NFL star-turned-killer Aaron Hernandez relished his time behind bars, boasting to loved ones about the bountiful grub and his “cozy,” well-organized cell — which he confessed he liked “too much.”

The New England Patriots tight end appeared to make the most of his time at Suffolk County Jail in downtown Boston while awaiting trial on murder charges in the summer of 2014.

Tidbits about Hernandez’s prison life were divulged in nearly 300 jail phone calls he made during his six months at Suffolk and obtained by the Boston Globe as part of its investigative series into the gridder’s troubled life.

“My room is very organized,” Hernandez told Shayanna Jenkins, his fiancée and mother of his daughter, Avielle. “I have everything lined up perfect, have my little trash in there. Everything all folded, I always make a nice perfect pillow.”

He added: “It’s actually cozy. I think I enjoy it too much.”

Jenkins seemed floored by Hernandez’s new life.

“Oh my gosh. I can’t even fathom what you’re saying to me right now,” she replied.

To pass the time, Hernandez played poker, cribbage and whist — which he called “wiss” — and read Harry Potter books, the Globe reported in its latest installment Wednesday.

Most of all, the wayward athlete seemed to enjoy the prison fare.

“So you get two honey buns, right? And you put a layer of peanut butter in between the two honey buns with the icing facing each other,” he told Jenkins in one phone call.

In a low voice, he described his meals to his lifelong friend, Ryan McDonnell.

“For breakfast, I got three pancakes, with two sausages — not bad,” Hernandez whispered.

For lunch, he wolfed down chicken Parmesan “with pasta, a little salad container, three oatmeal cookies, a milk, with some butter.”

He spoke of taking “bird baths” at his sink in his 7-by-10-foot cell at Suffolk and wrapping the cell light with a shirt to give it a warm glow.

Hernandez made friends with the pests, too.

“There’s rodents here, so like mice,’’ he told one pal. “They may come out here and there, but they just, like, peek their head out and go right back in.

“It’s better than mosquitoes, roaches, frogs, um crickets, spiders, ants, you know what I mean, that was at the other place,” he added, referring to his previous stint at Bristol County Jail.

While locked up, Hernandez made amends with his mother after being estranged from her for years.

“Jail doesn’t bother me,” he told her in one phone call. “I’ve been the most relaxed and less stressed in jail than I have out of jail.”

He told her of the “beautiful” view of the Charles River while playing basketball on the roof of the jail.

There were tall fences around the roof, “but you look out the fence and you’re looking at the whole city, all the bright lights, and it looks beautiful at nighttime,” he explained.

The volatile pro footballer, who played three seasons with the Pats before being dropped from the team following his arrest on murder charges, told McDonnell that he didn’t pine for his old life, just his daughter.

“I don’t miss football. I miss one thing,” Hernandez said.

“Being free,” McDonnell replied.

“Freedom — that’s not what I miss. It was the same thing I missed when I was on the streets,” Hernandez said, without elaborating.

Despite his zen time in the slammer, Hernandez, who was described in prison records as a member of the Bloods, couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble.

He began racking up disciplinary marks after being transferred to Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center, including for serving as a lookout for a fight, which landed him in segregation, and using another inmate’s passcode so his phone calls wouldn’t be tracked.

He was also nabbed at the maximum-security lockup sporting fresh ink on his neck that said “Lifetime Loyalty” above a star that’s associated with the Bloods.

Hernandez — whose sexuality became a public spectacle during his double-murder trial in March 2017 — also couldn’t tamp down his hatred for a gay inmate. He wanted to punch him.

“There’s this [expletive] f—-t that walks around too, puts butter on his lips for lipstick. It’s ridiculous,’’ he told a friend in a phone call. “Walks around so flamboyant, like ‘Oh my God,’ crazy …”

Hernandez hanged himself with a bedsheet inside his cell in April 2017 — a few days after he was acquitted of the double-murder charges. He had been serving a life sentence, however, in the 2013 slaying of another man, Odin Lloyd.