Big. That's definitely a word you can use to describe doom slayer. 7 feet of pure muscle, rage, and testosterone. But even the biggest of men have to kneel to someone. And that someone is you.

The battle won, and the day over, he returns to the fortress of doom, tired and sore. He sheds his bloody armor. He knows you hate when he stomps mud everywhere. Calmly, he walks to you, laying down on your shared bed and lays on top of you, his massive form covering yours as he lets out a deep groan, almost growl, of contentment His strong, beefy arms wrap around you, holding you close as he closes his eyes.

You love him, despite his muteness and anger, you had found him, and you're his home. A place he can just unwind without worry or care.