Create the most disturbing villain you can think of right now

Dr. V. had just gotten his medical license, when the Organization approached him. They had looked at his psychological profile, and had been watching him for several years. They had a job for him, and they could pay well. Very well. Him, his young wife, and his infant daughter would never have to worry about money or their safety ever again. Dr. V. knew the Organization well; they ruled his country with an iron fist. But they'd never bothered him before. They'd never gotten in his way. He'd never particularly wanted to read what they censored. So he shrugged, and he agreed.

By day, he lived in a comfortable, suburban house just outside the Capital. He did some work as a general practitioner — just enough to provide a cover story. By night, he went to the Facility. At first, he was on the outside; patients would be brought in, beaten and bloody, and he would make sure they didn't die from their wounds. Then the Men in Black would take them back, and they'd return later, with new wounds and new bruises. Eventually, Dr. V. wouldn't be able to save them, but it didn't really bother him. He didn't know their names. Just their numbers. They never saw his face, and he only saw theirs if that was the part he needed to work on. He knew exactly what was going on, but didn't particularly care: the Organization made it worth his while not to care. They never had to threaten him; he was quiet, efficient, and professional.

When went home to his wife and children (they'd had several more, since they could afford to raise them all), he lived a perfectly normal life. He read his children bedtime stories when he was able, joined his school's PTA, even volunteered to help with the school carnival. He slept well and rarely dreamed of anything at all.

Soon, Dr. V. was promoted. The simplistic beatings weren't working. Too much effort. So the Organization asked Dr. V. his opinion. They wanted to know how to more efficiently extract information from their subjects. He provided answers — how to cause maximum pain with minimum injury and effort. He worked with some of his nation's brightest minds: psychologists, doctors, and chemists. The others started to get cold feet, and had to be "removed." But not Dr. V. Dr. V. didn't really care about what he was doing. He didn't hate the enemies of the state, he was no real patriot. But he was happy to have a steady job with good security, and had better things to do than worry about strangers. The Organization made sure he never came face to face with anyone he might care about.

Then the Revolution came. The Organization was overthrown. A new government was installed, and the old leaders dragged off to the Hague to stand trial for their crimes. But nobody remembered Dr. V.: the people who knew his real name had all been killed in the Revolution, or escaped when they saw the writing on the wall. They eventually found a man — an evil man, a wicked sadist, whose actual crimes were numerous beyond count. They assumed that Dr. V. was merely one of the many masks this monster had worn, and added it to the list.

And what of Dr. V? He took his practice, which had formerly been a cover, and expanded it. But he was nervous, and as soon as he was able, he moved to America. He bought a nice house in the suburbs, continued working as a doctor there, retired peacefully, and finally, died in his bed of old age. His obituary described him as a caring husband, a loving father, and a pillar of the community.

And remember, boys and girls. There are people like Dr. V. in real life.

three men, and a woman watching for her own personal amusement, capture young nubile women who are travelling in trade caravans and use them as sex slaves. They rape and torture them, usually simultaneously, and if they're feeling particularly sadistic, they'll beat and rape them, while holding their heads underwater.

When they get bored of a particular woman, they tie her up so she can't move at all, and brutally rape her, while slicing her flesh in such a way as to cause maximum pain, and keep her alive as long as possible, to prolong the suffering. The other sex slaves are forced to watch, and then next day they are fed her flesh.

A man who has such different priorities that, to him, murder is, "Meh; okay.", but stealing his candy bar is something that requires vengeance!

Eventually might get tired of not being a minority, and commit mass genocide against his own race except for a few just so that he can be one.

It seems like Narm, but in real life, it would be disturbing.

A teenage girl who wasn't very popular in high school that one day discovers that she has god-like powers. The first thing she does with her power is turn her ex-boyfriend into a cat so he could never leave her again. She then uses her power to kill off nearly all the adults in her hometown and force everyone else to worship her as a goddess or face a fate worse than death. (Like being completely paralyzed but still conscious, having hundreds of beetles spawn underneath your skin and other sorts of unpleasantness.)

An 8-year-old boy kills and rapes a 4-year-old boy. 10 years later, he is released...

I find that too over the top to be disturbing. Is that even physically possible? Besides, an 8 year old rapist and killer probably wouldn't continue being one after ten years of being in an asylum (or whatever) anyway.

I'm... pretty sure there is a case like that in real life.

Yeah, the youngest rapist ever story is one too disturbing to even begin to describe. So, I won't. Instead, here's my villain.

So you've got a beautiful, young woman. She's uncannily beautiful, her skin is flawless, her voice is like silk. Her touch is warm and delicate, but her face is in a continual pout, and you can tell that there is this aura of misery about her. So you end up falling for her charms, perhaps because she's that good looking, perhaps because she seems like she needs a hug, but regardless, you two are going out.

Everything is fine until one day, she takes you back to her home. Nothing unusual there except for the fact that she has a liking for some rather realistic wax models that are scattered around the house. She apparently has a hobby to make these wax models and asks that you don't touch as to preserve the wax. She takes you back into the bedroom, where you wait as she gets ready. The night goes by like a warm whisper.

Except you don't wake up the next day. Your skin is now stuffed and your organs disposed of. And every night, you might just be lucky enough to be her partner in a dance, as she swings with you in a waltz to the slow melody as she speaks to you intimately, letting out of her deepest secrets, wondering why no one else than her friends could understand her loneliness. But she'll eventually get tired of you, you'll just collect dust and she finds another dance partner.