A good bedroom desk should feel sturdy enough that you can lean on it with both elbows while you're half awake and scrolling through emails, no wobble, no creak, nothing sliding around on top when you set a mug down a little too hard. If it shifts when you nudge it with your knee, that's not a desk, that's a shelf with ambitions.
Color matters more here than in most rooms, since this thing is going to sit a few feet from where you sleep. A pale oak or warm walnut finish is the easiest choice, it reads calm at ten at night and still looks sharp at nine in the morning with coffee next to the laptop. If your bedroom already leans toward white walls and soft linens, a black or deep green lacquered desk can be the one bold thing in the room, and it works better than people expect, as long as everything around it stays quiet. White desks look clean in a listing photo and show every scuff and coffee ring within about three weeks of real use, so go in with your eyes open on that one.
What separates a desk that lasts from one that ends up holding laundry within a year comes down to the joints and the legs. Real wood or a thick, properly sealed veneer feels different under your hand than a thin laminate, it has a bit of weight to it, a solid sound when you knock on it rather than a hollow one. Dovetail or mortise and tenon joints in any drawers are worth checking for, drawers held together with just glue and tiny nails tend to loosen within a season of actual use, sticking in summer and rattling in winter. Legs should bolt into a solid frame underneath, not just screw into thin particleboard, because that's exactly where a desk starts to lean after a year of laptop use and the occasional foot propped up on it.
When it arrives, or while you're still in the shop, open every drawer all the way and push down on one corner of the desktop to see if the whole thing racks or stays square. Run a hand along the underside of the top for rough or unfinished edges, since that's where cheap finishing gets skipped to save a step. Check that the cable hole, if there is one, actually lines up with where an outlet or power strip would realistically sit, not just centered for the photograph nobody will ever take in your actual bedroom.
The real pleasure, though, is a drawer that glides shut with one gentle push and lands with a soft, solid click, not a slam, not a rattle, just a quiet little sound that means someone built it properly and meant for you to keep using it.