in his direction when she appeared on the surface of his desk, her fingers swiping at some book she’d pulled up in front of her. this next “yes?” was just as dragged out, just as knowing, just as teasing.
“three hours.” miguel’s voice cracks out. lyla fades into thin air with a single, three-fingered salute.
part five
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