Pics of the guy and two of the women I could find(the last one was a lesbian) : https://imgur.com/a/Z2riZzy

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In the early 1880s, members of Roman high society began to talk of a young journalist who had arrived on the scene, a certain Gabriele D'Annunzio. This was strange in itself, for Italian royalty had only the deepest contempt for anyone outside their circle, and a newspaper society reporter was almost as low as you could go. Indeed well-born men paid D'Annunzio little attention. He had no money and few connections, coming from a strictly middle-class background. Besides, to them he was downright ugly—short and stocky*, with a dark, splotchy complexion and bulging eyes.*

The men thought him so unappealing they gladly let him mingle with their wives and daughters, certain that their women would be safe with this gargoyle and happy to get this gossip hunter off their hands. No, it was not the men who talked of D'Annunzio; it was their wives.

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Introduced to D'Annunzio by their husbands, these duchesses and marchionesses would find themselves entertaining this strange-looking man,and when he was alone with them, his manner would suddenly change.Within minutes these ladies would be spellbound. First, he had the most magnificent voice they had ever heard—soft and low, each syllable articulated, with a flowing rhythm and inflection that was almost musical. One woman compared it to the ringing of church bells in the distance. Others said his voice had a "hypnotic" effect. The words that voice spoke were interesting as well alliterative phrases, charming locutions, poetic images,and a way of offering praise that could melt a woman's heart. D'Annunzio had mastered the art of flattery. He seemed to know each woman's weakness: one he would call a goddess of nature, another an incomparable artist in the making, another a romantic figure out of a novel. A woman's heart would flutter as he described the effect she had on him. Everything was suggestive, hinting at sex or romance.

His very successes in love,even more than the marvellous voice of this little, bald seducer with a

nose like Punch, swept along in his train a whole procession of enamoured women, both opulent and

tormented. D'Annunzio had successfully revived the Byronic legend: as he passed by full-breasted women, standing in his way as Boldoni would paint them, strings of pearls anchoring them to life—princesses and actresses, great Russian

ladies and even middleclass Bordeaux housewives—they would offer themselves up to him.

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This motherfucker cucked everyone , had over 100 lovers including women from ages 16-40. Even a lesbian that hated him fell in love with him.

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As was written by one of D'Annunzio's victims, the French actress Simone, "How can one explain his conquests except by his extraordinary verbal power, and the musical timbre of his voice, put to the service of exceptional eloquence? For my sex is susceptible to words, bewitched by them, longing to be dominated by them."

—PHILIPPE JULLIAN, PRINCE OF AESTHETES: COUNT ROBERT DE MONTESQUIEOU, TRANSLATED BY JOHN HAYLOCK AND FRANCIS KING